USA > Pennsylvania > Lehigh County > Bethlehem > A history of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, 1741-1892, with some account of its founders and their early activity in America > Part 35
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Even some who had been sure that the Moravians were on terms of understanding with the French and the murderous savages, were open to conviction to the contrary, right in the panic of those days, when it was not easy to reason with excited men. The next day, Sunday, November 23, when in storm and rain, scores of families were fleeing from their homes between Bethlehem and Gnaden- huetten, and not only expressions of fear and distrust, but even maledictions were heard among persons gathered at Easton, who spoke of the Indians harbored by the Moravians, David Zeis- berger, who was at the county-seat in the interest of certain peace- able Indians of Wyoming who desired some kind of a safe conduct to Philadelphia to deliver a message to the Governor, rendered an opportune service. He had an interview there with a number of men from New Jersey, who were among those who had been firmly persuaded of the treachery of the Moravians and their Indians, and had been drawn to Easton by the publication of Horsfield's mes- sage to Parsons. Their comment upon his statements and explana- tions was: "This is the first sensible account of the case we have heard, and even if the Brethren will not take up arms they can secure their own lives (against mobs of avenging white men) by giving out reliable information." The policy of silence usually pursued by the Brethren mystified many. While, in the main, it was undoubtedly the best, it had its limits, and possibly they carried it too far. Plain, blunt men, such as those Jerseymen probably were, do not take kindly to an imperturbable silence when they are wanting to know the truth of a matter about which their minds are exercised. And yet, the sublime conviction that the case could best be left in the hands of God, for the results to work out and the truth to appear in His way, was vindicated in the end.
There was much anxiety at this time about that stout-hearted ranger of the missionary force, Frederick Post, who had been defy- ing "the powers of darkness" in his lonely hut in the Wyoming wil- derness; for now it was known that in that region those powers were holding grim carnival, and no white man could live there. He knew, however, when the moment had come beyond which it would be sheer folly for him to remain. He had acquired much of the Indian instinct and method in his movements. Suddenly, when two strange Indians with questionable motives were endeavoring to find him, he had disappeared without a word to any one as to where he was going. This was all that was known about him at Bethlehem-
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reported from trustworthy sources-until November 22, when it was learned that he had safely reached Dansbury, the Brodhead settle- ment, where at this time Jasper Payne was stationed. Payne was the last who ministered in the little church built there under the special patronage of Justice Daniel Brodhead, who had died at Beth- lehem in July. It was dedicated May 19, 1753. Payne and Post, like so many people of the neighborhood, had to flee from the place in December and the little church was burned to the ground by the savages. Post reached Bethlehem on November 25.
In the afternoon of that dismal, rainy Sunday, November 23, upwards of seventy armed and mounted men from New Jersey sud- denly arrived at the Crown Inn, not for the purpose of destroying Bethlehem, as the talk of some had been shortly before, but to offer their services in defense of the place and of the Irish Settlement, as there might be need; very positive expectation of an intended attack by the savages having been awakened through the spread of Mack's letter beyond the Delaware. Justice Horsfield informed them that there was not thought to be any immediate peril at Beth- lehem, and officially arranged for them to remain at the Crown over night, in order to prevent the consternation that would be caused by their sudden appearance in the streets of Bethlehem. The nerves of invalids and of timid women were considered, and the greatest care was being taken to prevent all knowledge of the terrors of the time from reaching the children, both at Bethlehem and at Naza- reth.
November 24 was a day of noise and confusion such as had never been experienced at Bethlehem, with sights that seemed very strange in its quiet streets. All day armed men marched through from different parts of New Jersey and some of the lower neighbor- hoods of Pennsylvania, on horseback and afoot, with drums and flags, intending to scour the woods in the direction of Gnadenhuet- ten in search of hostile Indians. It was hoped that some detach- ments of the murderous hordes might be encountered and repulsed, and their further advance thus be checked. David Zeisberger, with the knowledge of the militia captains, mounted a horse and started for Gnadenhuetten ahead of the rangers, to deliver Horsfield's mes- sage to Mack in reference to the desired convoy to Bethlehem, to inform the Indian congregation of this expedition and instruct them to remain quietly in their houses, so that they would not be found outside in the woods and mistaken for savages. He was stopped on the way by a company of excited Irishmen, who took it for
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granted that he was bound for the hostile camps to give the alarm to the "French Indians" and frustrate the purpose of the militia- men, and thought that they had at last caught one of the Moravian traitors in the very act. Zeisberger's coolness and tact, which seemed never to forsake him in any emergency, together with that impressive power of conscious innocence which often turns the sen- timents, even of the most bitter and excited men, served him well, as it had before and later did in far more critical straits. He was finally permitted to ride on, but the detention involved great peril for the Indian congregation.
Evening was coming on when he reached the mission. Having delivered his letters to Mack, he immediately turned his course to the river, to cross before it became quite dark, intending to rest over night at the establishment on the Mahoning, on the other side, after delivering his messages there. He had heard gun-shots west of the river as he approached the mission, but did not suspect anything amiss, for, with squads of militia now traversing the woods and occasionally firing signals to other bands, this was not a particu- larly startling sound that day. Suddenly a piteous cry from the other shore came to the missionaries on the east side who had just taken leave of Zeisberger. Shebosh instantly pushed a canoe into the water and directly returned, bringing Joachim Sensemann and George Partsch, with the horrible tidings that the savages had fallen upon the settlement and, as they supposed, murdered the rest of the household. Then the rising flames began to light up the gloam- ing with a sickening evidence of the fiendish work that was being done. Zeisberger had meanwhile slowly made his way to the ford, and was crossing the stream. The nearer noise of the splashing water and the crack of the stones under his horse's hoofs prevented him from hearing the shooting and yelling of the savages, broken by the thick underbrush of the river-bank and the bluff beyond, which also concealed from him the light of the starting flames. Mack called to him several times at the top of his voice, but did not succeed in attracting his attention until he had reached the other side. A moment he paused and with dismay took in the awful situ- ation, just as young Joseph Sturgis, who had escaped with a slight wound on his face, rushed gasping down to the river. Turning about, he forded back to the east side. There a consultation was held in the anxious suspense of the hour. The Indians, who gath- ered about Martin Mack in terror asking what they should do-
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many of the younger men were yet off on their fall hunt-were advised by him to quietly disperse and conceal themselves in the thick woods; for it was taken for granted that an attack upon the buildings on that side would soon follow. Sturgis had slipped away into the forest.
Zeisberger gathered what particulars could be given him by Sen- semann and Partsch, and, with these and Mack's official message, set out in the darkness to make his way with all the speed his tired horse could command, back to Bethlehem. His dreary midnight ride was broken by a brief interview with some of the militia rangers of the previous day whom he met on the road. He told them what had taken place, and their first impression was expressed in the declaration that this appalling fate of the Moravians at Gnadenhuetten proved their innocence of com- plicity with the savages in the interest of the French. Thus he could carry back, with his tale of woe, also the first evidence of good to come out of this great evil. He had not many details to report. The household of sixteen persons, fifteen adults and one infant, excepting two who were not well-Sense- mann's wife, who had remained in the room set apart for the women, and Peter Worbas, single, who was in another building in which the unmarried men had their quarters-were gathered at the table in the general dwelling and guest-house, partaking of their evening meal. The barking of the dogs and a sound as of persons approach- ing the premises, led Sensemann, who was steward, to go out for the purpose of locking the doors of the main building in which the chapel was, and making things secure for the night. He saw 110 one, and entered the building. Hardly had he struck a light, when he heard a loud report of firearms. He, like Zeisberger, thought the shooting was done by a company of militia who had passed sev- eral hours before, and were expected back to spend the night there, and paid no attention to it. Having locked the door, he started to return to where the others were, when he was met by Partsch, who announced that Indians had rushed upon the house and were shoot- ing at the inmates, and that he had escaped through a window. Sensemann proposed that they make an effort to rescue the women, and they turned towards the house, but it was entirely surrounded by the savage troop and they, being unarmed, could do nothing more than make their escape and sound an alarm at the mission, east of the Lehigh. The setting fire to the house followed after they fled and the presumption with which Zeisberger started for Bethle-
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hem was that all, excepting these two men and young Joseph Stur- gis, whom he had seen, had perished by the bullets or tomahawks of the murderers or in the flames. At three o'clock on the morning of the 25th he reached Bethlehem, aroused Bishop Spangenberg and told him the horrible story. Whether any others were immediately informed of it does not appear in the narratives. A messenger was sent to Parsons at Easton about two hours later.
In the early dawn of that sad November morning the people of Bethlehem were summoned, by the ringing of the bell, to morning prayer as usual, this being the first thing each day. Spangenberg had, according to custom, opened the book of daily texts to see what the watchword of the day was, and he found a peculiar significance in it that gave him a starting-point from which to begin the service and the morning words to the people in the usual manner, prepara- tory to breaking the mournful news. "Joseph ... . made himself strange unto them and spake roughly unto them."2 And his breth- ren, not recognizing him under the temporary disguise of this harsh exterior, said to Jacob their father, "the man spake roughly unto us." Thus, said Spangenberg, our Lord sometimes deals roughly with us and makes Himself strange, but we know His heart.3 A pecu- liar impression was felt-an apprehension of something momentous- as he looked about the congregation, and his voice quivered with pent-up emotion. Then the announcement of the tragedy was made and tearful supplications went up to the darkly veiled throne of grace. Many a one's early meal was left untouched in Bethlehem that morn- ing, and the day was one of mourning. Another thing Spangenberg said at that morning service : "Our neighborhood can now see that the Brethren are not allied with the French, for we have been in such danger for several days of being fallen upon by a mob that they have quite openly said, 'before we move upon the enemy, we must not leave one stone upon another in Bethlehem.' The Justice, our Brother Horsfield, has been a real martyr, for he could not convince all of the people that our remaining so quiet in the midst of the tumult that fills the whole land did not signify that we had an under- standing with the French."
Those slain on the Mahoning were verily martyrs, destined, in the mysterious ways of God, who made Himself strange unto them and spake roughly unto them," to bear the con-
2 Genesis 42 : 7 and 30.
3 " Der Mann stellt sich hart, aber wir kennen sein Herz." This last clause was the line of a hymn-verse accompanying the text in the book.
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victing testimony to men who refused to be convinced by lesser proof. In some sense and degree, their blood was vicarious blood. It had to wash out the cruel calumny which excited preju- dice, incapable of understanding the Moravians, persisted in writing on the bulletin board of public sensation, and it became the sprinkled blood on the lintels and door-posts of Bethlehem to stay the destroy- ing hand of men, maddened by the fiendish atrocities perpetrated upon their homes, who might otherwise have taken vengeance upon the Moravians, as friends of the Indians. When the murderous hand of the savages was to be lifted against Bethlehem, God stayed that hand, for He had chosen the place as a city of refuge to which many who escaped might flee from the fields, where one was taken and another left. The most obtuse mind could be expected to compre- hend, when the massacre on the Mahoning became known, that the savages would not fall upon those who were secretly working with them, and murder them. They thus took revenge upon the Mora- vians for standing in their way with that settlement at the mountain gate-way, and foiling their attempts to secure the co-operation of those converts. After this, the repetition of the old slander-and, although common opinion among suspecting masses was suddenly and powerfully changed, it was repeated by some, even after this- could no longer be charitably ascribed to mere ignorance about the Moravians. It now became criminal malice.
In the course of the day, on that 25th of November, one after another arrived from the scene of carnage, like the messengers of Job coming in to tell of the ruin wrought where Satan's hand was permitted to fall. From one after the other, further particulars were learned. About seven o'clock the first fugitive arrived ; Peter Wor- bas, who at first had watched the horrible scenes from the room of the single men in another building. Although ill, he had trudged the long distance to Bethlehem afoot. He could not tell much more than was known. He saw one of the women flee to the cellar, out- side the house, and back into the "sisters' room," pursued by a savage with uplifted tomahawk. He heard the heart-rending screams of an infant amid the crackling of the flames. For some time he was a prisoner, a guard being posted at the door. A shout from the other savages diverting the attention of his guard, he leaped from the window towards the Mahoning and fled. On the way to Bethlehem he heard of the escape of Sturgis. Anton Schmidt and Marcus Kiefer, who, at Shamokin, had become veterans in fac- ing the dangers of savage surroundings, were soon dispatched to
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Gnadenhuetten to ascertain how matters stood there, and to take a message from Justice Horsfield to the militia gathered at that point, stating that provisions would be sent them if needed. Span- genberg, meanwhile, went to Nazareth to make the sorrowful announcement there, and institute the first steps towards guarding against a surprise by the savages. There, when he undertook to speak again of what had taken place, his composure forsook him. He broke down under the strain and for a while could only weep.
In the afternoon Sensemann came, bringing about thirty of the Gnadenhuetten Indians, all completely exhausted by their hard experiences. While making his way through the woods towards Bethlehem, he came upon this little band cowering in their place of concealment, and brought them along. All that Sensemann could relate was already known through Zeisberger.
Later in the day Martin Mack arrived with his wife, Grube and his wife, Schmick and Joseph Powell and his wife, who had been temporarily at the station on the east side, and more of the fugitive Indians. Mack was almost broken-hearted. Gnadenhuetten had been very dear to him. He had devoted himself to that mission from the beginning with all his heart, and he felt as a father towards the converts who were singularly attached to him. The colony of men and women who occupied the original buildings on the west side of the river had trusted his counsel and leadership when the time of peril came. He had encouraged them to stand quietly and manfully at their post. They had done so, and now they had fallen at that post, and he was spared. He was overwhelmed with sorrow. The entire Indian congregation of seventy persons gradually found their way to Bethlehem. Here they were sheltered in the "Indian house" and were cared for, regardless of the risk their presence might entail upon Bethlehem when the unreasoning excitement of some in whose eyes all Indians were alike, was stirred anew by the discovery that they were housed there. It put a strain even upon the confidence and good will of some of the Bethlehem people, under the poignant grief they felt for the awful fate that had befallen their brethren and sisters on the Mahoning ; all on account of Indians and at the hands of Indians; and under the growing dread of an attack upon Beth- lehem, which might the more quickly be provoked by the presence of these people whom the savages were now bent upon killing, since they could not entice them. It even became necessary for Span- genberg, a few weeks later, to plead with such openly, to not permit
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aversion and bitterness to possess their hearts towards these poor creatures snatched as a brand from the burning; the remaining fruit of many labors, prayers and tears.
In the afternoon of November 26, Partsch and his wife Susanna reached Bethlehem. It was not known whether he had escaped or not, after he and Sensemann parted, and his wife was supposed to be, of course, among the victims. Young Sturgis came with them. They brought the fullest details of the horrible massacre. After Sense- mann had gone out to lock the door, as related by him, the barking of the dogs increased and footsteps were heard about the house. Sturgis, followed by several of the other men, arose from the table and opened the door, supposing that the expected militia men were coming. There, before the door, stood some of the murderous savages, ready for the attack. Instantly they fired, and Martin Nitschmann fell dead, while a bullet grazed the face of Joseph Sturgis who was nearest to the door. Another volley quickly followed, and John Lesley, John Gattermeyer and Martin Presser fell. Presser, as was discovered some months later, was not instantly killed, but was able to creep from the house and find his way to the woods nearby, where he succumbed to his wound.+
Martin Nitschmann's wife, Susanna, was next wounded by a ball. She was seen to fall and her cry, "O brethren! brethren! help me!" was heard. That was the last then known of her, and it was supposed that she had perished by a tomahawk or in the flames. She was evidently dragged out of the house when the remaining inmates fled to the garret, and, as was afterwards learned, she was taken captive by the murderers.5
4 April 29, 1756, Stephen Blum, who had carried an order from the Governor to Captain Carl Volck, Commandant of Fort Allen, built where the New Gnadenhuetten of the Indians had been, on the east side of the river, the site of Weissport - Volck was a member of the Moravian congregation at Allemaengel-returned to Bethlehem and reported that the pre- vious week the soldiers had found a corpse in a dense thicket at the " sand spring," not scalped but shot in the right side, and that the man had died lying upon his back with his hands folded. The Captain had the body buried by the militia, and sang as a committal service the verse : Sein' Augen. Seinen Mund, Den Leib für uns verwund't, etc., (from the Easter Morning Litany). The body was identified by the clothing as that of Presser.
5 July 19, 1756, her fate was publicly announced at Bethlehem, when reliable information brought by Joachim, a baptized Indian, who had been up on the Susquehanna, confirmed previous reports. She was taken first to Wyoming by the savages, and almost perished from cold on the way. There several of the colony of baptized Indians, who had withdrawn the previous year from Gnadenhuetten, and were living there yet in the turmoil, recognized her
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Those who succeeded in reaching the dormitory in the garret closed and secured the trap-door, so that their pursuers could not force it open. This remnant of the household were Gottlieb Anders, his wife Johanna Christina and their infant daughter Johanna; Susanna Louisa, wife of George Partsch; Anna Catherine, wife of Joachim Sensemann; George Christian Fabricius, George Schweigert and Joseph Sturgis. Sensemann's wife sank down upon the edge of a bed and simply exclaimed, "Dear Saviour, this is what I expected !" The wife of Anders, with her wailing infant wrapped in her apron and clasped to her heart, expressed only a mother's anguish for her child. There they passed an awful quarter of an hour, listening to the yells of the savage troop and the shots fired at random through the window, the roof and the floor. One and another of the prisoners screamed for help at intervals, in the faint hope that rescuers might approach and hear that they were yet alive. Then there was a lull in the shooting ; the yells ceased for a brief space, and no one was seen by those who peered out of the garret window. For the moment the attention of the demons was absorbed in their final most fiendish plan. Soon the crackling of the flames told the victims what they might now expect. Sturgis seized this opportunity to leap from the window, landed safely and got away. Susanna Partsch immediately followed him and also escaped. The third and last to make the attempt was Fabricius, as appeared from the discoveries made the next day. The window was now again watched, and he did not escape. The remaining four with the little child evidently perished in the flames.
Susanna Partsch was unfamiliar with the surroundings, having been at the place a week only and did not know which way to take in the darkness. She secreted herself for some time behind a tree, at an elevated spot near the main building, where she could watch the movements of the murderers. She saw them set fire to one building after another; first the barn, then the kitchen and bakery, then the single men's dwelling, after that the store and last of all, with some difficulty, the main building containing the chapel-the Gemeinhaus.
as a Moravian sister. The first was Sarah, the wife of Abraham the Mohican, who threw up her hands in consternation when she saw her Another woman, Abigail, wife of Benja- min. was permitted to care for her wants in her own hut, until her brutal captor dragged her off to Tioga. There she passed her days in constant weeping and sank into a dazed con- dition of deep melancholy; Joachim saw her and spoke with her, and had definite infor- mation of her death at Tioga. The Indian who led the attack on the Mahoning and took possession of her as his prize, was killed in August, 1757, by another Indian under the: accusation of having acted as a French spy at the treaty in Easton.
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The store was first looted, then all eatables found in kitchen, bakery and spring-house were collected and the savages had a feast by the light of the conflagration. There were estimated to be about twelve of them. About midnight, as nearly as the trembling watcher could judge, they gathered up the plunder secured in the store and set out towards Wyoming. Then this almost distracted woman, left alone at the desolate place, made her way down to the river where she came to a large hollow tree within which she took refuge until daylight. when rescuers arrived.
Partsch had found his way during the night to a house in the Blue Mountains, where he fell in with Sturgis. Early in the morning they returned to the Mahoning with some rangers. He was nerved by a presentiment that his wife had escaped. When they got across the Lehigh, they suddenly came upon her, crouched in her place of concealment, almost benumbed with cold and fright. They went on to explore the scene of desolation. All the buildings were burned down, and the charred remains of some who had there perished could be seen but not distinguished. Outside, in the square, they came upon the body of Fabricius, pierced with bullets, scalped and mutilated, and watched over by the only living friend that remained at the spot, his dog. The savages, after finishing their atrocious work, left a blanket with a hat and a knife stuck through them on a stump, as a defiant warning of more of the like to follow. Exhausted and sickened, Partsch and his wife and Sturgis set out on their sorrowful journey to Bethlehem.
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