[FN] Marshall's Life of Washington. For a ballad giving an account of this disastrous battle, see Appendix, No. VII.
The loss of the Indians, was about one hundred and fifty killed and a considerable number wounded. Their immediate booty was all the camp equipage and baggage, six or eight field-pieces, and four hundred horses. As the contest was one for land, the Indians, in their mutilations of the dead, practised a bitter sarcasm upon the rapacity of the white men, by filling their mouths with the soil they had marched forth to conquer. [FN]
[FN] Two years afterward, when the battle-ground was re-occupied by the army of Wayne, its appearance was most melancholy. Within the space of about three hundred and fifty yards square were found five hundred skull bones, the most of which were collected and buried. For about five miles in the direction of the retreat of the army, the woods were strewn with skeletons and muskets. Two brass field-pieces were found in a creek not far distant.—Drake's Book of the Indians.
General St. Clair imputed no blame to his officers. On the contrary, he awarded them the highest praise for their good conduct; and of those who were slain, he remarked,—"It is a circumstance that will alleviate the misfortune in some measure, that all of them fell most gallantly doing their duty." From the fact of his being attacked at all points as it were at the same moment, it was the General's opinion that he had been overwhelmed by numbers. But from subsequent investigation it appeared that the Indian warriors counted only from a thousand to fifteen hundred. But they fought with great desperation. Their leader, according to the received opinion, was Meshecunnaqua, or, the Little Turtle, a distinguished chief of the Miamis. He was also the leader of the Indians against General Harmar the year before. It is believed, however, that though nominally the commander-in-chief of the Indians on this occasion, he was greatly indebted both to the counsels and the prowess of another and an older chief. One hundred and fifty of the Mohawk warriors were engaged in this battle; and General St. Clair probably died in ignorance of the fact, that one of the master-spirits against whom he contended, and by whom he was so signally defeated, was none other than Joseph Brant—Thayendaneqea. [FN] How it happened that this distinguished chief, from whom so much had been expected as a peace maker, thus suddenly and efficiently threw himself into a position of active hostility, unless he thought he saw an opening for reviving his project of a great north-western Confederacy, is a mystery which he is believed to have carried in his own bosom to the grave.
[FN] This interesting fact has been derived by the author from Thayendanegea's family. He has in vain sought for it in print. It is the circumstance of Brant's having been engaged in this battle, that prompted the author to give so full a narrative of the event, and the incidents attending it, in this place. It would seem that the government of the United States was sadly at fault as to the numbers and tribes of the Indians who fought this battle; and when, in the month of January, 1798, Captain Peter Pond and William Steedman were sent into the Indian country as messengers, it was a part of their instructions to obtain information upon these points.—Vide Indian State papers, vol. iv. p. 227.
The news of the decisive defeat of General St. Clair spread a gloom over the whole country—deepened by the mourning for the many noble spirits who had fallen. The panic that prevailed along the whole north-western border, extending from the confines of New-York to the estuary of the Ohio, was great beyond description. The inhabitants feared that the Indians, emboldened by success, and with greatly augmented numbers, would pour down upon them in clouds, and lay waste all the frontier settlements with the torch and the tomahawk, even if some modern Alaric of the forest did not lead his barbarians to the gates of Rome. Nor were these apprehensions by any means groundless. During the twelve months that followed the rout of St. Clair, the depredations of the savages became more furious and ferocious than ever before; and some of the most tragical scenes recorded in history took place on the extended line of the frontiers. [FN]
[FN] Thatcher's Lives of the Indian Chiefs—Little Turtle. As an example, the author cites a well-authenticated case, occurring in what was then perhaps the moat populous section of the west. The proprietor of a dwelling-house in Kentucky, whose name was Merrill, being alarmed by the barking of his dog, on going to the door received a fire from an assailing party of Indians, which broke his right leg and arm. They attempted to enter the house, but were anticipated in their movement by Mrs. Merrill and her daughter, who closed the door so firmly as to keep them at bay. They next began to cut their way through the door, and succeeded in breaking an aperture, through which one of the warriors attempted to enter. The lady, however, was prepared for the event, and as he thrust his head within, she struck it open with an axe, and instantly drew his body into the house. His companions, not knowing the catastrophe, but supposing that he had worked his way through successfully, attempted one after another, to follow. But Mrs. Merrill dealt a fatal blow upon every head that pushed itself through, until five warriors lay dead at her feet. By this time the party without had discovered the fate of their more forward companions, and thought they would effect an entrance by a safer process—a descent of the chimney. The contents of a feather-bed were instantly emptied upon the fire, creating a smoke so dense and pungent, as to bring two more warriors headlong down upon the hearth in a state of half-suffocation. The moment was critical, as the mother and daughter were guarding the door. The husband, however, by the assistance of his little son, though sorely maimed, managed to rid himself of those two unwelcome visitors by a billet of wood. Meantime the wife repelled another assault at the door—severely wounding another Indian; whereupon the assailants relinquished the siege. For another highly interesting narrative of border sufferings in the Spring of 1792, see Appendix, No. VIII.