University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER X.

WILLIAMSON'S CAMPAIGN.

This is a chapter in our history which we would fain drop,
and draw over it the curtain of oblivion, did not our duty
require us to speak in deference to a higher obligation. The
murder of the Christian or Moravian Indians, was one of the
most atrocious affairs in the settlement of the west. It is a
reproach upon the character of the country, and a living
stigma upon the memory of every man known to have been
engage in the diabolical transaction. It is but justice, however,
that those who protested against the enormity should
be exonerated from blame.

The Moravian Indians consisted chiefly of Delawares, with
a few Mohicans. These simple-minded children of the forest
had become converted to Christianity through the zeal and
influence of Moravian Missionaries. Their homes embraced
the villages of Gnadenhutten, Schönbrunn, Salem and Lichtenau.

For ten years they had lived in peace and quietness. The
harsh savage had been softened by the mild influences of
Christianity; peace, content and happiness smiled upon him
from year to year, and blessed him with their joys. But, alas,
the destroyer came, and blotted this fair field of Christian
labor utterly from existence.

The Moravian Indians early became objects of suspicion to
both the whites and surrounding savages. The latter, because
they had given up the customs of their race; and by the former,
on account of their supposed protection to, or harboring of,
hostile Indians. Their towns lay immediately on the track

from Sandusky to the nearest point on the Ohio; and while
passing to and fro, the hostile parties would compel their
Christian brethren to furnish provisions. Thus situated, as
it were, between two fires, it is not surprising that they should
have fallen a sacrifice to one or the other. During the whole
of our Revolutionary struggle, the Moravian Indians remained
neutral, or if they took any part, it was in favor of the whites,
advising them of the approach of hostile Indians, &c. Yet,
notwithstanding all their former friendliness, they fell under
the displeasure of the border settlers, who suspected them
of aiding and abetting the savages, whose depredations upon
the frontier had caused so much terror and misery throughout
western Virginia and Pennsylvania. To add to this feeling, early
in February, 1782, a party of Indians from Sandusky, penetrated
the settlements, and committed numerous depredations.
Of the families that fell beneath the murderous stroke of these
savages was that of David Wallace, consisting of himself,
wife and six children, and a man named Carpenter. Of these
all were killed, except the latter, whom they took prisoner.
The early date of this visitation, induced the people at once
to believe that the depredators had wintered with the Moravians,
and the excited settlers uttered vengeance against those
who were supposed to have harbored them. An expedition
was at once determined upon, and about the first of March a
body of eighty or ninety men, chiefly from the Monongahela,[71]
rendezvoused at the old Mingo towns, on Mingo Bottom, now
Jefferson county, Ohio. Each man furnished himself with
his own arms, ammunition and provision. Many of them had
horses. The second day's march brought them within one
mile of the middle Moravian town, and they encamped for
the night. In the morning the men were divided into two
equal parties, one of which was to cross the river about a mile
above the town, their videttes having reported that there were
Indians on both sides of the river. The other party was
divided into three divisions, one of which was to take a circuit
in the woods, and reach the river, a little distance below the
town, on the east side. Another division was to fall into the
middle of the town, and the third at its upper end.

The victims received warning of their danger, but took no
measures to escape, believing they had nothing to fear from
the Americans, but supposed the only quarter from which
they had grounds for apprehending injury, was from those
Indians who were the enemies of the Americans.

When the party designed to make the attack on the west
side, had reached the river, they found no craft to take them
over; but something like a canoe was seen on the opposite
bank. The river was high with some floating ice. A young
man by the name of Slaughter swam the river, and brought
over not a canoe, but a trough, designed for holding sugar
water. This trough could carry but two men at a time. In
order to expedite their passage, a number of men stripped off
their clothes, put them into the trough, together with their
guns, and swam by its sides, holding its edges with their
hands. When about sixteen had crossed the river, their two
sentinels, who had been posted in advance, discovered an
Indian, whose name was Shabosh, whom they shot and scalped.

By this time, about sixteen men had got over the river,
and supposing that the firing of the guns which killed Shabosh,
would lead to an instant discovery, they sent word to the
party designed to attack the town on the east side of the
river, to move on instantly; which they did.

In the mean time, the small party which had crossed the
river, marched with all speed, to the main town on the west
side of the river. Here they found a large company of Indians
gathering the corn, which they had left in their fields the
preceding fall, when they removed to Sandusky.[72] —On the

arrival of the men at the town, they professed peace and
goodwill to the Moravians, and informed them that they had
come to take them to Fort Pitt, for their safety. The Indians
surrendered, delivered up their arms, even their hatchets, on
being promised that every thing should be restored to them
on their arrival at Pittsburgh. The murderers then went to
Salem, and persuaded the Indians there to go with them to
Gnadenhutten, the inhabitants of which, in the mean time,
had been attacked and driven together, and bound without
resistance; and when those from Salem were about entering
the town, they were likewise deprived of their arms and
bound.

The prisoners being thus secured, a council of war was held
to decide on their fate. The officers, unwilling to take on
themselves the whole responsibility of the awful decision,
agreed to refer the question to the whole number of the men.
The men were accordingly drawn up in a line.—The commandant
of the party, Col. David Williamson,[73] then put the
question to them in form, "Whether the Moravian Indians
should be taken prisoners to Pittsburgh, or put to death; and
requested that all those who were in favor of saving their
lives should step out of the line, and form a second rank?"
On this sixteen, some say eighteen, stepped out of the rank,
and formed themselves into a second line. But, alas! this
line of mercy was far too short for that of vengeance.

Most of those opposed to this diabolical resolution protested
in the name of high Heaven against the atrocious act, and
called God to witness that they were innocent of the blood of
those inoffensive people; yet the majority remained unmoved,

and some of them were even in favor of burning them alive.
But it was at length decided that they should be scalped in
cold blood, and the Indians were told to prepare for their
fate, that, as they were Christians, they might die in a Christian
manner. After the first burst of horror was over, they
patiently suffered themselves to be led into buildings, in one
of which the men, and in the other, the women and children
were confined, like sheep for slaughter. They passed the night
in praying, exhorting each other to remain faithful, asking
pardon from each other for any offences they had committed,
and singing hymns of praise to God.

From the time they had been placed in the guard-house,
the unfortunate prisoners foresaw their fate, and commenced
singing, praying, and exhorting one another to place their
faith in the Saviour of men.

The particulars of this catastrophe are too horrid to relate.
When the morning arrived, the murderers selected two houses,
which they named slaughter-houses—one for the women and
children. The victims were then bound, two and two together,
and led into the slaughter-houses, where they were scalped
and murdered.

The number of the slain, as reported by the men on their
return from the campaign, was eighty-seven or eighty-nine;
but the Moravian account, which no doubt is correct, makes
the number ninety-six. Of these, sixty-two were grown
persons, one-third of whom were women, the remaining thirty-four
were children. All these, with a few exceptions, were
killed in the houses.

A few men, who were supposed to be warriors, were tied
and taken some distance from the slaughter-houses, to be
tomahawked.

Of the whole number of the Indians at Gnadenhutten and
Salem, only two made their escape. These were two lads of
fourteen or fifteen years of age. One of them escaped through
a window on the night previous to the massacre, and concealed
himself in the cellar of the house to which the women and

children were brought next day to be murdered, whose blood
he saw running in streams through the floor. On the following
night he left the cellar, into which, fortunately, no one came,
and got into the woods. The other youth received one blow
upon his head, and was left for dead.

The Indians of the upper town, were apprized of their
danger in due time to make their escape, two of them having
found the mangled body of Shabosh. Providentially they all
made their escape, although they might have been easily
overtaken by the party, if they had undertaken their pursuit.
A division of the men were ordered to go to Schönbrunn, but
finding the place deserted, they took what plunder they could
find, and returned to their companions without looking farther
after the Indians.

After the work of death had been finished, and the plunder
secured, all the buildings in the town were set on fire, including
the slaughter-houses. A rapid retreat to the settlement
concluded this deplorable campaign. It was, certainly, one
of the most horrible affairs ever undertaken in this country,
and is revolting to every feeling of the human heart. It
must stand a record of infamy as long as time exists.

Doddridge, whose views, in part, we have embodied in a
portion of this account, says:

"In justice to the memory of Col. Williamson, I have to
say, that although at that time very young, I was personally
acquainted with him, and from my recollection of his conversation,
I say with confidence that he was a brave man, but
not cruel. He would meet an enemy in battle, and fight like
a soldier; but not murder a prisoner. Had he possessed the
authority of a superior officer in a regular army, I do not
believe that a single Moravian Indian would have lost his
life; but he possessed no such authority. He was only a
militia officer, who could advise, but not command. His only
fault was that of too easy a compliance with popular opinion
and popular prejudice. On this account his memory has been
loaded with unmerited reproach.

Should it be asked what sort of people composed the band
of murderers of these unfortunate people? I answer,—They
were not miscreants or vagabonds; many of them were men
of the first standing in the country. Many of them had
recently lost relations by the hands of the savages, and were
burning for revenge. They cared little upon whom they
wreaked their vengeance, so they were Indians.

When attacked by our people, although they might have
defended themselves, they did not. They never fired a single
shot. They were prisoners and had been promised protection.
Every dictate of justice and humanity required that their
lives should be spared. The complaint of their villages being
"Half-way houses for the warriors" was at an end, as they
had been removed to Sandusky the fall before. It was
therefore an atrocious and unqualified murder. But by whom
committed? By a majority of the campaign? For the honor
of my country, I hope I may safely answer this question in
the negative. It was one of those convulsions of the moral
state of society, in which the voice of the justice and humanity
of a majority is silenced by the clamor and violence of a
lawless minority. Very few of our men imbrued their hands
in the blood of the Moravians. Even those who had not voted
for saving their lives, retired from the scene of slaughter with
horror and disgust. Why then did they not give their votes
in their favor? The fear of public indignation restrained
them from doing so. They thought well, but had not heroism
enough to express their opinion. Those who did so, deserve
honorable mention for their intrepidity. So far as it may
hereafter be in my power, this honor shall be done them.
While the names of the murderers shall not stain the pages
of history, from my pen at least."