It was soon perceived that the American fire could produce, on a concealed enemy, no considerable effect, and that the only hope of victory was placed in the bayonet. At the head of the second regiment, which formed the left of the left wing, Lieutenant-Colonel Darke made an impetuous charge upon the enemy, forced them from their ground with some loss and drove them about 400 yards. He was followed by that whole wing, but the want of a sufficient number of riflemen to press this advantage deprived him of the benefit which ought to have been derived from this effort, and, as soon as he gave over the pursuit, the Indians renewed their attack. In the meantime General Butler was mortally wounded, the left of the right wing was broken, the artillerists almost to a man killed, the guns seized, and the camp penetrated by the enemy. With his own regiment and with the battalions commanded by Majors Butler and Clarke, Darke was ordered again to charge with the bayonet. These orders were executed with intrepidity and momentary success. The Indians were driven out of the camp, and the artillery recovered. But while they were pressed in one point by the bravest of the American troops, their fire was kept up from every other with fatal effect. Several times particular corps charged them, always with partial success, but no universal effort could be made, and in every charge a great loss of officers was sustained, the consequences of which were severely felt. Instead of keeping their ranks, and executing the orders which were given, a great proportion of the soldiers flocked together in crowds and were shot down without resistance. To save the remnant of his army was all that remained to be done, and about half past 9 in the morning General St. Clair ordered Lieutenant-Colonel Darke, with the Second regiment, to charge a body of Indians who had intercepted their retreat and to gain the road. Major Clarke, with his battalion, was directed to cover the rear. These orders were executed and a disorderly flight commenced. The pursuit was kept up about four miles, when, fortunately for the surviving Americans, that avidity for plunder which is a ruling passion among savages, called back the victorious Indians to the camp, where the spoils of their vanquished foes were to be divided. The routed troops continued their flight to Fort Jefferson, a distance of about thirty miles, throwing away their arms on the road. At this place they met Major Hamtranck with the First regiment, and a council of war was called to deliberate on the course to be pursued. As this regiment was far from restoring the strength of the morning, it was determined not to attempt to retrieve the fortune of the day, and, leaving the wounded at Fort Jefferson, the army continued its retreat to Fort Washington.
In this disastrous battle the loss on the part of the Americans was very great when compared with the numbers engaged. Thirty-eight commissioned officers were killed upon the field, and 593 noncommissioned officers and privates were slain and missing. Twenty-one commissioned officers, several of whom afterward died of their wounds, and 242 noncommissioned officers and privates were wounded. Among the dead was the brave and much-lamented General Butler. This gallant officer had served through the war of the Revolution, and had, on more than one occasion, distinguished himself in a remarkable manner. In the list of those who shared his fate were the names of many other excellent officers who had participated in all the toils, the dangers, and the glory of that long conflict which terminated in the independence of their country. At the head of the list of wounded were Lieutenant-Colonels Gibson and Darke, Major Butler, and Adjutant-General Sargent, all of whom were veteran officers of great merit, who displayed their accustomed bravery on this unfortunate day. General St. Clair, in his official letter, observed: "The loss the public has sustained by the fall of so many officers, particularly of General Butler and Major Ferguson, cannot be too much regretted, but it is a circumstance that will alleviate the misfortune in some measure, that all of them fell most gallantly doing their duty."
From the weight of the fire and the circumstance of his being attacked nearly at the same time in front and rear, General St. Clair was of opinion that he was overpowered by numbers. The intelligence afterward collected would make the Indian force to consist of from 1,000 to 1,500 warriors. Of their loss no estimate could be made; the probability is that it bore no proportion to that sustained by the American army.
Nothing could be more unexpected than this severe disaster. The public had confidently anticipated a successful campaign and could not believe that the general who had been unfortunate had not been culpable.
General St. Clair requested with earnestness that a court-martial should sit on his conduct, but this request could not be granted, because the army did not furnish a sufficient number of officers of a grade to form a court for his trial on military principles. Late in the session a committee of the House of Representatives was appointed to inquire into the cause of the failure of the expedition, whose report, in explicit terms, exculpated St. Clair. This inquiry, however, was instituted rather for the purpose of investigating the conduct of civil than of military officers, and was not conducted by military men. More satisfactory testimony in favor of St. Clair is furnished by the circumstance that he still retained the undiminished esteem and good opinion of the President. {5}
The confidence of Washington in St. Clair, however, had been very severely shaken on his first receiving intelligence of his defeat. This fact is known by the recent publication of an anecdote communicated by Mr. Lear to the Hon. Richard Rush, and by him inserted in his "Washington in Domestic Life," as follows:
"An anecdote I derived from Colonel Lear shortly before his death in 1816," says Mr. Rush, "may here be related, showing the height to which his (Washington's) passion would rise yet be controlled. It belongs to his domestic life which I am dealing with, having occurred under his own roof, whilst it marks public feeling the most intense and points to the moral of his life. I give it in Colonel Lear's words as nearly 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 in Philadelphia, and, giving the bridle to his servant, knocked at the door of his mansion. Learning from the porter that the President was at dinner, he said he was on public business and had dispatches 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 dispatches 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 10 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 slowly 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 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 into 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.