Washington and the American Republic, Vol. 3.

by Benson John Lossing

In his address, the president congratulated Congress on the general prosperity of the country, the success of its financial measures, and the disposition generally manifested to submit to the excise law. He dwelt at considerable length upon Indian affairs, recommending a just, impartial, and humane policy toward the savages, as the best means of securing peace on the frontier. He announced that the site of the federal capital had been selected and the city laid out on the bank of the Potomac. He again called their attention to the subject of a reorganization of the post-office department, the establishment of a mint, the adoption of a plan for producing uniformity in weights and measures, and making provision for the sale of the public lands of the United States.

The expedition against the Indians in the northwest had, meanwhile, been in progress, with varying fortunes, sometimes successful and sometimes not. At length painful rumors, and finally positive statements, came that a terrible calamity had overtaken St. Clair and his command. These troops had assembled in the vicinity of Fort Washington (now Cincinnati) early in September, and consisted nominally of two thousand regulars and one thousand militia, including a corps of artillery and several squadrons of horse. They were compelled to cut a road through the wilderness, and erect forts to keep up communication between the Ohio and the Wabash, the base of their operations. Desertions were numerous, and the refuse of western population often filled the places of these delinquents. Insubordination prevailed; and, to increase St. Clair's difficulties, he was so afflicted with the gout that he could not walk, and had to be lifted on and off his horse.

At length the little army, reduced to fourteen hundred effective men, rank and file, by desertion and the absence of a corps sent to apprehend deserters, had penetrated to a tributary of the Wabash fifteen miles south of the Miami villages, and almost a hundred from Fort Washington. There, before sunrise on the fourth of November, while the main body were encamped in two lines on rising ground, and the militia upon a high flat on the other side of the stream a quarter of a mile in advance, they were surprised and fiercely attacked by a large number of Indians, who fell first upon the militia, and then with deadly power upon the regulars. Great carnage ensued. The enemy, concealed in the woods, poured a destructive fire upon the troops from almost every point. St. Clair, unable to mount his horse, was carried about in a litter, and gave his orders with discretion and the most perfect coolness. Nearly all the officers and half the army were killed. For two hours and a half the desperate contest raged. Finally St. Clair ordered a retreat. It at once became a disorderly flight. The artillery, baggage, and many of the wounded, were left behind. Many of the troops threw away their arms, ammunition, and accoutrements. Some of the officers divested themselves of their fusees, that their flight might not be impeded. The general was mounted upon a lazy pack-horse, who could not be spurred into a gallop; but, as the enemy did not pursue more than a mile or two, St. Clair and the survivors of the battle escaped to Fort Jefferson, a distance of twenty-five miles. The retreat was continued the next day toward Fort Washington, where the shattered army arrived on the eighth. The entire loss was estimated at six hundred and seventy-seven killed, including thirty women, and two hundred and seventy-one wounded.

The late Richard Rush, of Philadelphia, has left on record the following graphic account of the effect which the intelligence of St. Clair's defeat had upon Washington. It was from an eye-witness:—

“An anecdote I derived from Colonel Lear,” says Mr. Rush, “shortly before his death in 1816, may here be related, showing the height to which Washington's passion would rise, yet be controlled. It belongs to his domestic life, with which I am dealing, having occurred under his own roof, while it marks public feeling the most intense, and points to the moral of his life. I give it in Colonel Lear's words, as near as I can, having made a note of them at the time.

“Toward the close of a winter's day in 1791, an officer in uniform was seen to dismount in front of the president's house, in Philadelphia, and giving the bridle to his servant, knocked at the door of the mansion. Learning from the porter that the president was at dinner, he said he was on public business and had despatches for the president. A servant was sent into the dining-room to give the information to Mr. Lear, who left the table and went into the hall, where the officer repeated what he had said. Mr. Lear replied that, as the president's secretary, he would take charge of the despatches and deliver them at the proper time. The officer made answer that he had just arrived from the western army, and his orders were to deliver them with all promptitude, and to the president in person; but that he would wait his directions. Mr. Lear returned, and in a whisper imparted to the president what had passed. General Washington rose from the table and went to the officer. He was back in a short time, made a word of apology for his absence, but no allusion to the cause of it. He had company that day. Everything went on as usual. Dinner over, the gentlemen passed to the drawing-room of Mrs. Washington, which was open in the evening. The general spoke courteously to every lady in the room, as was his custom. His hours were early, and by ten o'clock all the company had gone. Mrs. Washington and Mr. Lear remained. Soon Mrs. Washington left the room.

“The general now walked backward and forward for some minutes without speaking. Then he sat down on a sofa by the fire, telling Mr. Lear to sit down. To this moment there had been no change in his manner since his interruption at the table. Mr. Lear now perceived emotion. This rising in him, he broke out suddenly: 'It's all over! St. Clair's defeated—routed; the officers nearly all killed—the men by wholesale—the rout complete! too shocking to think of!—and a surprise in the bargain!'

“He uttered all this with great vehemence. Then he paused, got up from the sofa, and walked about the room several times, agitated, but saying nothing. Near the door he stopped short and stood still a few seconds, when his wrath became terrible.

“'Yes!' he burst forth, 'HERE, on this very spot, I took leave of him: I wished him success and honor. “You have your instructions,” I said, “from the secretary of war: I had a strict eye to them, and will add but one word—beware of a surprise! I repeat it—beware of a surprise! You know how the Indians fight us.” He went off with that as my last solemn warning thrown into his ears. And yet, to suffer that army to be cut to pieces, hacked by a surprise—the very thing I guarded him against! O God! O God! he's worse than a murderer! How can he answer it to his country? The blood of the slain is upon him—the curse of widows and orphans—the curse of Heaven!'

“This torrent came out in tone appalling. His very frame shook. 'It was awful!' said Mr. Lear. More than once he threw his hands up as he hurled imprecations upon St. Clair. Mr. Lear remained speechless—awed into breathless silence.