Orders had already been issued that the army should break up immediately after the funeral, and our calashes were ready. I was unwilling to depart sooner. Major Harnage, though hardly able to walk a step, left his bed, that he might not remain in the hospital, upon which a flag of truce had been erected. When he saw me thus in the midst of danger, he drove my children and female attendants into the vehicle, and told me that I had not a moment to lose. I begged to be permitted to remain a little longer. "Do what you please," replied he; "but your children I must at least save." This touched my most tender feelings; I sprang into the carriage, and at 8 o'clock we departed.
Profound silence had been recommended to us; large fires were lighted, and many tents were left untouched, to conceal our movement from the enemy. We proceeded on our way the whole night. Frederica was afraid, and began to cry; I was obliged to press a handkerchief to her mouth.
We were halted at six o'clock in the morning, to our general amazement. General Burgoyne ordered the artillery to be drawn up in a line; and to have it counted. This gave much dissatisfaction, as a few marches more would have ensured our safety. My husband was exhausted by fatigue, and took a seat in the calash, where my maids made room for him; and he slept for three hours upon my shoulder. In the mean time Captain Willoe brought me his pocket-book, containing bank notes, and Captain Geismar, a beautiful watch, a ring, and a well provided purse, requesting me to keep them, which I promised to do to the last. At length we recommenced our march; but scarcely an hour had elapsed before the army was again halted, because the enemy was in sight. They were but two hundred in number, who came to reconnoiter, and who might easily have been taken had not General Burgoyne lost all his presence of mind. The rain fell in torrents. Lady Ackland had caused her tent to be fixed up, I again suggested to her the propriety of rejoining her husband, to whom she might be of great service in his present situation. Yielding to my advice, she sent a message to General Burgoyne, through his aid-de-camp Lord Petersham, to beg his permission to leave the army. I told her that she need only insist upon it, and she would certainly succeed. The Rev. Mr. Brudenel accompanied her, and they went together in a boat, with a flag of truce, to the enemy. There is a well-known and fine engraving of that event. I afterward met with lady Ackland at Albany, when her husband was almost entirely recovered; and both thanked me for my advice. On the 9th, it rained terribly the whole day; nevertheless we kept ourselves ready to march. The savages had lost their courage, and they walked off in all directions. The least untoward event made them dispirited, especially when there was no opportunity for plunder.
We reached Saratoga about dark, which was but half an hour's march from the place where we had spent the day. I was quite wet, and was obliged to remain in that condition for want of a place to change my apparel. I seated myself near the fire, and undressed the children, and we then laid ourselves upon some straw. I asked General Phillips, who came to see how I was, why we did not continue our retreat, my husband having pledged himself to cover the movement, and to bring off the army In safety. "My poor lady," said he, "you astonish me. Though quite wet, you have so much courage as to wish to go farther in this weather. What a pity it is that you are not our commanding general! He complains of fatigue, and has determined upon spending the night here, and giving us a supper." It is very true that General Burgoyne liked to make himself easy, and that he spent half his nights in singing and drinking, and diverting himself with the wife of a commissary, who was his mistress, and who was as fond of Champaign as himself. I refreshed myself at 7 o'clock the next morning, (the 10th of October,) with a cup of tea, and we all expected that we should soon continue our march. General Burgoyne had given orders to set fire to General Schuyler's fine buildings and mills at Saratoga, for the purpose of securing our retreat. An English officer brought me some good soup, and insisted that I should partake of it. After this, we continued our march; but only for a short time. There was much misery and disorder in the army. The commissaries had forgotten to distribute provisions, though we had an abundance of cattle. I saw more than thirty officers, who complained bitterly of hunger. I gave them coffee and tea, and every thing eatable that I had in my calash.
Our calashes remained in readiness to depart. Every body advised a retreat, and my husband pledged himself to effect that movement, if no time was lost. But General Burgoyne, who had been promised an Order, if he should effect his junction with General Howe, could not be persuaded to it, and lost every thing by his dilatoriness. About 2 o'clock we heard again a report of muskets and cannon, and there was much alarm and bustle among our troops. My husband sent me word that I should immediately retire into a house which was not far off. I got into my calash with my children; and when we were near the house, I saw, on the opposite bank of the Hudson, five or six men, who aimed at us with their guns. Without knowing what I did, I threw my children into the back part of the vehicle, and laid myself upon them. At the same moment the fellows fired, and broke the arm of a poor English soldier, who stood behind us, and who, being already wounded, sought a shelter. Soon after our arrival a terrible cannonade began, and the fire was principally directed against the house, where we had hoped to find a refuge, probably because the enemy inferred, from the great number of people who went towards it, that this was the head-quarters of the Generals, while, in reality, none were there except women and crippled soldiers. We were at last obliged to descend into the cellar, where I laid myself in a corner near the door. My children put their heads upon my knees. An abominable smell, the cries of the children, and my own anguish of mind, did not permit me to close my eyes during the whole night. On the next morning the cannonade begun anew, but in a different direction. I advised my fellow-sufferers to withdraw, for a while, from the cellar, in order to give time to clean it, for we should otherwise injure our health. On an inspection of our retreat, I discovered that there were three cellars, spacious and well vaulted. I suggested that one of them should be appropriated to the use of the officers who were most severely wounded, the next to the females, and the third, which was nearest to the staircase, to all the rest of the company. We were just going down, when a new thunder of cannon threw us again into alarm. Many persons, who had no right to enter, threw themselves against the door. My children were already at the bottom of the staircase, and every one of us would probably have been crushed to death, had I not put myself before the entrance and resisted the intruders. Eleven cannon-balls passed through the house, and made a tremendous noise. A poor soldier, who was about to have a leg amputated, lost the other by one of these balls. All his comrades ran away at that moment, and when they returned, they found him in one corner of the room in the agonies of death. I was myself in the deepest distress, not so much on account of my own dangers, as of those to which my husband was exposed, who, however, frequently sent me messages, inquiring after my health. Major Harnage's wife, a Mrs. Reynell, the wife of the good lieutenant who had, on the preceding day, shared his soup with me, the wife of the commissary, and myself, were the only officers' wives at present with the army. We sat together, deploring our situation, when somebody having entered, all my companions exchanged looks of deep sorrow, whispering at the same time to one another. I immediately suspected that my husband had been killed. I shrieked aloud; but was immediately told that nothing had happened to my husband, and was given to understand, by a sidelong glance, that the Lieutenant had been killed. His wife was soon called out, and found that the Lieutenant was yet alive, though one of his arms had been shot off, near the shoulder, by a cannon-ball. We heard his groans and lamentations during the whole night, which were dreadfully re-echoed through the vaulted cellars; and in the morning he expired. My husband came to visit me during the night, which served to diminish my sadness and dejection in some degree. On the next morning we thought of making our cellar a more convenient residence. Major Harnage and his wife, and Mrs. Reynell, took possession of one corner, and transformed it into a kind of closet by means of a curtain. I was also to have a similar retreat; but I preferred to remain near the door, that I might escape more easily in case of fire. I had straw put under my mattresses, and on these I laid myself with my children; and my female servants slept near us. Opposite to us were three officers, who, though wounded, were determined not to remain behind if the army retreated. One of them was Captain Green, aid-de-camp to General Phillips, and a very amiable and worthy gentleman.. All three swore they would not depart without me in case of a sudden retreat, and that each of them would take one of my children on his horse. One of my husband's horses was constantly in readiness for myself. Mr. de Riedesel thought often of sending me to the American camp, to save me from danger; but I declared that nothing would be more painful to me than to live on good terms with those with whom he was fighting; upon which he consented that I should continue to follow the army. However, the apprehension that he might have marched away repeatedly intruded itself into my mind; and I crept up the staircase, more than once, to confirm or dispel my fears; and when I saw our soldiers near their watch-fires, I became more calm, and could even have slept.
The want of water continuing to distress us, we could not but be extremely glad to find a soldier's wife so spirited as to fetch some from the river, an occupation from which the boldest might have shrunk, as the Americans shot every one who approached it. They told us afterwards that they spared her on account of her sex.