ground, without a reconnoitring party in front, and without rangers upon his flanks; a thing the more surprising, as he could not have been ignorant how liable he was to ambuscades from the nature of the country, and the singular adroitness of the savages in that mode of war. These barbarians soon found occasion to give him a sanguinary proof of it. They concealed themselves with a detachment of regulars in the woods near the road by which the Americans approached. The moment the columu had passed, they suddenly fell upon the rear guard with inconceivable fury. After the first fire the Indians rushed on with their spears and hatchets, and killed with the same cruelty those who resisted and those who surrendered. The disorder became extreme; the carnage was frightful; and even the horrible aspect of the principal actors, contributed to heighten the terrors of the scene. The republicans, however, recovered from their first surprise, and forming themselves into a solid column, attained an advantageous ground, which enabled them to maintain a spirited resistance. They would, nevertheless, have been overborne by the number and fury of the enemy, if the intelligence of the attack upon his camp by colonel Willet had not induced him See + to retire. Four hundred Americans were slain, and among them general Harkimer. Many of the most distinguished men of the Cgeneral province, and several of the most considerable magistrates shared the same fate. The royalists looked upon this success as a sure cy pledge of the approaching reduction of the rebels. Their victory, .82 however, was not bought without blood; besides a certain number Stone's of regulars, about sixty Indians were killed and wounded, among Life whom were several of their principal chiefs, and of their most disBrunt, tinguished and favorite warriors. It appears also, that in the heat and confusion of the conflict, several savages were killed by the English themselves. Thus, these intractable and undisciplined barbarians, by nature ferocious, and inclined to suspicion, irritated at finding a resistance to which they had not been accustomed, became still more refractory and still more ruthless. They wreaked the first transports of their rage upon the unhappy prisoners, whom they inhumanly butchered in cold blood. Submission to European officers became insupportable to them, and they refused to obey. It was now perceived, that their presence was more prejudicial, and even more dangerous, than useful to the British army.

Meanwhile, colonel Willet had conducted his sally with great spirit and ability. He entered the enemy's camp at the first onset, killed a great number of his men, and drove the rest into the woods or into the river. But his sole object being to make a diversion in favor of Harkimer, as soon as he had accomplished it, he returned into the fort, carrying with him in triumph the spoil and besieging utensils that he had taken from the enemy. The English were desirous of intercepting his retreat, and had prepared an ambuscade for the pur

pose; but his vigilance eluded the danger; he kept the assailants at a distance by a violent fire of musketry, and of artillery with grapeshot. He led back his whole corps without loss, and raised a trophy composed of the conquered arms and baggage under the American standard, which waved upon the walls of the fortress. He afterwards undertook, in company with another officer, named Stockwell, a much more perilous expedition. They passed by night through the English camp, and in contempt of the danger and cruelty of the savages made their way for fifty miles through pathless woods and unexplored morasses, in order to raise the country and bring relief to the fort; an action so magnanimous it is impossible to commend too much.

Colonel St. Leger left no means untried to profit of his victory, by intimidating the garrison. He sent verbal and written messages, stating their hopeless situation, the utter destruction of their friends, the impossibility of their obtaining relief, as general Burgoyne, after destroying every thing in his way, was now at Albany, receiving the submission of all the adjoining countries. After prodigiously magnifying his own force, as well as that of Burgoyne, he promised the Americans, that, in case of an immediate surrender, they should be treated according to the practice of civilised nations; at the same time he declared, that if, through an incorrigible obstinacy, they should continue a hopeless and fruitless defence, not only the soldiers would fall victims to the fury of the savages, but that, however against his will, every man, woman, and child, in the Mohawk country, would be massacred and scalped without mercy.

Colonel Gansevort replied with great firmness, that he had been entrusted with the charge of that garrison by the United States of America; that he should defend the trust committed to his care at every hazard, and to the utmost extremity; and that he neither thought himself accountable for, nor should he at all concern himself about any consequences that attended the discharge of his duty. He had very judiciously conjectured, that if the force of the British commander had been sufficient, he would have made a more simple summons, or would have attacked the fort immediately, without wasting his time in drawing up so extraordinary a bravado. The British commander, finding that neither ambushes nor threats could effect his purpose, turned all his thoughts upon a regular siege. But he was not long in perceiving that the fort was stronger, and much better defended, than it had been reported. He also found by experience, that his artillery was not sufficient in weight to make much impression at a certain distance. The only remedy was, to bring his approaches so near that they must take effect; which he set about with the greatest diligence. But the savages, from the dissatisfaction they felt at their late losses, and from the disappointment of their hopes of plunder, became every day more sullen and ungovern

able. The English commander was in continual apprehension that they would pillage his camp, and abandon the British standard. In this disagreeable situation, he was informed that general Arnold was rapidly approaching, at the head of a strong detachment, to relieve the fort. It appears that general Schuyler, upon intelligence that the fort which had taken his name, was besieged, had despatched Arnold to its succour, with a brigade of regular troops commanded by general Larned, which was afterwards reenforced by a thousand light infantry detached by general Gates. Arnold had advanced with his usual celerity up the Mohawk river, but before he had got half way, having learnt that Gansevort was hard pushed by the enemy, and knowing all the importance of expedition, he quitted the main body, and with a light armed detachment of only nine hundred men, set forward by forced marches towards the fortress. The Indians, who were incessantly upon the lookout, were soon informed of his approach, either by their own scouts, or by the spies that were despatched by Arnold himself, who prodigiously exaggerated his strength. At the name of Arnold, and in their present temper, they were seized with terror and dismay. Other scouts arrived immediately after with a report, which probably grew out of the affair of Bennington, that Burgoyne's army was entirely cut to pieces. They would now stay no longer, and assembled tumultuously, intending to abandon the camp. Colonel St. Leger endeavored to dissipate their terrors and detain them, by promising to lead them himself, to bring all his best troops into action, and by carrying their leaders out to mark a field of battle, and the flattery of consulting them upon the intended plan of operation. Finally, the British commander called a council of their chiefs, hoping, that by the influence which colonel Johnson, and the superintendents Claus and Butler had over them, they might still be induced to make a stand. He was disappointed. A part of the savages decamped whilst the council was sitting, and the remainder threatened peremptorily to abandon him if he did not immediately retreat. The English were forced to comply with their demands. They raised the siege the twenty-second of August, and retreated, or rather fled, towards Lake Oneida. Their tents, artillery, and stores, fell into the hands of the enemy; who, issuing from the fort, assailed their rear guard, and treated it very roughly. But the British troops were exposed to greater danger from the fury of their savage allies, than even from the pursuit of the republicans. During the retreat, they robbed the officers of their baggage, and the army in general of their provisions. Not content with this, they first stripped of their arms, and afterwards murdered with their own bayonets, all those who, from an inability to keep up, fear, or any other cause, were separated from the main body. It would be in vain to attempt a description of the confusion, the terror, and all the miseries which attended this discomfiture of the royal troops. They

arrived, however, at length, upon the lake, where they found some repose. St. Leger returned to Montreal, and afterwards passed to Ticonderoga, on his way to join Burgoyne. Arnold arrived at the fort in the evening of the twenty-fourth, two days after the siege had been raised; he and his soldiers were welcomed by the garrison, with the acknowledgment of deliverance, and the exultation of victory.

By the affairs of Bennington, and this of Fort Schuyler, it appeared that fortune began to smile upon the cause of the Americans. These successes produced the more happy effect upon their minds, the more they were unexpected; for since the fatal stroke which deprived them of Montgomery, they had found this war of Canada but one continued series of disasters. Their late discouragement and timidity, were instantly converted into confidence and ardor. The English, on the contrary, could not witness without apprehension, the extinction of those brilliant hopes, which, from their first advantages, they had been led to entertain.

Thus the face of things had experienced a total change; and this army, of late the object of so much terror for the Americans, was now looked upon as a prey which could not escape them. The ex

ploit of Bennington, in particular, had inspired the militia with great confidence in themselves; since they had not only combated, but repulsed and vanquished, the regular troops of the royal army, both English and German.

They began now to forget all distinctions between themselves and troops of the line, and the latter made new exertions and more strenuous efforts to maintain their established reputation for superiority over the militia. Having lost all hope of seizing the magazines at Bennington, general Burgoyne experienced anew the most alarming scarcity of provisions. But on the other hand, the successes of the Americans under the walls of Fort Schuyler, besides having inspirited the militia, produced also this other happy effect, that of enabling them, now liberated from the fear of invasion in the country upon the Mohawk, to unite all their forces on the banks of the Hudson against the army of Burgoyne. The country people took arms in multitudes, and hastened to the camp. The moment was favorable; the harvests were ended, and the arrival of general Gates to take the command of the army, gave a new spur to their alacrity. This officer enjoyed the entire esteem and confidence of the Americans; his name alone was considered among them as the presage of success. The Congress, in their sitting of the fourth of August, had appointed him to the command of the army of the north, while affairs still wore the most lowering aspect; but he had not arrived at Stillwater till the twenty-first.

General Schuyler was promptly apprised that a successor had been given him; but this good citizen had continued until the arrival of

VOL. II.

5

Gates to exert all his energies to repair the evil. Already, as we have seen, his efforts had not been fruitless, and victory inclined in He bitterly complained to Washington, that the course of his fortune was interrupted, and that the fruit of his toils was given to another, who was about to enjoy that victory for which he had prepared the way. But the Congress preferred to place at the head of an army, dismayed by its reverses, a general celebrated for his achievements. Moreover they were not ignorant that if Schuyler was agreeable to the New Yorkers, he was nevertheless in great disrepute with the people of Massachusetts, and the other provinces of New England.

This necessarily counteracted that alacrity with which it was desired that the militia from that quarter should hasten to reenforce the army of the north, which was then encamped in the islands situated at the confluence of the Mohawk with the Hudson.

Another and very powerful cause contributed to excite the mass of the Americans to rise against the English army, which was the cruelties committed by the savages under St. Leger and Burgoyne, who spared neither age nor sex nor opinions. The friends of the royal cause, as well as its enemies, were equally victims to their indiscriminate rage. The people abhorred and execrated an army, which consented to act with such ferocious auxiliaries. Though too true, their deeds of barbarity were aggravated by the writers and orators of the patriot party, which carried the exasperation of minds to its utmost height. They related, among others, an event, which drew tears from every eye, and might furnish, if not too horrible, an affecting subject for the dramatic art.

A young lady, by the name of M'Crea, as distinguished for her virtues as for the beauty of her person and the gentleness of her manners, of respectable family, and recently affianced to a British officer, was seized by the savages in her father's house, near Fort Edward, dragged into the woods, with several other young people of both sexes, and there barbarously scalped and afterwards murdered. Thus, this ill fated damsel, instead of being conducted to the hymeneal altar, received an inhuman death at the very hands of the companions in arms of that husband she was about to espouse. The recital of an atrocity so unexampled, struck every breast with horror, as well in Europe as America, and the authors of the Indian war were loaded with the bitterest maledictions.

The Americans represent the fact as it is stated above; other writers relate it differently. According to their account, young Jones, the British officer, fearing that some ill might betide the object of his love, as well in consequence of the obstinate attachment of her father to the royal cause, as because their mutual passion was already publicly talked of, had, by the promise of a large recompense, induced two Indians, of different tribes, to take her under their