Character of Joseph Bettys--His exploits--Capture and execution--Progress
of the war--Gradual cessation of hostilities--Dwindling down to mere
affairs of outposts and scouting parties--Commissioners appointed to
negotiate a treaty of peace--Indian battles on the Kentucky
frontier--Defeat of Colonel Boon--Destruction of the Shawanese
towns--The Moravians on the Muskingum--Their removal to Sandusky by the
Wyandots--Return to secure their crops--Invasion of their towns by
Colonel Williamson--Treachery of Williamson and his men to the
Indians--Horrible massacre--Invasion of the Sandusky country by
Crawford and Williamson--Defeat of their army--Colonel Crawford
captured--Sentenced to die by torture--His interview with the sachem
Wingemond--His execution--Close of the year--Doubts as to a treaty of
peace--Colonel Willett's attempt to surprise Oswego--The news of
peace--Sufferings of Tryon County--Return of its population--End of the
wars of the Mohawk.
Among the minor, but yet not unimportant events of the border war at the
north and west of Albany, was the capture, some time in the Winter of
1781--'82, of the celebrated loyalist marauder, Joseph Bettys, whose name
has occurred in connexion with that of John Waltermeyer in the preceding
chapter. Bettys, or "Joe Bettys" as he was commonly called, was a man of
uncommon shrewdness and intelligence. Bold, athletic, and of untiring
activity; revengeful and cruel in his disposition; inflexible in his
purposes; his bosom cold as the marble to the impulses of humanity; he
ranged the border settlements like a chafed tiger snuffing every tainted
breeze for blood, until his name had become as terrific to the borderers,
as were those of Kidd and Pierre le Grande upon the ocean in the
preceding century. At the commencement of the war, Bettys was an
inhabitant of Ballston. He early took the field in the cause of the
republic, and a sergeant's warrant was conferred upon him in Colonel
Wynkoop's regiment. But he had a proud, independent spirit, that could
ill brook the severity of military discipline; and for some act of
contumacy, he was reduced to the ranks. Still, knowing well his determined
character and unflinching courage, and unwilling that his country should
lose his services, the same gentleman [FN] who had obtained his first
warrant, procured him another, and a transfer to the fleet under the
command of General Arnold on Lake Champlain, in the Summer of 1776.
* * * * *
[FN] The late Colonel Ball, of Balston.
In the severe naval engagement fought on that lake between Arnold and
Sir Guy Carleton, on the 11th of October of that year, Bettys exhibited
great bravery, and was of signal service during the battle, which lasted
four hours. He fought until every commissioned officer on board his
vessel was either killed or wounded. Assuming the command then himself,
he continued the fight with such reckless and desperate intrepidity, that
General Waterbury, Arnold's second in command, perceiving that his vessel
was about to sink, was obliged to order Bettys and the survivors of his
crew on board his own vessel. Having thus observed his good conduct,
General Waterbury stationed him by his side on the quarter-deck, and gave
orders through him, until his own vessel in turn became entirely
crippled--the crew mostly killed--the General himself wounded--and only
two others, exclusive of Bettys, left in fighting condition--when his
colors were struck to the enemy. General Waterbury afterward spoke in the
most exalted terms of the high courage of Bettys, adding, that the
shrewdness of his management showed that his conduct was not inferior to
his courage.
While a prisoner in Canada, the arts of the enemy subverted his
principles. He was seduced from the service of his country, and entered
that of the enemy with the rank of ensign--proving himself an enemy
equally subtle and formidable. From his intimate knowledge of the country
and his artful address, he was frequently employed, sometimes as a
messenger, at others as a spy, and at others, again, in the double
capacity of both. During one of his missions of this nature, he was
captured, tried, and condemned to the gallows. But the entreaties of his
aged parents, and the solicitations of influential Whigs, induced General
Washington, on a promise of reformation, to grant him a pardon. Yet if
honor, generosity, and gratitude, had ever been qualities of his soul,
they had taken their departure.
Losing no time in rejoining the ranks of the enemy, he became alike
reckless of character and the dictates of humanity; and instead of
suitably requiting the kindness which had successfully interposed to save
him from an ignominious death, he became the greatest scourge of his
former friends and neighborhood. Ballston, in particular, had long reason
to deplore the ill-judged leniency. He returned, and recruited soldiers
for the King in the midst of the settlements; he captured and carried off
the most zealous and efficient Whigs, and subjected them to the severest
sufferings; and those against whom he bore the strongest hate, lost their
dwellings by fire or their lives by murder. No fatigue weakened his
resolution--no distance was an obstacle to his purpose--and no danger
appalled his courage. No one of the borderers felt secure. Sometimes in
the darkness of the night he fell upon them by stealth; and at others,
even at mid-day, he was seen prowling about, as if scorning disguise, and
unconscious of danger. Indeed, he boldly proclaimed himself a
desperado--carrying his life in his hand--equally careless of it as he
said he should be of the lives of others were any again to attempt his
arrest. His liberty, he declared, would only be yielded with his life;
and whoever should attempt to take him, might rest assured that their
heart's blood would in the same moment be drunk by the earth. His threats
were well understood to be no unmeaning words; and, what added to the
apprehension of the people, was the well-known fact, that he had always
at his beck, openly or in concealment, according to the nature of the
purpose immediately in hand, a band of refugees partaking of his own
desperate character.
His adventures while engaged in this species of warfare were many and
hazardous. Nor did he always confine his operations to the
border-settlements, since he at one time entered the precincts of Albany,
and made a similar attempt to that of Waltermeyer to abduct General
Schuyler from the mansion of the Patroon, where he was then lodged. [FN]
* * * * *
[FN] This account of Joe Bettys has been written from a Fourth-of-July
speech delivered by the late Colonel Ball some ten or twelve years ago.
Among the prisoners made by Bettys and Waltermeyer from Ballston, in the
Spring of 1781, were the following persons, viz: Samuel Nash, Joseph
Chord, Uri Tracy, Ephraim Tracy, Samuel Patchin, Epenetus White, John
Fulmer, and two men named Bontas, who were brothers. They were all taken
to Canada, and roughly used.
It must not be supposed, however, that all hearts quailed before Joe
Bettys. Far from it; and many were the ineffectual attempts made for his
arrest before the measures undertaken for that purpose were again crowned
with success. But in the course of the Winter now under consideration his
wonted vigilance was at fault. A suspicious stranger having been observed
in the neighborhood of Ballston, upon snow-shoes, and well-armed, three
men of that town, named Cory, Perkins, and Fulmer, little doubting as to
the identity of the man, immediately armed themselves and went in pursuit.
He was traced by a circuitous track to the house of a well-known loyalist,
which was fortunately approached with so much circumspection as to enable
the scouts to reach the door unobserved. Breaking the barrier by a sudden
effort, they sprang in upon the black and doubly-dyed traitor, and seized
him before he had opportunity of resistance. He was seated at dinner when
they entered, his pistols lying upon the table, and his rifle resting upon
his arm. He made an attempt to discharge the latter; but forgetting to
remove the deer-skin cover of the lock, did not succeed. Powerful and
muscular as he was, the three were an over-match for him, and he was
immediately so securely pinioned as to render resistance useless and
escape morally impossible.
Apparently resigning himself to his fate, Bettys now requested permission
to smoke, which was readily granted. While taking the tobacco from his
box, and making the usual preparations, he was observed by Cory adroitly
to cast something into the fire. It was instantly snatched from thence
with a handful of coals, and proved to be a small leaden box, about the
eighth of an inch in thickness, and containing a paper in cipher, which
the captors could not read; but it was subsequently ascertained to be a
despatch addressed to the British commander in New-York. It also contained
an order for thirty guineas, provided the despatch should be safely
delivered. Bettys pleaded hard for permission to burn the paper, and
offered a hundred guineas for the privilege. But they refused his gold,
and all his proffered bribes for the means of escape, with the most
unyielding firmness. He then exclaimed--"I am a dead man!" It was even
so. He was taken to Albany, where he was tried, convicted, and executed
as a spy and traitor.
If the conduct of the three captors of Major Andre was patriotic, that of
the three captors of Joe Bettys was both patriotic and brave. Andre was
a gentleman, and without the means of defence; Bettys was formidably
armed, and known to be a desperado. The capture of Andre was by accident;
that of Bettys, by enterprise and design. The taking of the former was
without danger; that of the latter a feat of imminent peril. Andre was
a more important man, by rank and station, than Bettys; but not more
dangerous. Both tempted their captors by gold, and both were foiled. [FN]
The captors of Andre were richly rewarded, and the achievement has been
emblazoned in history, and commemorated by monumental granite. The captors
of Bettys have, until now, never been known to history; and their only
visible reward was the rifle and pistols of their terrible captive. With
such partial hand are the honors and rewards of this world bestowed!
* * * * *
[FN] Colonel Ball.
As already remarked, the substantial fighting of the war was ended by the
surrender of Cornwallis. It is true, there were affairs of outposts
occurring afterward, and some partial fighting took place at the south
early in the season of 1782, between General Wayne and sundry small
British posts, after General Greene had detached the former into Georgia.
The most serious of these affairs was a smart brush with a party of Creek
Indians, near Savannah, on which occasion the British garrison sallied
out to their assistance, but were repulsed. For the most part, however,
the year 1782 was rather a period of armed neutrality than of active war.
The news of the catastrophe at Yorktown at once and materially
strengthened the opposition to the farther prosecution of the contest in
the House of Commons, by which a resolution was soon afterward passed,
declaring "That the House would consider as enemies to his Majesty and
the country, all who should advise or attempt the farther prosecution of
offensive war on the Continent of North America." Sir Henry Clinton was
superseded in the chief command by Sir Guy Carleton, who was specially
instructed to use his endeavors to effect an accommodation with America.
Commissioners for the negotiation of a treaty of peace were soon
afterward appointed, viz: John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, John Jay, and
Henry Laurens on the part of the United States, and Mr. Fitzherbert and
Mr. Oswald on that of Great Britain. On the 30th of November these
commissioners had agreed on provisional articles of peace, as the basis
of a treaty by which the Independence of the United States was
acknowledged in its fullest extent.
As the surrender of Earl Cornwallis was the last important military event
between the main armies, so was the disastrous expedition of Majors Ross
and Butler the last attempt of any magnitude upon the Valley of the
Mohawk. True, indeed, that beautiful region of country had been so utterly
laid waste, that there was little more of evil to be accomplished. But
the chastisement of Major Ross, equally severe and unexpected, had
discouraged the enemy from making any farther attempt in that quarter.
Not, however, that the Indians were entirely quiet. On the contrary, they
hung around the borders of the settlements in small parties, sometimes
causing serious alarms, and at others great trouble and fatigue, and
likewise inflicting considerable injury. On one occasion a party of
thirty-five Indians crossed over from Oswegatchie to Palatine. Falling in
with a scouting party, consisting of Jacob Timmerman and five others, the
Indians fired upon them. Timmerman was wounded, and with one of his
comrades taken prisoner. Two of the party were killed, and the other two
succeeded in making their escape. The prisoners were taken to Oswegatchie,
and thence down to Montreal, where they were confined until the peace.
In consequence of exposures of this description, a vigilant watchfulness
was necessary at all points; and Colonel Willett, who retained the
command, was exactly the officer for the station. He had frequent occasion
to despatch considerable bodies of troops against the straggling parties
of Indians and Tories; but their lightness of foot, and dexterity in
threading the mazes of the forests, generally, if not always, enabled them
to escape. So that no important event transpired in that section of
country during the year.
But while there was so little active warfare on the frontiers of New-York
during the Summer of 1782, the Indians of the remoter west were more
active along the Kentucky frontier than in the preceding year. In May they
ravished, killed, and scalped a woman and her two daughters near Ashton's
station. [FN] The Indians perpetrating this outrage were pursued by
Captain Ashton, at the head of a band of twenty-five men. Being overtaken,
a battle ensued, in which the Indians were victorious. The Captain was
killed, together with eight of his men, and four others were mortally
wounded. In the month of August another Kentucky settlement, called Hoy's
Station, was visited by the Indians, by whom two lads were carried into
captivity. This band was also pursued by Captain Holder, with a party of
seventeen men, who, coming up with the Indians, were likewise defeated
with a loss of seven killed and two wounded. [FN]
* * * * *
[FN] Adventures of Colonel Daniel Boon. There is strong reason to doubt
whether the Indians abused the persons of the women. If true, it was the
only instance of the kind that is believed to have occurred during the
war. It is a proud characteristic of the Indians, that they never
violate the chastity of their female prisoners.
On the 15th of August, the post at Briant's station, five miles from
Lexington, was invested by a far more considerable party of the enemy,
numbering five hundred Indians and Canadians. After killing all the cattle
in the neighborhood, they assaulted the post on the third day but were
repulsed with a loss of about eighty killed and numbers wounded;--how
many, was not known. They were pursued on their retreat by Colonels Todd,
Trigg, and Boon, and Major Harland, at the head of one hundred and
seventy-six men, well armed and provided. The Indians drew the pursuers
into an unfavorable position on the 19th, when a severe battle ensued,
in which the Kentuckians were beaten with the loss of seventy-six men;
among whom were Colonels Todd and Trigg, Major Harland, and a son of
Colonel Boon. The battle lasted only fifteen minutes. The retreat from the
field was yet more disastrous than the battle itself. It was fought on the
banks of the main fork of the Licking river, at the great bend,
forty-three miles from Lexington. The Kentuckians were pursued across the
river, some on horseback and others on foot. Some were killed in the
river, and others while ascending the cliffs beyond. The arrival of the
fugitives at Lexington with the melancholy tidings, occasioned a scene of
weeping and deep lamentation, since a large portion of the male population
had fallen. Being reinforced a few days afterward, Colonel Boon returned
to bury the dead, which he represents as an affair of a most painful
description. So mangled and disfigured were the bodies, that their
identity could not be ascertained. The Colonel was afterward informed that
when the Indians discovered their own loss to have been four more than
that of the Kentuckians, four of the seven prisoners they had taken were
handed over to their young men to be put to death by torture.
On hearing of this disastrous affair, General Clark, who was at the Falls
of the Ohio, directed a pursuit of the Indians to their own towns of Old
and New Chilicothe, Peccaway, and Wills Town. Colonel Boon seems to have
led this expedition, although the fact is not expressly stated in his
narrative. Failing in an attempt to fall upon the Indians by surprise, the
Colonel took possession of their deserted towns, which were burnt with
fire. Seven prisoners and fifteen scalps were taken by the Kentuckians,
whose own loss was but four men; two of whom were killed by accident, not
by Indians. With these incidents closed the Indian war of the Revolution
on the Kentucky border.
But there yet remains a tale of murderous character to be recorded, which,
in its black and inexcusable atrocity, transcends any and every Indian
massacre which marked that protracted and unnatural contest It is a tale
of blood, too, in which the white men--not the Indians--are to be branded
as the savages.
On the banks of the Muskingum resided several communities of Indians, who
had embraced the peaceable tenets of the Moravians. They were of the
Delaware nation, and had removed to the Muskingum from Friedenshutten on
the Big Beaver, and from Wyalusing and Sheshequon on the Susquehanna, in
the year 1772. Notwithstanding the annoyance experienced by them in
consequence of the Cresap war, in 1774, their settlements, which were
named Schoenbrunn, Salem, and Gnadenhuetten, rose rapidly in importance,
and in a short time numbered upward of four hundred people. Among their
converts was the celebrated Delaware chief _Glickhickan,_ famous alike
for his bravery on the war-path, his wisdom in council, and his eloquence
in debate. Their location, being a kind of half-way station between the
white settlements and the hostile Indians of the lakes, was unpleasant
after the war of the Revolution came on, and subjected them to
difficulties alternately arising from the suspicions of both or all of
the belligerent parties, against whose evil intentions toward them they
were occasionally admonished. Still, their labors, their schools, and
their religions exercises were conducted and practised as usual.
Their spiritual guides, at the period now under discussion, were, Michael
Jung, David Zeisberger, and John Heckewelder, known in later times as the
Indian Historian. These people looked upon war with abhorrence;
maintaining that "the Great Being did not make men to destroy men, but to
love and assist each other." They had endeavored to dissuade some of
their own race from taking any part in the contest, and had likewise given
occasional information to the white settlements when threatened with
Indian invasions.
The hostile Indians frequently hovered around their settlements, and
sometimes threatened their destruction, under the pretext that their
neutrality was equivocal, and that they were secretly in alliance with the
Americans, to whom they were in the practice of giving timely notice of
the hostile advances of the Indians in the service of the King. [FN] In
1777 they were visited by the noted Huron chief, _Half King,_ at the head
of two hundred of his warriors, on his way to attack some of the frontier
settlements of Virginia. Half King at first menaced the Moravian
non-combatants; but Glickhickan appeased his ire by a timely supply of
refreshments, and diverted him from his purpose by an opportune speech,
declaring their religious sentiments and praising their missionaries.
* * * * *
[FN] Doddridge.
The British authorities at Detroit were by no means friendly to these
Moravian towns; early in the year 1781 they applied to the Great Council
of the Six Nations, assembled at Niagara, to remove them out of the
country. A message was accordingly sent by the Iroquois to the Ottawas and
Chippewas to this effect: "We herewith make you a present of the Christian
Indians to make soup of;" a figurative Indian expression equivalent to
saying--"We deliver these people to you to be killed." But neither the
Ottawas nor Chippewas would receive the message, which was returned with
the laconic reply--"We have no cause for doing this." The same message was
next sent to the Wyandots, but they at that time were equally indisposed
to make war upon their inoffensive brethren. [FN] But in the Autumn of
the same year, under the influence of McKee and Elliott, who had now
become captains in the ranks of the crown connected with the Indian
service at Detroit, and by reason of the more immediate persuasions of
Simon Girty, the bloodthirsty refugee associate of McKee and Elliott, who
was living among the Wyandots, over whom he had acquired great influence,
the poor Moravians, with their pious and self-denying ministers, were
forcibly removed, or rather compelled, by the hostile Indians, at the
instigation of those men, to remove to Sandusky. The leaders of the
Wyandots compelling this emigration, were Girty, Half King, and the
celebrated Captain Pipe. The sachem-convert, Glickhickan, was also carried
to Sandusky; and a young female relation of his, by her courage and
generosity, had well-nigh cost him his life. Apprehending that evil would
befall her friends, she stole a fine horse belonging to Captain Pipe, and
rode to Pittsburgh, to give the alarm in regard to the captive
missionaries and their congregations. In revenge for this courageous
action, Glickhickan was seized by a party of the Wyandot, or Huron
warriors, who raised the death-song, and would have put him to death but
for the interference of the Half King in his favor. Glickhickan was
subsequently examined by his captors, and his innocence of all
participation in the mission of the heroic squaw fully made to appear.
* * * * *
[FN] Heckewelder.
It was at a great sacrifice of property and comfort that these Indians
were torn thus from their homes. They had more than two hundred heads of
black cattle, and upward of four hundred swine, of which they were
deprived, together with large stores of corn, and three hundred acres more
just ripening for the harvest. They arrived at Sandusky on the 11th of
October--a distance of one hundred and twenty-five miles from their homes.
They were treated with great harshness on their march, especially by
Girty, who, in the course of the Winter subsequent to their removal,
caused their missionaries to be arrested by order of the commandant at
Detroit, to which place they were transferred. [FN]
* * * * *
[FN] These good men, after many trials and vexations, were ultimately
released, and Half King charged all the blame upon Girty, whose iniquity
in the premises the Indian prince indignantly exposed and denounced. The
British Government also censured the conduct of its officers in regard
to the proceedings, especially the harsh treatment of the missionaries.
While the meek and pious missionaries, amid the tears and other
manifestations of grief of their people, were preparing for the journey
to Detroit, intelligence of a most painful character was received. Being
pressed by hunger at Sandusky, a considerable number of the Moravian
Indians, with some of their families, had been allowed to return to their
former habitations on the Muskingum, to secure their corn, and such other
provisions as they could find, and forward the same from time to time to
their suffering brethren. Unhappily, while this peaceable party were thus
engaged at Salem and Gnadenhuetten, the weather being favorable for the
operations of scalping parties, a few hostile Indians of Sandusky had made
a descent upon the Pennsylvania frontier, and murdered the family of Mr.
William Wallace, consisting of his wife and five or six children. A man
named John Carpenter was taken prisoner at the same time.
Enraged at these outrages, a band of between one and two hundred men, from
the settlements of the Monongahela, turned out in quest of the marauders,
thirsting for vengeance, under the command of Colonel David Williamson.
Each man provided himself with arms, ammunition, and provisions, and the
greater number were mounted. They bent their course directly for the
settlements of Salem and Gnadenhuetten, arriving within a mile of the
latter place at the close of the second day's march. Colonel Gibson,
commanding at Pittsburgh, having heard of Williamson's expedition,
despatched messengers to apprise the Indians of the circumstance, but they
arrived too late.
It was on the morning of the 7th of March that Williamson and his gang
reached the settlement of Gnadenhuetten, the very day on which the
Indians, having accomplished their labors, were bundling up their luggage
for retracing their steps to Sandusky. Some of their number, however, were
yet in the fields gathering corn, as were many others in the town of
Salem, at no great distance thence. The party of Williamson divided
themselves into three detachments, so disposed as to approach the
settlements from as many different points at once. The Indians had indeed
been apprised of Williamson's approach by four Delaware Indians on the
day before; but, conscious of their own innocence, and least of all
anticipating harm from the Americans, they continued in their pacific
occupations without suspicion of danger.
When within a short distance of the settlement, though yet in the woods,
the advance guard of one of Williamson's divisions met a young Indian
half-blood, named Joseph Shabosh, whom they murdered in the most cruel and
wanton manner. The youth was catching horses, when he was shot at and
wounded so badly that he could not escape. He then informed them who he
was; stated that his father was a white man and a Christian; and begged
for his life. But they regarded not his entreaties. His arm had been
broken by the first shot. He was killed by a second, tomahawked and
scalped, and cut into pieces with the hatchets of his murderers. Another
Indian youth, a brother-in-law of young Shabosh, who was engaged in
binding corn, about one hundred and fifty yards from the town, saw the
white men approaching. Knowing some of them, however, and supposing them
to be friends, he addressed them as such. But he was soon undeceived. He
saw them shoot one of his Indian brethren who was crossing the river in
a canoe, and immediately ran away in affright. Unfortunately, in his panic
he ran from the village instead of toward it, so that no alarm was given
until the Americans had quite proceeded into the heart of the town.
Many of the Indians were scattered over the fields at work, and were
hailed by Williamson's men representing themselves as "friends and
brothers, who had come purposely from Fort Pitt to relieve them from the
distress brought upon them by the enemy, on account of their being friends
to the American people." The Indians, not doubting their sincerity, gave
credence to their professions, and walking up to them, thanked them for
their kindness. Their treacherous visitors next persuaded them to cease
work and go into the village; as it was their purpose to take them to
Fort Pitt, in order to their greater security from the Wyandots, where
they would be abundantly supplied with all they might want. Delighted with
such an unexpected friendly visitation, the Indians mingled with the
strangers with the utmost cordiality, walking and conversing with them
like old acquaintances. They delivered up their arms, and began with all
alacrity to prepare food for their refreshment. Meantime a messenger was
despatched to Salem, "to inform the brethren and sisters there of what had
taken place at Gnadenhuetten; the messenger giving it as his opinion that
perhaps God had ordained it so, that they should not perish upon the
barrens of Sandusky, and that those people were sent to relieve them."
Pleased with the communication, and yet unwilling to act precipitately,
the party at Salem deputed two of their number to confer with their
brethren and the white men at Gnadenhuetten. Communications were
interchanged, which were mutually satisfactory. The dissembling of
Williamson and his men was so complete as to win the entire confidence of
the simple-minded people; and at the solicitation of the party at
Gnadenhuetten, those at Salem came over and joined their insidious
visitors, for the purpose of removing to the white settlements, where, as
they were farther assured, all their wants would be supplied by the
Moravian brethren at Bethlehem. A party of Williamson's men were detached
to Salem to assist in bringing all the Indians and their effects to
Gnadenhuetten; and, still farther to win upon the easy confidence of
their victims, this precious collection of assassins made zealous
professions of piety, and discoursed to the Indians, and among each other,
upon religious subjects. On leaving Salem, the white men applied the
torch to the houses and church of the village, under the pretext of
depriving the hostile Indians of their benefit.
Having, like their brethren at Gnadenhuetten, delivered up all their arms,
their axes, hatchets, and working-tools, under the stipulation that they
were all to be returned to them at Pittsburgh, the party from Salem set
out with light hearts to enjoy the white man's kind protection. But on
approaching the other village, their apprehensions were awakened, by marks
in the sand, as though an Indian had recently been weltering there in his
blood. They, nevertheless, proceeded to the village to join their
brethren; but on their arrival thither a sad change came over their
waking dream of happiness. Instead of being treated as Christian friends
and brothers, they were at once roughly designated as warriors and
prisoners; and already, previous to their arrival, had their brethren,
sisters, and children at Gnadenhuetten, been seized and confined for the
purpose of being put to death. The party from Salem were now completely
within the toils of their enemies. They could neither fight nor fly.
Besides that their religious creed forbade them to do the one, they had
no weapons of defence, and they were surrounded by armed men, who would
not suffer them to escape.
As a pretext for this usage, Williamson and his men now charged them with
having stolen their horses, and all their working tools and
furniture--charges not only untrue, but known to be so by their accusers.
A more humble, devout, and exemplary community of Christians, probably,
was not at that day to be found in the new world. Under the untiring
instructions of their missionaries, they had been taught the dress and
practices of civilized life. They were tillers of the soil, and had become
so well acquainted with the usages of society, and were so well furnished
with the necessaries and some of the luxuries of life, that they could set
a comfortable table and a cup of coffee before a stranger. All the animals
and articles charged upon them as having been stolen, were their own
private property, honestly acquired. But their protestations of innocence,
and their entreaties, alike were vain. Their betrayers were bent upon
shedding their blood.
Still, the officers were unwilling to take upon themselves the exclusive
responsibility of putting them to death, and the solemn farce of a council
was held upon the subject. By this tribunal it was determined that the
question of life or death should be decided by a vote of the whole
detachment. The men were thereupon paraded, and Williamson put the
question, "whether the Moravian Indians should be taken prisoners to
Pittsburgh, or put to death?" requesting all in favor of saving their
lives to advance in front of the line. Only sixteen or eighteen of the
whole number were by this process found to be inclined to mercy, and the
poor trembling prisoners were immediately admonished that they must
prepare to die.
Some, indeed, there were among the blood-thirsty gang eager to commence
the work of death _instanter_; but as the victims united in begging a
short delay for their devotions, the request was granted. "Then, asking
pardon for whatever offence they had given or grief they had occasioned
to each other, the Indians kneeled down, offering prayers to God their
Saviour--and kissing one another under a flood of tears, fully resigned
to his will, they sang praises unto Him, in the joyful hope that they
would soon be relieved from all pains, and join their Redeemer in
everlasting bliss. During the time of their devotions, the murderers were
consulting on the manner in which they would put them to death." Some
were for setting fire to the houses, and dispatching them as by an _auto
da fe_; others were for killing them outright, and bearing their scalps
as trophies back to their homes; while those who had opposed the execution
yet protested against "the deep damnation of their taking off," and
withdrew. Impatient of delay, the blood-thirsty wretches interrupted the
last hymn they could sing in this world, and demanded if they were not
ready for death. They were answered in the affirmative--the victims
adding: "That they had commended their immortal souls to God, who had
given them the assurance in their hearts that he would receive their
souls." Then seizing a mallet from a cooper's shop, one of the ruffians
commenced the work of murder by knocking the Indians on the head. Having
killed fourteen successively in this manner, he desisted, and handing the
weapon over to another, remarked--"Go on in the same way; I think I have
done pretty well!" Those who had opposed the murder stood at a distance,
wringing their hands, and calling God to witness "that they were innocent
of the lives of these harmless Christian Indians."
The first victim in the other slaughter-house--for such both in which the
Indians were confined became--was an aged Indian woman named Judith, a
widow, of great piety. In a few minutes the work of death was completed.
Ninety Indians, Christians and unarmed--unoffending in every respect--were
murdered in cold blood. Among them were old men and matrons, young men and
maidens, and infants at their mothers' breasts. Sixty-two of the number
were grown persons, one third of whom were women, and the remaining
thirty-four were children. Five of the slain were assistant teachers, two
of whom had been exemplary members of the pious Brainard's congregation
in New Jersey. The convert chief Isaac Glickhickan, was also among the
slain. Only two of the captives escaped this shocking massacre. They were
both young. One of them eluded the murderers by creeping unobserved into
a cellar, from whence he stole into the woods; and the other having been
knocked down and scalped, feigned death, and escaped after the murderers
left the place. This they did not do, however, until they supposed all
were dead. On completing the work, they retired for a short distance to
recruit their strength; but, as though resolved that not a living soul
should have the remotest chance of escape, they returned to take another
look at the dead; and observing a youth, scalped and bloody, supporting
himself with his hands upon the floor in order to rise, the monsters
dispatched him with their hatchets! As night drew on, they set fire to the
buildings, and thereupon departed for their own homes, singing and yelling
with demoniac joy at the victory they had achieved. According to the
accounts of the American newspapers of that day, this massacre was a very
commendable transaction; it was represented that the attack of Williamson
was made upon a body of warriors, who had been collecting a large quantity
of provisions in the Muskingum, for supplying their own warriors and other
hostile savages. It was stated, as the cause of their destruction having
been so complete, that they were surprised and attacked in their cabins
at night; and it was exultingly added, that "about eighty horses fell
into the hands of the victors, which they loaded with the plunder, the
greatest part furs and skins--and returned to the Ohio without the loss
of a man!" [FN]
* * * * *
[FN] Pennsylvania Gazette, April 17,1782. The author will add, in this
place, that the preceding account of this unparalleled case of wholesale
murder has been chiefly prepared from the accurate and laborious
Heckewelder, together with extracts from Doddridge's Notes on the Indian
Wars, and Loekiel, as quoted in Drake's Book of the Indians.
If through the whole extent of the voluminous records of savage wars in
America, a deed of darker treachery, or of deeper atrocity, than this
massacre of the Moravian Indians, is to be found, it has thus far escaped
the research of the author of the present work. The uncivilized and
unchristianized savages themselves were amazed at the enormity of the
bloody deed. But the construction they put upon the transaction, as a
providential occurrence, was curious and striking. They said they had
envied the condition of their relations, the believing Indians, and could
not bear to look upon their happy and peaceful lives in contrast with
their own lives of privation and war. Hence they had endeavored to take
them from their own tranquil homes, and draw them back, into heathenism,
that they might be reduced again to a level with themselves. But the
Great Spirit would not suffer it to be so, and had taken them to himself.
[FN]
* * * * *
[FN] Heckewelder--Nar. Moravian Missions.
After this massacre, the Indians at Sandusky--not only those who were
Christians, but the Wyandots, and others who were hostile, watched the
movements of the whites along the Ohio with ceaseless vigilance. Two
months having expired after the destruction of the Moravians, another
expedition was organized to go against the Wyandots and other Indian
tribes in the Sandusky country. The number of men volunteering for the
campaign, was four hundred and eighty. They were mustered at the old
Mingo towns on the western bank of the Ohio. An election was held for the
office of Commander-in-chief of the expedition--Colonels Williamson and
William Crawford being the candidates. The choice devolved upon the
latter, who was an unwilling candidate, and accepted the post with
reluctance. The same men who had murdered the Moravians, composed the
present army in part, and the march was commenced with a determination
that not the life of an Indian, friend or foe, should be spared. The
expedition had been organized with great secrecy, as it was supposed; and
as the men were mounted, the intention was by a rapid march to fall upon
the Wyandot towns by surprise. Arriving, however, at the Moravian towns
where the murders had been committed, three Indians were discovered by
Crawford, who fled at a pace too rapid to be overtaken. The pursuit of
them was disorderly, and from the conduct of his men on that occasion,
their commander lost confidence in them, and from that moment entertained
a presentiment of defeat. So far from the advance of Crawford being a
secret, it ultimately appeared that the Indians had been narrowly watching
his progress at every step. They saw the gathering at the Mingo towns, and
counted their numbers. They had also been apprised of the resolve that
"no quarter was in any instance to be given." [FN] It was to be expected,
then, that at some point they would be prepared for Crawford's reception.
* * * * *
[FN] Doddridge.
Crawford and Williamson had intended first to strike upon the Moravian
town on the Sandusky; but on arriving at that place, they discovered that
the Indians had seasonably withdrawn so that the brave Williamson had no
non-combatants to vanquish. The town was, in fact, covered with tall
grass, the Indians having removed to the Scioto some time before. Crawford
and Williamson then directed their course for several towns of the hostile
Indians--by whom they were unexpectedly drawn into an engagement upon an
open prairie, the Indian warriors themselves being concealed by the
shrubbery upon its margin. Night came on before the battle was terminated;
and the Indians, expecting a reinforcement from the Shawanese before
morning, made their dispositions for surrounding the Americans at
daylight. But when morning came, the white man was not there. The
Americans, indeed, had not acquitted themselves like soldiers during the
engagement of the preceding afternoon, and they availed themselves of the
darkness to escape--greatly to the mortification of the Indians and their
daring leader, Captain Pipe. They had encamped upon the prairie; and so
silent was their flight, that some of them, not aware of the retreat, were
found by the Indians in the morning still sleeping amid the tall
prairie-grass, where they had laid themselves down.
An active pursuit of the fugitives took place, and many straggling
parties were overtaken and cut to pieces. Upward of a hundred were thus
either killed outright or taken. Among the latter were Colonel William
Crawford, his son, and Doctor McKnight. The former of these gentlemen
had rendered himself particularly offensive to the Indians by his
successful campaigns against them, so that his capture was a triumph. It
was still more unfortunate for him that he was taken while serving with
such a commander as Williamson--against whom, for his cruel treachery at
Gnadenhuetten, the savages were cherishing the bitterest feelings of
revenge. Crawford, however, had not been engaged in that shameful affair,
but being found among the same men who had murdered their friends and
relations in March, the Indians could not draw the distinction. They had
anxiously sought for Williamson, but on being informed that he was among
the first to escape, they called out "revenge! revenge!" on whomsoever
they had in their power.
Crawford would probably have made good his retreat but that he lingered
behind in anxiety for his son, whom he supposed yet to be in the rear.
After wandering two days in the woods with Dr. McKnight, both were taken
by a party of Delawares, and conducted to the Old Wyandot town. Here
Captain Pipe, with his own hands, painted the prisoners black, a certain
premonition of the doom that awaited them. From thence they were taken to
the New Wyandot town, passing on the way the mangled remains of a number
of their fellow-captives. At the new town, the place appointed for the
execution of Crawford, they found the noted Simon Girty. It had been
decided that Crawford should die by the most aggravated torture, to atone
in some degree for the murders by Williamson and his men at Gnadenhuetten.
After he was bound to the fatal post, the surviving Christian Indians were
called upon to come forth and take vengeance on the prisoner; but they had
withdrawn, and their savage relations stepped forward in their stead.
Before the work of torture was commenced, Captain Pipe addressed the
Indians at some length, and in the most earnest manner, at the close of
which they all joined in a hideous yell, and prepared for the work in
hand. The fire was kindled, when it occurred to poor Crawford, that among
the sachems he had a particular friend, named Wingemund. "Where is my
friend Wingemund?" he asked, "I wish to see him." It is true that this
chief had been the warm friend of Colonel Crawford, by whom he had been
entertained at his own house. Under these circumstances Crawford indulged,
a faint degree of hope, that if he could see the chief, his life might yet
be saved. Wingemund was not far distant, having, in fact, retired from the
place of execution, that he might not behold what he could not prevent. He
was sent for, however, and an interesting and even affecting conversation
ensued between himself and the prisoner. This conversation was commenced
by Crawford, who asked the chief if he knew him. He replied that he
believed he did, and asked--"Are you not Colonel Crawford?" "I am,"
replied the Colonel; and the conversation was thus continued--the chief
discovering much agitation and embarrassment, and
ejaculating--"So!--Yes!--Indeed!"
"_Colonel Crawford._ Do you not recollect the friendship that always
existed between us, and that we were always glad to see each other?
"_Sachem._ Yes, I remember all this; and that we have often drunk
together, and that you have been kind to me.
"_Col. C._ Then I hope the same friendship still continues.
"_Sachem._ It would, of course, were you where you ought to be, and not
here.
"_Col. C._ And why not here? I hope you would not desert a friend in time
of need; now is the time for you to exert yourself in my behalf, as I
should do for you were you in my place.
"_Sachem._ Colonel Crawford, you have placed yourself in a situation which
puts it out of my power, and that of others of your friends, to do any
thing for you.
"_Col. C._ How so, Captain Wingemund?
"_Sachem._ By joining yourself to that execrable man, Williamson, and his
party. The man who, but the other day, murdered such a number of the
Moravian Indians, knowing them to be friends; knowing that he ran no risk
in murdering a people who would not fight, and whose only business was
praying.
"_Col. C._ But, I assure you, Wingemund, that had I been with him at the
time, this would not have happened. Not I alone, but all your friends, and
all good men, reprobate acts of this kind.
"_Sachem._ That may be, yet these friends, these good men, did not prevent
him from going out again to kill the remainder of those inoffensive yet
foolish Moravian Indians. I say _foolish,_ because they believed the
whites in preference to us. We had often told them that they would one day
be so treated by those people who called themselves their friends. We told
them there was no faith to be placed in what the white men said; that
their fair promises were only intended to allure, that they might the more
easily kill us, as they have done many Indians before they killed those
Moravians.
"_Col. C._ I am sorry to hear you speak thus. As to Williamson's going out
again, when it was known that he was determined on it, I went out with him
to prevent him from committing fresh murders.
"_Sachem._ This the Indians would not believe, were I to tell them so.
"_Col. C._ And why would they not believe it?
"_Sachem._ Because it would have been out of your power to prevent his
doing what he pleased.
"_Col. C._ Out of my power? Have any Moravian Indians been, killed or hurt
since we came out?
"_Sachem._ None. But you went first to their town, and finding it empty
and deserted, you turned on the path toward us. If you had been in search
of warriors only, you would not have gone thither. Our spies watched you
closely. They saw you while you were embodying yourselves on the other
side of the Ohio. They saw you cross that river; they saw where you
encamped at night; they saw you turn off from the path to the deserted
Moravian town; they knew you were going out of your way; your steps were
constantly watched; and you were suffered quietly to proceed until you
reached the spot where you were attacked.
"_Col. C._ (With emotion.) What do they intend to do with me?
"_Sachem._ I tell you with grief. As Williamson, with his whole cowardly
host, ran off in the night at the whistling of our warriors' balls, being
satisfied that now he had no Moravians to deal with, but men who could
fight, and with such he did not wish to have any thing to do; I say, as he
has escaped, and they have taken you, they will take revenge on you in his
stead.
"_Col. C._ And is there no possibility of preventing this? Can you devise
no way to get me off? You shall, my friend, be well rewarded, if you are
instrumental in saving my life.
"_Sachem._ Had Williamson been taken with you, I and some friends, by
making use of what you have told me, might, perhaps, have succeeded in
saving you; but as the matter now stands, no man would dare to interfere
in your behalf. The King of England himself were he to come to this spot
with all his wealth and treasure, could not effect this purpose. The blood
of the innocent Moravians, more than half of them women and children,
cruelly and wantonly murdered, calls aloud for _revenge._ The relatives of
the slain, who are among us, cry out and stand ready for _revenge._ The
Shawanese, our grand-children, have asked for your fellow-prisoner; on him
they will take _revenge._ All the nations connected with us cry out,
_revenge! revenge!_ The Moravians, whom you went to destroy, having fled
instead of avenging their brethren, the offence has become national, and
the nation itself is bound to take _revenge._
"_Col. C._ My fate is then fixed, and I must prepare to meet death in its
worst form.
"_Sachem._ Yes, Colonel. I am sorry for it, but I cannot do any thing for
you. Had you attended to the Indian principle, that good and evil cannot
dwell together in the same heart, so a good man ought not to go into evil
company, you would not have been in this lamentable situation. You see
now, when it is too late, after Williamson has deserted you, what a bad
man he must be. Nothing now remains for you but to meet your fate like a
brave man. Farewell, Colonel Crawford! They are coming. I will retire to
a solitary spot." [FN]
* * * * *
[FN] Heckewelder's Indian Nations.
On turning away from his friend, whom it was not in his power to assist,
it is said the old Sachem was affected to tears, and could never
afterward speak of the incident without deep emotion. The moment the chief
had left the Colonel, a number of the executioners rushed upon him, and
commenced the work of torture, which was in progress three hours before
the victim fell upon his face and expired with a groan. During the
proceedings against him, he was continually and bitterly upbraided for the
conduct of the white men at Gnadenhuetten. If not himself a participator
in that atrocious affair, they reproached him for having now come against
them with the worst kind of murderers--such as even Indians had not among
them. "Indians," said they, "kill their enemies, but not their friends.
When once they have stretched forth their hand, and given that endearing
name, they do not kill. But how was it with the believing Indians on the
Muskingum? You professed friendship for them. You hailed and welcomed them
as such. You protested they should receive no harm from you. And what did
you afterward to them? They neither ran from you, nor fired a single shot
on your approach. And yet you called them warriors, knowing they were not
such! Did you ever hear warriors pray to God, and sing praises to him, as
they did? Could not the shrieks and cries of the innocent little children
excite you to pity, and to save their lives? No! you did not! You would
have the Indians believe you are Christians, because you have the Great
Book among you, and yet you are murderers in your hearts! Never would the
unbelieving Indians have done what you did, although the Great Spirit has
not put his Book into their hands as into yours! The Great Spirit taught
you to read all that he wanted you to do, and what he forbade that you
should do. These Indians believed all that they were told was in that
Book, and believing, strove to act accordingly. We knew you better than
they did. We often warned them to beware of you and your pretended
friendship; but they would not believe us. They believed nothing but good
of you, and for this they paid with their lives." [FN]
* * * * *
[FN] Heckewelder's Narrative of the Moravian Missions. "There was farther
a circumstance much against this unfortunate man, which enraged the
Indians to a high degree. It was reported that the Indian spies sent to
watch their movements, on examining a camp which Crawford and Williamson
had left, west of the Ohio, had found on trees peeled for the purpose,
the words, written with coal and other mineral substances--'_No quarters
to be given to an Indian, whether man, woman, or child._' When the
Indians find inscriptions on trees or other substances, they are in the
habit of making exact copies of them, which they preserve until they find
some one to read or interpret them. Such was the fact in the present
case, and the inscription was sufficient to enrage them."--_Idem._
It was, indeed, most unhappy for Colonel Crawford, that he had been
captured in such company; but never were reproaches more righteously
heaped upon the heads of the guilty than on this occasion. Never was the
scorpion lash of satire more justly inflicted--could but the really guilty
have been there to feel its withering rebuke. The son of Colonel Crawford,
himself doomed to the same fate, was present with Dr. Knight, {_sic_} and
obliged to behold the torture, and listen to the agonising ejaculations of
his parent, without being able to render assistance or offer a word of
consolation. [FN] The sufferings of the son followed close upon those of
the father; but with Dr. Knight it was otherwise. He was reserved for
sacrifice by the Shawanese, and while on his way thither contrived to
escape, and, after twenty-one days of hardship and hunger in the
wilderness, succeeded in gaining Fort McIntosh.
* * * * *
[FN] Withren's Chronicles, quoted by Drake in his Book of the Indians.
Dr. Ramsay says it was Colonel Crawford's son-in-law who was present, and
subsequently underwent the same fate.
The defeat of Colonel Boon at the Blue Licks in August, the massacre of
the Moravian Indians, and the fate of Crawford and his expedition, are the
last tales of blood connected with the American Revolution. It is true
that in September following, a large body of Indians laid siege to the
fort at Wheeling, but the siege was raised without farther bloodshed than
the death of one man in the fort and of three or four without. A barn was
burnt at Rice's fort, which was also invested, but not seriously, and the
Indians withdrew to their own wilds. Should the details of the last few
pages be considered rather too ample for the general plan of the present
work, it must be remembered that the awarding of justice to the Indian
character also entered largely into its design. The transaction on the
Muskingum forms one of the darkest pages in the records of civilized war;
unsurpassed, certainly, if not unparalleled, in the history, written or
unwritten, of the whole aboriginal race. The victims were not only
innocent and harmless, but, obedient to the precepts of their religion,
offered no resistance to their hypocritical murderers, and poured out
their blood like water--crimson libations in sacrifice to the white man's
rapacity and hate. Nor can the Indians be censured for the fate of
Crawford.
With the exception of the Indian details in the present chapter, the year
1782 passed away without furnishing any military operations of moment,
under the immediate direction of the respective Commanders-in-chief. Sir
Guy Carleton had probably been restrained from offensive war by
instructions conforming to the pacific vote of the House of Commons, cited
in the early part of the present chapter; while the condition of the
American army, had Washington been otherwise disposed, disabled him from
making any attempt on the posts in possession of the British. Generals
Greene and Wayne had reconquered the south; and Sir Guy Carleton had
directed the officers of his Majesty in the north to send out no more
Indian expeditions and to recall those already on foot. Still,
notwithstanding all these conciliatory indications, there remained a
possibility that the conflict was not yet ended. A change of ministers in
England might produce a change of policy. In view of this uncertainty, the
Commander-in-chief relaxed none of his efforts during the year to
preserve the discipline of the army, and keep the country in an attitude
of defence. In pursuance of this policy, in the month of January, 1783,
news of the signing of a treaty of peace not having yet been received,
the Commander-in-chief conceived the project of surprising and obtaining
possession of the important fortress of Oswego. It was the occupation of
this post which gave the British such ready facilities for intriguing with
the Six Nations on the one hand, and for pouring their motley battalions
down upon the American settlements; and the Commander-in-chief judged
wisely, that in the event of another campaign the possession of that
fortress would be of the first consequence to the Americans, being then
one of the most formidable military defences on the Continent.
* * * * *
[FN] Marshall.
Having determined to attempt its capture by surprise, the execution of the
project was confided to Colonel Willett. With the utmost secrecy
therefore, as to destination, the troops of his command were suddenly
assembled at Fort Herkimer on the eighth of February. Commencing their
march immediately, on the night of the 9th they crossed the Oneida lake,
and arrived at Oswego Falls, a few miles only from the fortress, by two
o'clock P. M. on the following day. With the small force under his
command, and without the means of prosecuting a siege, it was of course
necessary to carry the works by escalade if at all. Halting, therefore, at
the Falls, the necessary ladders were constructed and the march was
resumed. At 10 o'clock in the evening they were within four miles of the
fort. After which, having marched about two hours, and not coming in sight
of the point of destination, an investigation of the cause was undertaken,
when, to the astonishment and mortification of the Commander, and to the
vexation of the whole corps, it was ascertained that, by diverging from
the river, their guide, a young Oneida Indian, had lost his way. The
situation was, indeed, awkward and perplexing. They had been at one time
nearly within speaking distance of the works, and the shout of victory was
almost raised in anticipation, when suddenly they discovered that they
were lost in a deep forest, in the depth of winter, and amid mountains of
snow. It was too late to prosecute the enterprise any farther that night.
They could not remain in the vicinity of the fortress over the ensuing
day without being discovered. And the instructions of the
Commander-in-chief were peremptory, that if they failed in surprising the
fort, the attempt would be unwarrantable. The only alternative, therefore,
was to relinquish the enterprise, and reluctantly retrace their steps. It
was a sad mistake of the poor Indian, but not an error of design. The
march had been one of great severity and fatigue. The guide had led them
into a swamp, and while they were standing still, after discovering
themselves to be lost, so cold was the weather, that the feet of some of
the men froze into the mire. The return march was even more painful still,
because of the lameness of some and the varied sufferings of others. One
man was frozen to death. But all happened well in the end, for on Colonel
Willett's return to Fort Rensselaer, and thence to Albany, he arrived at
the ancient Dutch capital just in season to hear the welcome news of peace
proclaimed by the Town Clerk at the City Hall, and to mingle his
rejoicings with those of the inhabitants.
An agreement for the cessation of hostilities between the United States
and Great Britain was signed by the respective commissioners of the two
powers on the 20th of January, upon the basis of the articles stipulated
in Paris on the 30th of the preceding November. And on the 24th of March,
a letter was received from the Marquis de Lafayette, announcing a general
peace. On the 11th of April Congress issued its proclamation, declaring
the cessation of arms by sea and land.
In regard to the failure of Colonel Willett's last expedition, no possible
censure was imputable to him. In reply to the Colonel's official account
of the affair, General Washington wrote a characteristic letter,
approving of his conduct, and consoling him for his disappointment.
"Unfortunate as the circumstance is," said the Commander-in-chief, "I am
happy in the persuasion that no imputation or reflection can justly reach
your character; and that you are enabled to derive much consolation from
the animated zeal, fortitude, and activity of the officers and soldiers
who accompanied you. The failure, it seems, must be attributed to some of
those unaccountable events which are not within the control of human
means, and which, though they often occur in military life, yet require,
not only the fortitude of the soldier, but the calm reflection of the
philosopher to bear. I cannot omit expressing to you the high sense I
entertain of your persevering exertions and zeal on this expedition; and
beg you to accept my warm thanks on the occasion; and that you will be
pleased to communicate my gratitude to the officers and men who acted
under your command, for the share they had in that service."
Thus ends the history of the border wars of the American Revolution--the
principal theatres of which were in the districts north and west of
Albany. The vale of the Mohawk, including its intersecting valley of the
Schoharie-kill, was among the most thickly populated and wealthy
agricultural districts of the country at the commencement of the war. The
productiveness of its soil, and the riches of its people, rendered it
ever an inviting object of plunder to the enemy--especially to the
savages, and the swarms of refugees who had fled from the country, and
were sharing a precarious livelihood among the Indian wigwams and in the
wilds of Canada. Its geographical position, moreover, rendered it the
most easily assailable of any well-peopled section of the whole Union;
while at the same time the larger armies of the enemy were employed
elsewhere, and of course required the greatest portion of the physical
strength of the country elsewhere to oppose them. The consequence of
these, and other circumstances that might be enumerated, was, that no
other section or district of country in the United States, of the like
extent, suffered in any comparable degree as much from the war of the
Revolution as did that of the Mohawk. It was the most frequently invaded
and overrun; and that, too, by an enemy far more barbarous than the native
barbarians of the forest. Month after month, for seven long years, were
its towns and villages, its humbler settlements and isolated habitations,
fallen upon by an untiring and relentless enemy, until, at the close of
the contest, the appearance of the whole district was that of wide-spread,
heart-sickening, and universal desolation. In no other section of the
confederacy were so many campaigns performed, so many battles fought, so
many dwellings burnt, or so many murders committed. And those who were
left at the return of peace, were literally a people "scattered and
peeled." It was the computation, two years before the close of the war,
that one third of the population had gone over to the enemy, and that one
third had been driven from the country, or slain in battle and by private
assassination. And yet, among the inhabitants of the other remaining
third, in June, 1783, it was stated, at a public meeting held at Fort
Plain, that there were three hundred widows and two thousand orphan
children. But with the news of peace the dispersed population began to
return to the sites of their former homes. [FN] Their houses were rebuilt,
and their farms once more brought into cultivation; while different and
not less enterprising occupants, deriving their titles from the state,
took possession of the confiscated lands of those who had adhered to the
cause of the crown. The spirit of industry and enterprise, so
characteristic of the American people, was not long in imparting a new
aspect to the scene; and Tryon County, exchanging her name for that of the
patriot Montgomery, soon smiled through her tears.
* * * * *
[FN] Along with the returning patriots, as Satan was wont in the olden
time occasionally to present himself in better company, some of the
Tories began to steal back into the country they had forsaken, and
assisted to drench in tears of blood. But the Whig population would not
endure their presence. The preceding narrative of events has shown that
the Tryon County loyalists, who had taken arms in company with the
Indians, were far more revengeful and bloody than were the Indians
themselves. It is no marvel, therefore, that a feeling of peculiar
bitterness against them existed in the bosoms of those who had suffered
so keenly at their hands. These feelings were embodied and declared at
two public meetings held in different sections of Tryon County, in June,
1783; for which, see Appendix, No. V.
Other scenes and other wars will afford materials for the remaining
chapters of the present volumes, as connected with the subsequent life
and career of Joseph Brant--Thayendanegea.