Such is the account of this melancholy affair by Dr. Ramsay, a friend of General Washington, and a distinguished officer in the American army. Let us note Dr. Ramsay's admissions and his omissions. He admits that the Tories or Loyalists had been persecuted, imprisoned, plundered, and banished; that no less than twenty-seven of them had been taken, and sent to Hartford, in Connecticut, but were afterwards released; yet he might have added that they were kept prisoners nearly a year, and then discharged for want of any evidence against them. It is also admitted that "others of the same description (as those who had been sent prisoners to Connecticut) were instigated by revenge against the Americans, from whom some of them had suffered banishment and loss of property." It is likewise admitted that the whole invading party consisted of but 1,100 men, of whom only 200 were Tories, the remaining 900 being Indians. But it is not stated that those Indians were neighbours, and many of them the connections of the northern tribes of those Indians whose settlements had been invaded, their fields and towns destroyed, as a precaution lest they should co-operate with the British; nor is it said that many of these Indians were residents in the neighbourhood, and were treated like the Tories.

It furthermore appears from this narrative that the Americans in Wyoming were not even taken by surprise, but were prepared for their enemy; that none were killed except in the conflict of the battle; that the thirty men and two hundred women in the garrison were not murdered, but were "permitted (with their effects) to cross the Susquehanna and retreat to Northampton." The taking of the cattle and burning of the houses and barns was after the example of the Americans in invading and destroying the Indian settlements. It is therefore clear, according to Dr. Ramsay's own narrative, that the "Massacre of Wyoming" was not an unprovoked aggression, like that of the Americans against the more Southern Indians, but a retaliation for injuries previously inflicted by the aggressors.[85]

But as the "Massacre of Wyoming" is the case selected by American historians and poets to exhaust their indignation against English cruelty in employing the Indians in the civil war, we will not dismiss it with the above cursory remarks, but will examine it with some degree of minuteness.

Wyoming was a pleasant and fertile valley, situated on the eastern branch of the Susquehanna, and consisted of eight townships, five square miles each. It had been claimed as part of Pennsylvania; but Connecticut, relying upon the authority of a more ancient Charter, had since the last war made a large settlement on the banks of that beautiful river. "The exquisitely beautiful valley of Wyoming, where, on the banks of the Susquehanna, the wide and rich meadows, shut in by walls of wooded mountains, attracted emigrants from Connecticut, through their claim of right under the Charter of their native colony, was in conflict with the territorial jurisdiction of the proprietaries of Pennsylvania."[86]

Such was the scene of a tragedy which thrilled all America and Europe; for the accounts published in Europe were the repetitions of the exaggerated American statements, omitting for the most part the causes of the tragedy and the retaliation which followed it.

I will now present and collate the three other accounts, with that of Dr. Ramsay, of those tragical events on both sides.

Mr. Bancroft states as follows:

"The Seneca tribe, fresh from the memory of their chiefs and braves who fell in conflict with the New York husbandmen at Oriskany. Their king, Sucingerachton, was, both in war and in council, the foremost man of all the Six Nations. Compared with him, the Mohawk Brant, who had been but lately known upon the warpath, was lightly esteemed.[87] His attachment to the English increased to a passion on the alliance of the Americans with the French, for whom he cherished implacable hate. Through his interest, and by the blandishments of gifts and pay and chances of revenge, Colonel John Butler lured the Seneca warriors to cross the border of Pennsylvania under the British flag.

"The party of savages and rangers, numbering between five hundred and seven hundred men, fell down the Tioga river, and on the last day of June hid in the forests above Wyoming. The next day the two northernmost forts capitulated. The men of Wyoming, old and young, with one regular company, in all hardly more than three hundred, took counsel with one another, and found no hope of deliverance for their families but through a victorious encounter with a foe twice their number, and more skilful in the woods than themselves. On the 3rd day of July, the devoted band, led by Colonel Zebulon Butler, who had just returned from the continental service, began their march up the river.[88] The horde of invaders, pretending to retreat, crouched themselves on the ground in the open wood. The villagers of Wyoming began firing as they drew near, and at the third volley stood within a hundred yards of the ambush, when the Seneca braves began the attack, and were immediately seconded by the rangers. The Senecas gave no quarter, and in less than half an hour took two hundred and twenty-five scalps, among them those of two field officers and seven captains. The rangers saved but five of their captives. On the British side only two whites were killed and eight Indians wounded. The next day the remaining forts, filled chiefly with women and children, capitulated. The long and wailing procession of survivors flying from their fields of corn, their gardens, the flames of their cottages, the unburied bodies of their beloved defenders, escaped by a pass through the hills to the eastern settlements. Every fort and dwelling was burned down.

"The Senecas spread over the surrounding country, adepts in murder and ruin. The British leader boasted in his report that his party had burned a thousand houses and every mill (a great exaggeration). Yet, marauders came to destroy and deal deaths, not to recover or hold; and the ancient affection for England was washed out in blood (more truly, the revenge for wrongs previously received). When the leader of the inroad turned to desolate other scenes, Pennsylvania was left in undisputed possession of her soil." (Bancroft's History of the United States, Vol. X., Chap. v., pp. 137, 138.)