North Carolina's Tuscarora War, 1711-1715: The Indians Retaliate
An Execution Dance? John Lawson & Baron De Graffenried, canoe up the Neuse River & stumble upon the natives preparing for war. After a trial by the tribe, Lawson is tried & killed.
From the first, there had been an Indian problem in Bath County, North Carolina. While disease had broken the power of the Pampticough tribe in the neighborhood of Bath, there remained many other small tribes scattered throughout Bath County. Behind these small tribes lay the powerful Tuscarora, an Iroquoian tribe closely connected to the Five Nations in New York. The movement of settlers into Bath County and up the Pamlico and Neuse Rivers had been watched with fear and resentment by the Tuscarora and the smaller tribes in this area. Favorite hunting grounds were being overrun and choice village sites were becoming sites for the settlers' towns.
While the principal danger to the settlers from Indian attacks came from the many Tuscarora, the initial resistance the land-hungry European settlers of Bath County faced came from smaller tribes into whose territory they first moved. These native groups included the Core (sometimes called Coree) and Nynee Indians, who lived south of the Neuse River. In 1703 they were declared public enemies by the Carolina government, which was determined to carry on a war against them. While the records of this conflict are gone, the Indians evidently were defeated, for the next time they are mentioned in history, they have moved into the interior where the Tuscarora have granted them land only six miles from one of their chief towns.
During the first decade of the eighteenth century, rumors of Indian plots and conspiracies constantly spread throughout Bath County. In 1703, Lionel Reading wrote that an Indian had told one settler that several villages had "fully resolved to make trail (trial) of it for to see which is the ardiest." The next year word spread that some Tuscarora towns near the Pamlico settlement were becoming unusually friendly with the Bear River Indians, with the apparent intention of inciting them to attack the whites. About this same time the Machapunga Indians began to harass the settlers, making threats, stealing hogs, and even assaulting one settler. The settler did not fail to note that the Machapunga moved their village "nigh a wildnernesse where upon the least Intimation they can easily repair without being pursued."
Throughout this period the Bear River and Machapunga Indians continued to annoy the settlers and the settlers continued to petition the government for something to be done about the situation. In 1707, Robert Kingham reported that the settlers on the Pamlico told him that "they expected ye Indians every day to come and cutt their throat and yet they had no person to head ym [them] or Else they would goe and secure all ye Pamticough Indians."
Obviously, relations between the early white settlers and the Indians were not as harmonious as many historians have pictured. From the first, the Indians understandably resented the colonists' encroachment upon their land and used every means they had to show this resentment, at times resorting to out and out war. The Tuscarora, by all odds the dominant Indian power in North Carolina, had watched the settlers with distrust, seething over each movement into a new area. When the tide of European civilization flowed into the Pamlico-Neuse region, they saw the handwriting on the wall and decided they must make a stand or gradually be overrun. By the summer of 1711, the Tuscarora apparently decided to try to destroy the whites.
Other actions by the whites also caused the Indians to act. Perhaps nothing made them hate the settlers of Bath County more than the whites' kidnapping and enslavement of their people. By 1710, this practice had become so epidemic that the Tuscarora petitioned the government of Pennsylvania to settle in that colony so that their children born and those soon to be born might have room to sport and play without danger of slavery. In their quaint phrases, they begged "a cessation from murdering and taking them, that by the allowance thereof, they may not be afraid of a moose, or any other thing that Ruffles the Leaves."
Feeding this problem was ill-feeling and misunderstanding surrounding trade between Indians and the white settlers. The whites felt that the Indian traders were hard men who drove hard bargains. Conversely, the Indians soon saw that the whites were cheating them in their transactions, for the traders, John Lawson tells us, esteemed it "a Gift of Christianity not to sell to them so cheap as [they did] to the Christians." The traders, knowing the Indians' weakness for alcohol, often got the Indians drunk as a means of defrauding them of their property. One observer reports that the Indians were never "contented with a little, but when once begun, they must make themselves quite drunk; otherwise they will never rest, but sell all they have in the World, rather than not have their full dose."
Certainly another reason for the Indians' decision to take up the tomahawk was the indignities inflicted on them by the white settlers. The Indians were a proud and dignified people, unaccustomed to the condescending and insulting way the whites often treated them. Just a few days before they sought their revenge, the Indians complained to a settler who had been unfortunate enough to fall into their hands, that they "had been very badly treated and detained by the inhabitants of the Pamtego, Neuse and Trent Rivers, a thing which was not to be longer endured." That the whites, who looked upon the Indians "with Scorn and Disdain" and considered them "little better than Beasts in Human Shape," eventually felt their wrath cannot be too surprising.
During the summer of 1711, the inhabitants of North Carolina were far too plagued with rebellion, drought, and disease to observe the actions of the Indians closely. There had been one alarm during the summer when word spread that the followers of [Thomas] Cary were attempting to incite the Tuscarora to attack the followers of Governor Hyde. Both Cary and the Indians vehemently denied this and the incident was quickly forgotten.
While it is doubtful Cary or any of his followers invited the Indians to take to the warpath, doubtlessly the Indians saw the confusion the rebellion created. It was a good time for them to strike.
The Indians began their plotting in complete secrecy, and until the moment they struck, no hint of their plans reached the settlers. The chief leader in the conspiracy appears to have been King Hancock, chief of the Tuscarora town of Catechna. Acting with the chief men of the other tribes in the Pamlico-Neuse area, Hancock was able to persuade the Bay River, Machapunga, Neusiok, Coree Woccon, and Pampticough tribes to join in the plans. Together, these tribes could count a fighting force of about 250 men.
Hancock, himself, was able to furnish about 250 Tuscarora, although most of the Tuscarora under Chief Tom Blunt refused to join him. Plans called for the massacre of all settlers and the complete destruction of every plantation in Bath County. It was agreed among the conspirators that the attack would fall without warning at dawn on September 22, 1711.
The Death of John Lawson
As these plans were maturing, the ever adventurous John Lawson persuaded Christopher Von Graffenried, leader of the Swiss and Palatine colonists at New Bern, and Christopher Gale, receiver-general of the colony (his friend and neighbor at Bath), to accompany him on an exploring trip up the Neuse. At the last moment, Christopher Gale was forced to return to Bath, where his wife and brother had been stricken by yellow fever.
Around the 10th or 12th of September, despite Gale's withdrawal, Lawson and Von Graffenried set out up the Neuse by canoe, accompanied by two Negro slaves and two Indians from the neighborhood of New Bern. Around nightfall on the second or third day out, the small party was suddenly surrounded by a force of 60 armed Indians. The hostiles captured the explorers and carried them to nearby Catechna, Hancock's town and the center of the conspiracy.
Here they were brought before King Hancock, who ordered them held until a council could decide their fate. On the following night a great assembly, or war council, was held to which chiefs from many neighboring villages came. The two white men were given seats in the council ring, questioned as to the motive of their trip, and then (after much deliberation by the council) informed that they might go free on the morrow.
The next morning as Lawson and Von Graffenried were preparing to leave, some chiefs, who had not been at the council the night before, arrived and demanded to question the pair further. At this point Lawson became involved in a violent argument with Cor Tom, a chief of Coree Town long known for his unfriendly feeling toward the whites. Because of this quarrel, Lawson and Von Graffenried were seized, bound, and carried back to the council ring of the night before. There a second council hastily condemned the two white men to death.
That night a great execution dance was held. The prisoners were placed beside a large fire and a conjurer, or medicine man, began prancing before them muttering spells and threats. Behind this group stood two rows of armed guards. Around all danced the painted [Indians] whom Graffenried later described as looking "more like a troop of devils than like other creatures; if one represents the devil in the most terrible shape that can be thought of."
Meanwhile, Graffenried's threats of reprisals by the Queen of England if he were harmed had alarmed the Indians, so they asked Chief Tom Blunt regarding what to do. Blunt advised them to spare Von Graffenried, but do as they wished with Lawson. Acting upon this advice, the Catechna council decided that Von Graffenried might live, but Lawson must die. Graffenried was then led away from the terrible scene and imprisoned in a hut, being unable to make even a sign to the condemned Lawson, who throughout the ordeal had maintained a stoic silence.
While Graffenried was imprisoned within the hut, John Lawson — father of "that famous city of Bath" — was executed. The way in which Lawson was killed was kept from Von Graffenried, although he appears to think Lawson's throat was cut with a razor he had carried on the trip. One of the Negro slaves whose life had been spared reported that Lawson was hanged. Another account says Lawson was stuck full of small lightwood splinters and set gradually on fire, a method of execution that Lawson had described in great detail in his [published] history of Carolina.
Von Graffenried was told of the Indians' plans for their attack on the Bath County settlement. However, because the Indians kept him prisoner for several weeks, he was unable to warn the settlers of the planned massacre.
The Massacre Begins
Three or four days after Lawson's death, about five hundred fighting men gathered at Catechna. From this village they fanned out to attack the settlements on the Pamlico, Neuse, and Trent Rivers, and in the Core Sound region. These little groups filtered into the settlements in which they were well known and where their presence would not arouse suspicion. Here among the settlers who looked on many of them as family, the Indians awaited the fatal hour with what Christopher Gale described as "smiles in their countenances, when their intent was to destroy."
Daybreak on Saturday, September 22, was the signal for the attack. Simultaneously, the painted and befeathered warriors struck along the Neuse and Pamlico river systems. The Indians, dressed for war, were described as having a circle of black around one eye, and a circle of white around the other, designed to terrify their enemy and to keep their identity hidden.
Well armed with guns and ammunition, they made short work of those taken at the first surprise. Men, women, and children — regardless of age or condition — were killed . Houses were pillaged and burned, crops were trampled and destroyed, and livestock driven off or killed. Looting and killing, the Indians devastated Bath County, particularly around the head of the Neuse and along the south side of the Pamlico River.
Tradition states that the home of John Porter Jr., at the head of Chocowinity Bay on the Pamlico, was among the first houses attacked but that Porter and Dr. Patrick Maule (who was visiting him at the time) were able to beat off the Indians and escape with the women and children by boat. The Indians mutilated many of their victims.
The family of a Mr. Nevil, who probably resided near the mouth of Blounts Creek on the Pamlico River, was treated in a barbarous manner by the Indians. Mr. Nevil, "after being shot, was laid on the house-floor, with a clean pillow under his head, his stockings turned over his shoes, and his body covered with new linen. His wife was set upon her knees, and her hands lifted up as if she was at prayers, leaning against a chair in the chimney corner, and her coats turned up over her head. A son of his was laid out in the yard with a pillow laid under his head and a bunch of rosemary laid to his nose." Even the Negro slaves were not spared, for a slave belonging to Mr. Nevil was killed and his right hand cut off. The nearest neighbor of Nevil's was shot and his body laid upon his wife's grave. Christopher Gale remembered that "women were laid on the house floors and great stakes driven up through their bodies. Pregnant women had the unborn children ripped out and hung upon trees."
Amid such scenes of violence, the whites who survived the first onslaught fled their homes and gathered together at some reasonably defensible point. Bath Town, New Bern, and the Brice plantation on the Trent were soon filled with refugees. For about three days the Indians burned, plundered, and killed without hindrance from the survivors — who dared not to venture out to bury the dead, left prey for dogs, wolves, and vultures.
At last, loaded with plunder and prisoners, the Indians withdrew to their towns. They had killed some 130 or 140 people and left many others badly wounded. They also took some 20 or 30 prisoners.
The Swiss and Palatine losses were the heaviest. They accounted for about 60 or 70 of those slain in the massacre. The town of New Bern was spared by the Indians (from whom Von Graffenried had secured a promise not to harm the village). The prisoners were women and children who, having seen their families butchered before their eyes, were carried back to the villages to serve the Indians as slaves.
From stricken Bath County messengers raced to the Albemarle requesting immediate help. Albemarle County had emerged unscathed from the massacre, saved by a portion of the Tuscarora remaining neutral. Royal Governor Edward Hyde immediately sent messengers to Virginia and South Carolina requesting aid, and began to gather a force to be sent to the beleaguered and stunned settlers on the Pamlico and Neuse rivers. The Quakers, who formed a large part of the population of Albemarle County, refused to bear arms, and the ill will Cary's Rebellion had caused hampered North Carolina's efforts throughout the entire Indian war.
In the Pamlico and Neuse area the plantations were generally abandoned for a few more easily defended points. Probably the larger refugee center was the town of Bath, where there were reported to be over 300 widows and orphans in pitiful condition. While records are vague, it appears that Bath was not overrun at the time of the massacre soit is unlikely that many were killed within the limits of the town. A fort, located on high ground in the center of the Bath peninsula, appears to have been hastily built to shelter the citizens and refugees.
The furthest westward garrison on the Pamlico was located at the Lionel Reading plantation, on the south side of the river, across from the mouth of Chocowinity Bay. Some settlers having survived the massacre, attempted to fortify their homes and remain, but these isolated plantations fell one by one to the Indians, who leisurely picked them off. Elsewhere on the Neuse and in the Core Sound area, forts were established and by October, a total of eleven garrisons had been thrown up in Bath County.
Resistance
By mid-October, plans for a counterattack on the Indians had been completed. Thomas Pollock of Chowan Precinct, as major-general of the North Carolina forces, had managed to raise 150 men to undertake the assault. This force was sent to Bath Town, ordered to join forces with a group that had been raised on the Neuse and commanded by Captain William Brice. Brice, under orders from Pollock, marched his company of 50 or 60 men up the Neuse to an abandoned Indian village, where the forces at Bath were to join him. The troops at Bath, however, refused to go out, and Brice found himself in Indian country with no support.
Despite the lack of support from Bath, Brice continued to advance into Indian territory until overwhelmed by at least 300 warriors. He was forced to fall back to his fortified plantation on the Trent River.
Here matters stood while aid from neighboring colonies was awaited. Virginia, despite promises and much talk, never dispatched a single soldier to North Carolina. Governor Alexander Spotswood of Virginia eventually sent a small amount of powder and cloth to North Carolina. Efforts were also made by the Virginia government to keep the neutral Tuscarora under Tom Blunt out of the war, and to turn them against their fellow tribesmen.
Help Arrives — The Barnwell Expedition
It was from South Carolina that effective aid finally came. An expedition was quickly sent from that colony, led by Captain John Barnwell and composed of 33 whites on horses and 495 allied Indians. This force marched through the North Carolina interior, and on January 29, 1712, reached the Neuse River far above New Bern. Attempting to surprise the Tuscarora town of Narhantes, Barnwell found the Indians had been warned about him and were barricaded in nine small forts. Barnwell at once attacked the largest of these, killing 52 and taking 30 prisoners.
Barnwell then advanced through the Tuscarora heartland, burning towns and destroying crops. Eventually deserted by many of his Indian allies, Barnwell decided to contact the North Carolina settlements before attempting to take King Hancock's town, Catechna. He began moving toward the Pamlico and Bath Town.
On February 6, Barnwell reached the Pamlico River some five miles below Uncouh-He-runt, one of three Tuscarora towns on that river. During the crossing, Barnwell's rear was attacked by 50 or 60 Tuscarora, who were soon fought off. Barnwell's force, now down to 25 white men and 178 Indians, then moved down the north shore of the Pamlico, "passing well ruined English plantations" and crosoing the many broad creeks found here.
On February 10, Barnwell sent out a patrol that reached Bath Town, and the next day the entire force was transported there. The joyous reception given Barnwell's men brought tears to the eyes of the rough South Carolinians.
Barnwell's force remained on the Pamlico from February 11-27, awaiting supplies and men. On February 26, Barnwell was joined by 67 North Carolinians, most of whom had no ammunition. Consequently, Barnwell stripped the Pamlico garrisons of their powder. On February 27, the South Carolina commander left Fort Reading on the Pamlico and began to advance on Hancock's fort a short distance above Catechna, on the Contentnea Creek's west bank.
When he at last attacked the fort, he found it contained many white captives whom the Indians at once began to torture, and whose pleas and cries could be heard by the besiegers. Many in the attacking force had relatives within the fort, and they begged Barnwell to negotiate with the Indians for their release. Barnwell began parlaying with the Indians, who agreed to release the twelve prisoners within the fort if Barnwell would withdraw. He agreed to this and the Indians promised to meet him on March 19, at Batchelours Creek near New Bern to discuss terms.
Barnwell withdrew but the Indians failed to keep their promised March 19th rendezvous. He then established a garrison at Qurhous on the south side of the Pamlico, across from Bath Town, to keep open land communication between the Pamlico and the Neuse. Barnwell also planned a second attack on Hancock's fort.
After building a fort of his own (Ft. Barnwell) on the Neuse some 30 miles above New Bern, Barnwell surrounded Hancock's fort on April 7, 1712, with 153 white men and 128 Indians. A ten-day siege followed, which ended with the surrender of the fort on rather generous terms, requiring that only King Hancock and three other Indians be delivered up and several lesser articles of surrender be carried out.
The failure of Barnwell to destroy the Indians caused him to be censured by the North Carolina government. Despairing of a generous reward for his efforts to aid North Carolina, Barnwell seized some of the surrendered Indians for slaves and returned to South Carolina. This violation of the surrender terms enraged the Indians who began to attack along the Neuse and Pamlico. The war flamed up again in all its fury.
The Death of Governor Hyde
Governor Hyde then determined to gather the militia of Albemarle County and march into Bath County. He declared it was his intention to establish his headquarters at Bath Town and on the Neuse and there "end the war with honor or make such a peace as shall not reflect upon the British Glory." This was not to be, however, for yellow fever — which added its horrors to the dreadful summer of 1712 in North Carolina — claimed Governor Hyde on September 9, 1712. After his death, Thomas Pollock assumed the leadership of North Carolina as president of the council and commander-in- chief of the government.
The Moore Expedition and the Fall of Fort Neoheroka
Pollock made every effort to supply the garrisons in Bath County and maintain the small forces operating there. Meanwhile, South Carolina had assembled a new force to further aidNorth Carolina. These troops included 33 white men and nearly 900 Indians under the command of Col. James Moore. Early in December 1712, Moore arrived at Ft. Barnwell on the Neuse, which was low on supplies. He then moved down the river to New Bern and on to the fortified town of Bath. Finding no supplies at Bath, Moore then marched into Albemarle County where the harassed North Carolina government attempted to feed the more than 900 men.
Every effort was made by Pollock to prepare the exhausted colony for a final attack on the Indians. With everything ready, Moore moved out of Albemarle County on January 17, 1713. Extremely bad weather and an unusually deep snow forced Moore to halt at Ft. Reading on the Pamlico until February 4, when he continued his march on the Tuscarora towns.
The chief Tuscarora stronghold was now Ft. Neoheroka located a few miles above old Ft. Hancock on Contentnea Creek. About March 1, 1713, Moore laid siege to this well-protected log and earth fort with a force of over 1,000 whites and Indians. On March 20, the final attack was launched, but it was not until March 23 that the last resistance was crushed. The victory was complete and crushed forever the power of the Tuscarora nation.
In the battle, the Tuscarora lost at least 392 killed and burned within the fort and 166 killed or captured outside the fort. In addition, the attackers captured 392 of the Indian defenders, making the total loss of the Tuscarora 950 men, women, and children killed or captured. The remaining hostile Tuscarora abandoned their other strongholds and fled deep into the interior toward the Virginia border, most of them eventually going to New York where they joined the Five Nations.
The war was not over, however, for at the same time Moore was attacking Ft. Neoheroka, the Machapunga and Coree had been striking at settlements along the Pungo River, a short distance below Bath, and in the vicinity of Mackays. After the fall of Neoheroka, Pollock decided to stamp out this resistance immediately and requested Moore to send some of his Indians into the Pamlico area to hunt them down.
Moore gathered the 120 or 130 Indians who had not returned to South Carolina and marched to the Pamlico where, in June 1713, he attempted to crush these remaining hostiles. He was only partially successful, for as one contemporary account states, the trackless wilderness from which these Indians operated lay "between Matchapungo River and Roanoke Island which is about 100 miles in length and of considerable breadth, all in a manner lakes, quagmires, and cane swamps, and is . . . one of the greatest deserts in the world, where it is almost impossible for white men to follow them." After Moore's swamp campaign, matters quieted down for several months and about September 1, 1713, Colonel Moore returned to South Carolina.
By the spring of 1714, one or two small bands of Indians were once more terrorizing the Bath County plantations. One account describing their activities explained that "they rove from place to place cut off two or three families today and within two or three days do the like a hundred miles off from the former. They are like deer — there is no finding them." Throughout 1714, Bath County was kept in a constant turmoil and Ft. Reading on the Pamlico, along with other strategic points, remained garrisoned by a force of whites and Indians.
The War Ends
Not until February 11, 1715, did these groups of hostiles sign a peace treaty with the North Carolina government, and agree to accept settle on a reservation in Hyde County near Lake Mattamuskeet. With this treaty the war came to an end, and the citizens of Bath County and Bath Town were free once more to follow the pursuits of peace. The war's cost in lives and property were incalculable. The Indians had exacted their revenge for real or fancied wrongs in full measure.
As the Tuscarora War came to its sad end, a normal way of life gradually returned to Bath and its vicinity. The town's swollen population gradually dispersed as settlers returned to their burned plantation homes and weed-choked fields, and as orphans and widows found refuge with relatives and friends. Forts, garrisons, and sentry duty no longer lost their importance.
To many, however, Bath County appeared finished. A frontier region, poor before the Tuscarora War, now lay completely devastated, with many of her leaders victims of war and disease. Yet, the last of the hostile Indians had not surrendered when the work of rebuilding got under way.
Edited and adapted from: A History of Colonial Bath, by Herbert R. Paschal Jr. (Raleigh, N.C.: Edwards & Broughton, 1955).
Elizabeth Meader Hanson (1682-1737) was a British American colonial Quaker woman from Dover, New Hampshire, who was captured by Native Americans during Father Rale's War and held hostage for over 22 months, until she and most of her children were ransomed by her husband John Hanson. Her remaining child, Sarah, remained in captivity, and John died of exposure and illness attempting to secure her release.
Their lives were completely altered by this experience, and yet Elizabeth, a Quaker, was very understanding of her captors. Samuel Bownas recorded her story for other Quakers of the period. Ultimately, Sarah was remarried to the French Jean Baptiste Sabourin, thereby securing her freedom, as the French & the Native Americans were allies.
Egbert van Heemskerck the elder (British artist, 1634-35–1704) Quaker Meeting
Her story, God's Mercy Surmounting Man's Cruelty, Exemplified in the Captivity and Redemption of Elizabeth Hanson, wife of John Hanson, of Knoxmarsh, at Kecheachy, in Dover Township, who was taken captive with her children and maid-servant by Indians in New England, in the year 1724, was written and edited by Samuel Bownas, and its first edition was published by Samuel Keimer in 1728
As soon as the Indians discovered themselves, (having, as we afterwards understood, been skulking in the fields some days, watching their opportunity, when my dear husband, with the rest of our men, were gone out of the way,) two of them came in upon us, and then eleven more, all naked, with their guns and tomahawks, and in a great fury killed one child immediately, as soon as they entered the door, thinking thereby to strike in us the greater terror, and to make us more fearful of them. After which, in like fury, the captain came up to me; but at my request he gave me quarter. There were with me our servant and six of our children; two of the little ones being at play about the orchard, and my youngest child, but fourteen days old, whether in cradle or arms, I now remember not. Being in this condition, I was very unfit for the hardships I after met with, which I shall endeavor briefly to relate.
They went to rifling the house in a great hurry, (fearing, as I suppose, a surprise from our people, it being late in the afternoon,) and packed up some linen, woollen and what other thing's pleased them best, and when they had done what they would, they turned out of the house immediately; and while they were at the door, two of my younger children, one six, and the other four years old, came in sight, and being under a great surprise, cried aloud, upon which one of the Indians running to them, took them under the arms, and brought them to us. My maid prevailed with the biggest to be quiet and still; but the other could by no means be prevailed with, but continued shrieking and crying very much, and the Indians, to ease themselves of the noise, and to prevent the danger of a discovery that might arise from it, immediately, before my face, knocked his brains out. I bore this as well as I could, not daring to appear disturbed or to show much uneasiness, lest they should do the same to the others; but should have been exceeding glad if they had kept out of sight until we had gone from the house.
Now having killed two of my children, they scalped them, (practice common with these people, which is, whenever they kiU any enemies, they cut the skin off from the crown of ...heads, and carry it with them for a testimony and evidence that they have killed so many, receiving sometimes a reward for every scalp,) and then put forward to leave the house in great haste, without doing any other spoil than taking what they had packed together, with myself and little babe, fourteen days old, the boy six years, and two daughters, the one about fourteen and the other about sixteen years, with my servant girl.
It must be considered, that I having lain in but fourteen days, and being but very tender and weakly, and removed now out of a good room, well accommodated with fire, bedding, and other things suiting a person in my condition, it made these hardships to me greater than if I had been in a strong and healthy frame; yet, for all this, I must go or die. There was no resistance.
In this condition aforesaid we left the house, each Indian having something; and I with my babe and three children that could go of themselves. The captain, though he had as great a load as he could well carry, and was helped up with it, did, for all that, carry my babe for me in his arms, which I took to be a favor from him. Thus we went through several swamps and some brooks, they carefully avoiding all paths of any track like a road, lest by our footsteps we should be followed.
We got that night, I suppose, not quite ten miles from our house in a direct line ; then taking up their quarters, lighted a fire, some of them lying down, while others kept watch. I being both wet and weary, and lying on the cold ground in the open woods, took but little rest.
However, early in the morning, we must go just as the day appeared, travelling very hard all that day through sundry rivers, brooks and swamps, they, as before, carefully avoiding all paths for the reason already assigned. At night, I was both wet and tired exceedingly; having the same lodging on the cold ground, in the open woods. Thus, for twenty-six days, day by day we travelled very hard, sometimes a little by water, over lakes and ponds; and in this journey we went up some high mountains, so steep that I was forced to creep up on my hands and knees; under which difficulty, the Indian, my master, would mostly carry my babe for me, which I took as a great favor of God, that his heart was so tenderly inclined to assist me, though he had, as it is said, a very heavy burden of his own; nay, he would sometimes take my very blanket, so that I had nothing to do but to take my little boy by the hand for his help, and assist him as well as I could, taking him up in my arms a little at times, because so small; and when we came to very bad places, he would lend me his hand, or coming behind, would push me before him; in all which, he showed some humanity and civility, more than I could have expected: for which privilege I was secretly thankful to God, as the moving cause thereof.
Next to this we had some very great runs of water and brooks to wade through, in which at times we met with much difficulty, wading often to our middles, and sometimes our girls were up to their shoulders and chins, the Indians carrying my boy on their shoulders. At the side of one of these runs or rivers, the Indians would have my eldest daughter, Sarah, to sing them a song. Then was brought into her remembrance that passage in the 137th Psalm, " By the rivers of Babylon," When my poor child had given me this account, it was very affecting, and my heart was very full of trouble, yet on my child's account I was glad that she had so good an inclination, which she yet further manifested in longing for a Bible, that we might have the comfort of reading the holy text at vacant times, for our spiritual comfort under our present affliction.
Next to the difficulties of the rivers, were the prodigious swamps and thickets, very difficult to pass through, in which places my master would sometimes lead me by the hand, a great way together, and give me what help he was capable of, under the straits we went through; and we, passing, one after another, the first made it pretty passable for the hindmost.
But the greatest difficulty, that deserves the first to be named, was want of food, having at times nothing to eat hut pieces of old heaver-skin match-coats, which the Indians having hid, (for they came naked as is said before,) which in their going back again they took with them, and they were used more for food than raiment. Being cut into long narrow straps, they gave us little pieces, which by the Indians' example we laid on the fire until the hair was singed away, and then we ate them as a sweet morsel, experimentally knowing " that to the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet."
It is to he considered further, that of this poor diet we had but very scanty allowance; so that we were in no danger of being overcharged. But that which added to my trouble, was the complaints of my poor children, especially the little boy. Sometimes the Indians would catch a squirrel or beaver, and at other times we met with nuts, berries, and roots which they digged out of the ground, with the bark of some trees; but we had no corn for a great while together, though some of the younger Indians went back and brought some corn from the English inhabitants, (the harvest not being gathered,) of which we had ft Utile allowed us. But when they caught a beaver, we lived high while it lasted; they allowed me the guts and garbage for myself and children; but not allowing us to clean and wash them, as they ought, made the food very irksome to us to feed upon, and nothing besides pinching hunger could have made it any way tolerable to be borne.
The next difficulty was no less hard to me; for my daily travel and hard living made my milk dry almost quite up, and how to preserve my poor babe's life was no small care on my mind; having no other sustenance for her, many times, but cold water, which I took in my mouth, and let it fall on my breast, when I gave her the teat to suck in, with what it could get from the breast; and when I had any of the broth of the beaver's guts, or other guts, I fed my babe with it, and as well as I could I preserved her life until I got to Canada, and then I had some other food, of which, more in its place.
Having by this time got considerably on the way, the Indians parted, and we were divided amongst them. This was a sore grief to us all; but we must submit, and no way to help ourselves. My eldest daughter was first taken away, and carried to another part of the country, far distant from us, where for the present we must take leave of her, though with a heavy heart.
We did not travel far after this, before they divided again, taking my second daughter and servant maid from me, into another part of the country. So, I having now only my babe at mv breast, and little boy six years old, we remained with the captain still. But my daughter and servant underwent great hardships after they were parted from me, travelling three days without any food, taking nothing for support but cold water; and the third day, what with the cold, the wet, and hunger, the servant fell down as dead in a swoon, being both very cold and wet, at which the Indians, with whom they were, were surprised, showing some kind of tenderness, being unwilling then to lose them by death, having got them so near home ; hoping, if they lived, by their ransom to make considerable profit of them.
In a few days after this, they got near their journey's end, where they had more plenty of corn, and other food. But flesh often fell very short, having no other way to depend on for it but hunting; and when that failed, they had very short commons. It was not long ere my daughter and servant were likewise parted, and my daughter's master being sick, was not able to hunt for flesh; neither had they any corn in that place, but were forced to eat bark of trees for a whole week.
Being almost famished in this distress, Providence so ordered that some other Indians, hearing of their misery, came to visit them, (these people being very kind and helpful to one another, which is very commendable,) and brought to them the guts and liver of a beaver, which afforded them a good repast, being but four in number, the Indian, his wife and daughter, and my daughter.
By this time my master and our company got to our journey's end, where we were better fed at times, having some corn and venison, and wild fowl, or what they could catch by hunting in the woods; and my master having a large family, fifteen in number, we had at times very short commons, moie especially when game was scarce.
But here our lodging was still on the cold ground, in a poor wigwam, (which is a kind of little shelter made with the rind of trees, and mats for a covering, something like a tent.) These are so easily set up and taken down, that they often remove them from one place to another. Our shoes and stockings, and our other clothes, being worn out in this long journey through the bushes and swamps, and the weather coming in very hard, we were poorly defended from the cold, for want of necessaries ; which caused one of my feet, one of the little babe's, and both of the little boy's, to freeze; and this was no small exercise, yet, through mercy, we all did well.
Now, though we got to our journey's end, we were never long in one place, hut very oftin removed from one place to another, carrying our wigwams with us, which we could do without much difficulty. This, being for the convenience of hunting, made our accommodations much more unpleasant, than if we had continued in one place, by reason the coldness and dampness of the ground, where our wigwams were pitched, made it very unwholesome, and unpleasant lodging.
Having now got to the Indian fort, many of the Indians came to visit us, and in their way welcomed my master home, and held a great rejoicing, with dancing, firing of guns, beating on hollow trees, instead of drums; shouting, drinking, and feasting after their manner, in much excess, for several days together, which I suppose, in their thoughts, was a kind of thanks to God, put up for their safe return and good success. But while they were in their jollity and mirth, my mind was greatly exercised towards the Lord, that I, with my dear children, separated from me, might be preserved from repining against God under our affliction on the one hand, and on the other we might have our dependence on him, who rules the hearts of men, and can do what he pleases in the kingdoms of the earth, knowing that his care is over them who put their trust in him; but I found it very hard to keep my mind as I ought, in the resignation which is proper it should be, under such afflictions and sore trials as at that time I suffered in being under various fears and doubts concerning my children, that were separated from me, which helped to add to and greatly increase my troubles. And here I may truly say, my afflictions are not to be set forth in words to the extent of them.
We had not been long at home ere my master went a hunting, and was absent about a week, he ordering me in his absence to get in wood, gather nuts, &c. I was very diligent cutting the wood and putting it in order, not having very far to carry it. But when he returned, having got no prey, he was very much out of humor, and the disappointment was so great that he could not forbear revenging it on us poor captives. However, he allowed me a little boiled corn for myself and child, but with a very angry look threw a stick or corn cob at me with such violence as did bespeak he grudged our eating. At this his squaw and daughter broke out into a great crying. This made me fear mischief was hatching against us. I immediately went out of his presence into another wigwam; upon which he came after me, and in a great fury tore my blanket off my back, and took my little boy from me, and struck him down as he went along before him; but the poor child not being hurt, only frightened in the fall, started up and ran away without crying. Then the Indian, my master, left me; but his wife's mother came and sat down by me, and told me I must sleep there that night. She then going from me a little time, came back with a small skin to cover my feet withal, informing me that my master intended now to kill us, and I, being desirous to know the reason, expostulated, that in his absence I had been diligent to do as I was ordered by him. Thus as well as I could I made her sensible how unreasonable he was. Now, though she could not understand me, nor I her, but by signs, we reasoned as well as we could. She therefore made signs that I must die, advising me, by pointing up with her fingers, in her way, to pray to God, endeavoring by her signs and tears to instruct me in that which was most needful, viz. to prepare for death, which now threatened me : the poor old squaw was so very kind and tender, that she would not leave me all the night, but laid herself down at my feet, designing what she could to assuage her son-in-law's wrath, who had conceived evil against me, chiefly, as I understood, because the want of victuals urged him to it. My rest was little this night, my poor babe sleeping sweetly by me.
I dreaded the tragical design of my master, looking every hour for his coming to execute his bloody will upon us, but he being weary with hunting and travel in the woods, having toiled for nothing, went to rest and forgot it. Next morning he applied himself again to hunting in the woods, but I dreaded his returning empty, and prayed secretly in my heart that he might catch some food to satisfy his hunger, and cool his ill humor. He had not been gone but a little time, when he returned with booty, having shot some wild ducks; and now he appeared in a better temper, ordered the fowls to be dressed with speed; for these kind of people, when they have plenty, spend it as freely as they get it, using with gluttony and drunkenness, in two days' time, as much as with prudent management might serve a week. Thus do they live for the most part, either in excess of gluttony and drunkenness, or under great straits of want of necessaries. However, in this plentiful time, I felt the comfort of it in part with the family; having a portion sent for me and my little ones, which was very acceptable. Now, I thinking the bitterness of death was over for this time, my spirits were a little easier.
Not long after this he got into the like ill humor again, threatening to take away my life. But I always observed whenever he was in such a temper, he wanted food, and was pinched with hunger. Rut when he had success in hunting, to take either bears, bucks, or fowls, on which he could fill his belly, he was better humored, though he was naturally of a very hot and passionate temper, throwing sticks, stones, or whatever lay in his way, on every slight occasion. This made me in continual danger of my life ; but God, whose providence is over all his works, so preserved me that I never received any damage from him, that was of any great consequence to me; for which I ever desire to be thankful to my Maker.
When flesh was scarce we had only the guts and garbage allowed to our part; and not being permitted to cleanse the guts any other wise than emptying the dung, without so much as washing them, as before is noted ; in that filthy pickle we must boil them and eat them, which was very unpleasant. But hunger made up that difficulty, so that this food, which was very often our lot, became pretty tolerable to a sharp appetite, which otherwise could not have been dispensed with. Thus I considered, none knows what they can undergo until they are tried; for what I had thought in my own family not fit for food, would here have been a dainty dish and sweet morsel.
By this time, what with fatigue of spirits, hard labor, mean diet, and often want of natural rest, I was brought so low, that my milk was dried up, my babe very poor and weak, just skin and bones; for I could perceive all her joints from one end of the back to the other, and how to get what would suit her weak appetite, I was at a loss ; on which one of the Indian squaws, perceiving my uneasiness about my child, began some discourse with me, in which she advised me to take the kernels of walnuts, clean them and beat them with a little water, which I did and when I had so done the water looked like milk; then she advised me to add to this water a little of the finest of Indian corn meal, and boil it a little together. I did so, and it became palatable, and was very nourishing to the babe, so that she began to thrive and look well, who was before more like to die than live. I found that with this kind of diet the Indians did often nurse their infants. This was no small comfort. to me ; but this comfort was soon mixed with bitterness and trouble, which thus happened: my master taking notice of my dear babe's 'thriving condition, would often look upon her and say when she was fat enough she would be killed, and he would eat her; and pursuant to his pretence, at a certain time, he made me fetch him a stick that he had prepared for a spit to roast the child upon, as he said, which when I had done he made me sit down by him and undress the infant. When the child was naked he felt her arms, legs, and thighs, and told me she was not fat enough yet; I must dress her again until she was better in case.
Now, though he thus acted, I could not persuade myself that he intended to do as he pretended, but only to aggravate and afflict me; neither ever could I think but our lives would be preserved from his barbarous hands, by the overruling power of Him in whose providence I put iny trust both day and night.
A little time after this, my master fell sick, and in his sickness, as he lay in his wigwam, he ordered his own son to beat my son; but the old squaw, the Indian boy's grandmother, would not suffer him to do it: then his father, being provoked, caught up a stick, very sharp at one end, and with great violence threw it from him at my son, and hit him on the breast, with which my child was much bruised, and the pain with the surprise made him turn as pale as death; I entreating him not to cry, and the boy, though but six years old, bore it with wonderful patience, not so much as in the least complaining, so that the child's patience assuaged the barbarity of his heart: who, no doubt, would have carried his passion and resentment much higher, had the child cried, as always complaining did aggravate his passion, and his anger grew hotter upon it. Some little time after, on the same day, he got upon his feet, but far from being well. However, though he was sick, his wife and daughter let me know he intended to kill us, and I was under a fear, unless providence now interposed, how it would end. I therefore put down my child, and going out of his presence, went to cut wood for the fire as I used to do, hoping that would in part allay his passion; but withal, ere I came to the wigwam again, I expected my child would be killed in this mad fit, having no other way but to cast my care upon God, who had hitherto helped and cared for me and mine.
Under this great feud, the old squaw, my master's mother-in-law, left him, but my mistress and her daughter abode in the wigwam with my master, and when I came with my wood, the daughter came to me, whom I asked if her father had killed my child, and she made me a sign, no, with a countenance that seemed pleased it was so ; for instead of his further venting his passion on me and my children, the Lord in whom I trusted did seasonably interpose, and I took it as a merciful deliverance from him, and the Indian was under some sense of the same, as himself did confess to them about him afterwards.
Thus it was, a little after he got upon his feet, the Lord struck him with great sickness, and a violent pain, as appeared by the complaint he made in a doleful and hideous manner; which when I understood, not having yet seen him, I went to another squaw, that was come to see my master, which could both speak and understand English, and inquired of her if my mistress (for so I always called her, and him master) Jhought that master would die. She answered yes, it was very likely he would, being worse and worse. Then I told her he struck my boy a dreadful blow without any provocation at all, and had threatened to kill us all in his fury and passion, upon which the squaw told me my master had confessed the above abuse he offered my child, and that the mischief he had done was the cause why God afflicted him with that sickness and pain, and he had promised never to abuse us in such sort more: and after this he soon recovered, but was not so passionate ; nor do I remember he ever after struck either me or my children, so as to hurt us, or with that mischievous intent as before he used to do. This I took as the Lord's doing, and it was marvellous in my eyes.
Some few weeks after this, my master made another remove, having as before made several; but this was the longest ever he made, it being two days' journey, and mostly upon ice. The first day's journey the ice was bare, but the next day, some snow falling, made it very troublesome, tedious, and difficult travelling; and I took much damage in often falling; having the care of my babe, that added not a little to my uneasiness. And the last night when we came to encamp, it being in the night, I was ordered to fetch water; but having sat awhile on the cold ground, I could neither go nor stand; but crawling on my hands and knees, a young Indian squaw came to see our people, being of another family, in compassion took the kettle, and knowing where to go, which I did not, fetched the water for me. This I took as a great kindness and favor, that her heart was inclined to do me this service.
I now saw the design of this journey. My master being, as I suppose, weary to keep us, was willing to make what he could of our ransom; therefore, he went further towards the French, and left his family in this place, where they had a great dance, sundry other Indians coming to our people. This held some time, and while they were in it, I got out of their way in a corner of the wigwam as well as I could; but every time they came by me in their dancing, they would bow my head towards the ground, and frequently kick me with as great fury as they could bear, being sundry of them barefoot, and others having Indian mockosons. This dance held some time, and they made, in their manner, great rejoicings and noise.
It was not many days ere my master returned from the French; but he was in such a humor when he came back, he would not suffer me in his presence. Therefore I had a little shelter made with some boughs, they having digged through the snow to the ground, it being pretty deep. In this hole I and my poor children were put to lodge; the weather being very sharp, with hard frost, in the month called January, made it more tedious to me and my children. Our stay was not long in this place before he took me to the French, in order for a chapman. When we came among them I was exposed for sale, and he asked for me 800 livres. But his chapman not complying with his demand, put him in a great rage, offering him but GOO; he said, in a great passion, if he could not have his demand, he would make a great fire and burn me and the babe, in the view of the town,. which was named Fort Royal. The Frenchman bid the Indian make his fire, " and I will," says he, " help you, if you think that will do you more good than 600 livres," calling my master fool, and speaking roughly to him, bid him be gone. But at the same time the Frenchman was civil to me; and, for my encouragement, bid me be of good cheer, for I should be redeemed, and not go back with them again.
Retiring now with my master for this night, the next day I was redeemed for six hundred livres; and in treating with my master, the Frenchman queried why he asked so much for the child's ransom; urging, when she had her belly full, she would die. My master said, " No, she would not die, having already lived twenty-six days on nothing but water, believing the child to be a devil." The Frenchman told him, " No, the child is ordered for longer life; and it has pleased God to preserve her to admiration." My master said no, she was a devil, and he believed she would not die, unless they took a hatchet and beat her brains out. Thus ended their discourse, and I was, as aforesaid, with my babe, ransomed for six hundred livres; my little boy, likewise, at the same time, for an additional sum of livres, was redeemed also.
I now having changed my landlord, my table and diet, as well as my lodging, the French were civil beyond what I could either desire or expect. But the next day after I was redeemed, the Romish priest took my babe from me, and according to their custom, they baptized her, urging if she died before that she would be damned, like some of our modern pretended reformed priests, and they gave her a name as pleased them best, which was Mary Ann Frossways, telling me my child, if she now died, would be saved, being baptized ; and my landlord speaking to the priest that baptized her, said, " It would be well, now Frossways was baptized, for her to die, being now in a state to be saved," but the priest said, " No, the child having been so miraculously preserved through so many hardships, she may be designed by God for some great work, and by her life being still continued, may much more glorify God than if she should now die." A very sensible remark, and I wish it may prove true.
I having been about five months amongst the Indians in about one month after I got amongst the French, my dear husband, to my unspeakable comfort and joy, came to me, who was now himself concerned to redeem his children, two of our daughters being still captives, and only myself and two little ones redeemed; and, through great difficulty and trouble, he recovered the younger daughter. But the eldest we could by no means obtain from their hands, for the squaw, to whom she was given, had a son whom she intended my daughter should in time be prevailed with to marry. The Indians are very civil towards their captive women, not offering any incivility by any indecent carriage, (unless they be much overcome in liquor,) which is commendable in them, so far.
However, the affections they had for my daughter made them refuse all offers and terms of ransom; so that, after my poor husband had waited, and made what attempts and endeavors he could to obtain his child, and all to no purpose, we were forced to make homeward, leaving our daughter, to our great grief, behind us, amongst the Indians, and set forward over the lake, with three of our children, and the servant maid, in company with sundry others, and, by the kindness of Providence, we got well home on the 1st day of the 7th month, 1725. From which it appears I had been from home, amongst the Indians and French, about twelve months and six days.
In the series of which time, the many deliverances and wonderful providences of God unto us, and over us, hath been, and I hope will so remain to be, as a continued obligation on my mind, ever to live in that fear, love, and obedience to God, duly regarding, by his grace, with meekness and wisdom, to approve myself by his spirit, in all holiness of life and godliness of conversation, to the praise of him that hath called me, who is God blessed forever.
But my dear husband, poor man! could not enjoy himself in quiet with us, for want of his dear daughter Sarah, that was left behind; and not willing to omit anything for her redemption which lay in his power, he could not be easy without making a second attempt; in order to which, he took his journey about the 19th day of the second month, 1727, in company with a kinsman and his wife, who went to redeem some of their children, and were so happy as to obtain what they went about. But my dear husband being taken sick on the way, grew worse and worse, as we were informed, and was sensible he should not get over it; telling my kinsman that if it was the Lord's will he must die in the wilderness, he was freely given up to it. He was under a good composure of mind, and sensible to his last moment, and died, as near as we can judge, in about the half way between Albany and Canada, in my kinsman's arms, and is at rest, I hope, in the Lord: and though my own children's loss is very great, yet I doubt not but his gain is much more; I therefore desire and pray, that the Lord will enable me patiently to submit to his will in all things he is pleased to suffer to be my lot, while here, earnestly supplicating the God and father of all our mercies to be a father to my fatherless children, and give unto them that blessing, which maketh truly rich, and adds no sorrow with it; that as they grow in years they may grow in grace, and experience the joy of salvation, which is come by Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. Amen.
Now, though my husband died, by reason of which his labor was ended, yet my kinsman prosecuted the thing, and left no stone unturned, that he thought, or could be advised, wa3 proper to the obtaining my daughter's freedom; but could by no means prevail; for, as is before said, she being in another part of the country distant from where I was, and given to an old squaw, who intended to marry her in time to her son, using what persuasion she could to effect her end, sometimes by fair means, and sometimes by severe.
In the mean time a Frenchman interposed, and they by persuasions enticing my child to marry, in order to obtain her freedom, by reason that those captives married by the French are, by that marriage, made free among them, the Indians having then no pretence longer to keep them as captives; she therefore was prevailed upon, for the reasons afore assigned, to marry, and she was accordingly married to the said French' man.
Thus, as well, and as near as I can from my memory, (not being capable of keeping a journal,) I have given a short but a tine account of some of the remarkable trials and wonderful deliverances which I never purposed to expose; but that I hope thereby the merciful kindness and goodness of God may be magnified, and the reader hereof pro.voked with more care and fear to serve him in righteousness and humility, and then mv designed end and purpose will be answered. E. H.
Bethlehem, Pennsylvania was founded in 1741 by a group of Reformation-era Protestants from central Europe known as the Moravians. The Moravians were avid writers & faithful keepers of diaries; each member of a Moravian congregation was also charged with writing a kind of memoir called a lebenslauf, which translates into English as “course of life.”
1700s Diary Tells Of Capture By Indians Moravian Woman Escaped, Lived In Northampton County
September 10, 1986 by Jennifer Ritenour,
The Morning Call, Allentown, PA
"Some lucky people returned from Indian captivity, & Mariana Hoeth was one of them," the Rev. Vernon Nelson, archivist, told 50 people Sunday at the Moravian Archives in Bethlehem.
The life of Hoeth, who became a Moravian in 1760, five years after being captured by American Indians, was the subject of the first Moravian Archives lecture of the season.
Using Hoeth's memoir, which she dictated to a fellow Moravian shortly after her return to civilization, Nelson related the details of Hoeth's life & experiences, citing historical reasons that it is accurate.
According to Hoeth's memoir, her family moved from Germany to Philadelphia in 1748. Her father, Friedrich, being what she termed a "legalistic" man who feared the worldly city, moved his family to a farm beyond the Blue Mountains near the present-day town of Gilbert.
The family lived there peacefully for several years, until November 1755, when they began to hear rumors of an Indian war & the massacre at Moravian mission at Gnaden Huetten (now Lehighton).
The 18-year-old Hoeth tried to persuade her father to move the family to a more populous location, but he refused, confident that the Indians wouldn't attack. But despite her father's confidence, the young Hoeth was fearful: "I did not think about being taken captive," she wrote, "but I feared death."
Both came on Dec. 10, 1755. "They came shooting," Hoeth wrote, adding that her father went out to see what the commotion was & was immediately gunned down. Her mother & youngest sister also were killed on the spot. She & two remaining sisters were taken captive.
"I cannot describe how I felt - first to lose my dear parents in such a way & to be taken by the wild Indians," the young girl wrote.
The girls were forced to walk to Tioga, near the northern border of the state. On the walk, Hoeth met Susanna Nitschmann, a missionary at the Gnaden Huetten Moravian mission & a survivor of the Gnaden Huetten massacre who had been cruelly tortured by her Indian captor.
When they reached Tioga, the Indian killed Nitschmann & took Hoeth as his prisoner. But his cruelty earned Hoeth the sympathy of the other Indians. "They gave me to an old mother as her child," Hoeth wrote. "Then I had it good - in Indian fashion."
Several months later she was told to marry an Indian, but refused. "I hid in the woods for eight days," she wrote, but she was found & carried off to be burned at the stake. Her adopted brother lighted the fire at her feet, & she quickly decided to marry.
"He was a good person," she wrote of her Indian husband. "He loved me very much. He wished I were at home with the white people." But he had done nothing to return her to her kind, so while her husband was away, Hoeth, who stayed with her adopted mother near Pittsburgh, plotted to escape with her young son. She spent much time planning & soon boarded a wagon & escaped back to civilization - to the Moravian settlement at Lancaster, where she was given medical treatment, & later to the Moravians of Northampton County, where she spent the remainder of her life.
One of Hoeth's sisters later married a Frenchman & the other was never heard of.
But is Mariana Hoeth's tale true?
According to Nelson, it is. "Her facts hold up," the archivist said, noting that the Lancaster congregation's diary mentions her arrival with her 1 1/2 -year-old son on Sept. 12, 1759, & that her arrival in Bethlehem several weeks later was noted in the Bethlehem congregation's diary.
"Mariana's account was read at her funeral," Nelson added. "Moravians were very well acquainted with Indians & would not have read something they did not believe was true."
Furthermore, Nelson noted, Hoeth's account of meeting Nitschmann is accurate. "Mariana was perhaps the first white woman to know that Susanna Nitschmann was still alive after the massacre," he said, noting that the Moravians assumed she had been killed. Hoeth's account of Nitschmann's survival was confirmed in July 1756 by a group of Christian Indians passing through Bethlehem.
In addition, Nelson said, the matter of adoption has been well documented. And even though her adopted brother was the one to light the match under Hoeth's feet, Nelson said, it was not an act of cruelty, but an act to avoid bloodshed. If another were to have lit the fire, Nelson said, the brother would have had to defend Hoeth & kill yet another according to Indian law.
"Mariana did not know the cultural background of the things that happened to her," Nelson said. "Mariana had the experience of living with the Indians in their natural state." Because of this, Nelson said, her experience is valuable. "Even the dates check up."
The Hoeth farm in the Blue Mountains was purchased by Moravians to be turned into a mission in 1760. It seemed to make a statement, Nelson said, that "even at this place of death there should be life," & proved true the adage "the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church."
Charles Grignion I (English engraver, 1717–1810) after Benjamin West (American, 1738-1820) Indians giving a talk to Colonel Bouquet in a conference at a council fire, near his camp on the banks of Muskingum Oct. 1764
Pontiac's Rebellion & early Biological Warfare
Pontiac's Rebellion was a war launched in 1763 by North American Indians who were dissatisfied with British policies in the Great Lakes region after the British victory in the French & Indian War/Seven Years' War (1754–1763). The conflict is named after its most famous participant, the Ottawa leader Pontiac. Warriors from numerous tribes joined the uprising in an effort to drive British soldiers & settlers out of the region.
Contributing to the outbreak of war was a religious awakening sweeping through Indian settlements in the early 1760s. The movement was fed by discontent with the British as well as food shortages & epidemic disease. Neolin, known as the "Delaware Prophet," who called upon Indians to shun the trade goods, alcohol, & weapons of the whites. Merging elements from Christianity into traditional religious beliefs, Neolin told listeners that the Master of Life was displeased with the Indians for taking up the bad habits of the white men, & that the British posed a threat to their very existence. "If you suffer the English among you," said Neolin, "you are dead men. Sickness, smallpox, & their poison [alcohol] will destroy you entirely."
The war began in May 1763 when American Indians, alarmed by policies imposed by British General Jeffrey Amherst, attacked a number of British forts & settlements. Eight forts were destroyed, & hundreds of colonists were killed or captured, with many more fleeing the region. Hostilities came to an end after British Army expeditions in 1764 led to peace negotiations over the next 2 years. The Indians were unable to drive away the British but did prompt the British government to modify the policies tward the Native Americans.
Colonists in western Pennsylvania fled to the safety of Fort Pitt after the outbreak of the war. Nearly 550 people crowded inside, including more than 200 women & children. Simeon Ecuyer, the Swiss-born British officer in command, wrote that "We are so crowded in the fort that I fear disease…; the smallpox is among us." Fort Pitt was attacked on June 22, 1763, primarily by Delawares.
For Amherst, who before the war had dismissed the possibility that the Indians would offer any effective resistance to British rule, the military situation over the summer became increasingly grim. He wrote his subordinates, instructing them that captured enemy Indians should "immediately be put to death." To Colonel Henry Bouquet at Lancaster, Pennsylvania, who was preparing to lead an expedition to relieve Fort Pitt, Amherst made the following proposal on about June 29, 1763: "Could it not be contrived to send the small pox among the disaffected tribes of Indians? We must on this occasion use every stratagem in our power to reduce them."
Bouquet agreed, replying to Amherst on July 13: "I will try to inoculate the bastards with some blankets that may fall into their hands, & take care not to get the disease myself." Amherst responded favorably on July 16: "You will do well to inoculate the Indians by means of blankets, as well as every other method that can serve to extirpate this execrable race."
As it turned out, officers at the besieged Fort Pitt had already attempted to do what Amherst & Bouquet were still discussing, apparently without having been ordered to do so by Amherst or Bouquet. During a parley at Fort Pitt on June 24, 1763, Ecuyer gave representatives of the besieging Delawares two blankets & a handkerchief that had been exposed to smallpox, hoping to spread the disease to the Indians in order to end the siege. This was not the first time that a crude form of biological warfare had been attempted in the region: in 1761, American Indians had attempted to poison the well at Fort Ligonier using an animal carcass.
It is uncertain whether the British successfully infected the Indians. Because many American Indians died from smallpox during Pontiac's Rebellion, some historians concluded that the attempt was successful, but many scholars now doubt that conclusion. One reason is that the outbreak of smallpox among the Ohio Indians apparently preceded the blanket incident. Furthermore, the Indians outside Fort Pitt kept up the siege for more than a month after receiving the blankets, apparently unaffected by any outbreak of disease. The 2 Delaware chiefs who handled the blankets were in good health a month later as well. Because the disease was already in the area, it may have reached Indian villages through a number of vectors. Eyewitnesses reported that native warriors contracted the disease after attacking infected white settlements, & they may have spread the disease upon their return home.
The ruthlessness of the conflict was a reflection of a growing racial divide between British colonists & American Indians. The British government sought to prevent further racial violence by issuing the Royal Proclamation of 1763, which created a boundary between colonists & Indians.
Artist Benjamin West
Benjamin West (1738-1820) was the 10th child of a rural innkeeper in Springfield, Pennsylvania, in October, 1738, & died exaulted in London, in March, 1820. Before his ascension to historical allegory painter for English royalty, he began learning his craft as a humble portraitist in Philadelphia. West told John Galt, his biographer, that when he was a child, Native Americans showed him how to make paint by mixing some clay from the river bank with bear grease in a pot.
During his years painting in the British American colonies, his portraits exhibit a modest attempt to emulate the baroque & rococo styles, which he probably observed in Philadelphia. His modest American portrait compositions also exhibit some knowledge of English mezzotint portraits reflecting the works of Peter Lely (1618–160) & Godfrey Kneller (1646–1723). West told a friend that a "Mr. Hide (Haidt), a German," gave him instruction. Johann Valentine Haidt (1700-1780), a Moravian evangelist & trained artist, painted not just portraits, but also history & religious paintings. Apparently, Benjamin West became determined to paint inspiring historical & religious compositions as well.
He later wrote, "Most undoubtedly had not (I) been settled in Philadelphia I should not have embraced painting as a profession." However, his early move away from Philadelphia to England was necessary for him to work in a country where artists were commissioned to paint inspiring depictions of history's real & imagined indispensable men & women who made extreme sacrifices & performed noble deeds. In the American colonies, the gentry paid for portraits, not inspiration.
Benjamin West became a painter of historical scenes, sometimes including Native Americans, around & after the time of the American War of Independence & the Seven Years' War. During his 22 years in America, he was a fairly typical provincial artist; but his choice to leave the colonies in 1760, for Europe & England led to his appointment as the official painter at the court of King George III & to his becoming co-founder of the Royal Academy in London, where 3 generations of fellow American students would return home from his tutelage to impact the art of the emerging republic.
From Europe to the Atlantic coast of America & on to the Pacific coast during the 17C-19C, settlers moved West encountering a variety of Indigenous Peoples who had lived on the land for centuries.
By the 1760s, Native American Cherokees were well known in Britain. Here Three Cherokees visit London in 1762
Nancy Ward (c 1738-1822), Cherokee leader, was probably born at Chota, a Cherokee village on the Little Tennessee River near Fort Loudoun in Monroe County, Tennessee. Her father is said to have been a Delaware Indian who, following the custom in the matriarchal Cherokee society, had become a member of the Wolf clan, when he married Tame Doe, the sister of Atta-kulla-kulla (Little Carpenter), civil chief of the Cherokee Nation.
Nancy (an anglicized version of her Indian name, Nanye’hi), was married at an early age to Kingfisher of the Deer clan, by whom she had a son, Fivekiller, & a daughter, Catharine.
She first won notice in 1755, when her husband was killed during the battle of Taliwa (near present-day Canton, Ga.), a skirmish in the long rivalry between the Cherokees & the Creeks. At once taking his place in the battle line, she helped secure a decisive Cherokee victory. In recognition of her valor, she was chosen Agi-ga-u-e, or “Beloved Woman” of her tribe. In this capacity, she headed the influential Women’s Council, made up of a representative from each Cherokee clan, & sat as a member of the Council of Chiefs.
Her 2nd husband was Bryant (or Brian) Ward. Ward, an English trader who had fought in the French and Indian War, took up residence with the Cherokees & married Nancy in the late 1750s. Ward had a wife, but since Cherokees did not consider marriage a life-long institution, the arrangement apparently presented few problems. Ward & her English husband lived in Chota for a time & became the parents of a daughter, Elizabeth (Betsy).
Ward left the Cherokee Nation sometime prior to 1760, when the suddenly hostile Cherokees destroyed Fort Loudoun & massacred its British garrison. Ward moved back to South Carolina, where he lived the remainder of his life with his white wife & family. Nancy Ward and Betsy visited his home on many occasions, where they were welcomed and treated with respect.
Influenced perhaps by these associations, as well as by her uncle, Atta-kulla-kulla, usually a friend of the English, Nancy Ward seems to have maintained a steady friendship for the white settlers who were gradually establishing themselves along the Holston & Watauga river valleys of eastern Tennessee.
This friendship had important results during the American Revolution. In 1775 or 1776, Nancy Ward is credited with having sent a secret warning to John Sevier, a leader of the Tennessee settlers, of a planned pro-British Cherokee attack. When one settler, Mrs. William Bean, was captured by Cherokee warriors, Nancy Ward personally intervened to save her from death at the stake. Such was Nancy Ward’s repute among the settlers that in October 1776, when the Cherokee villages were devastated by colonial troops, Chota was spared.
Four years later, when another Cherokee uprising was imminent, she again sent a timely warning to the settlers, using an intermediary Isaac Thomas, a local trader. A countering raid was at once organized; as the expedition approached the Cherokee territory-according to the report later sent to Thomas Jefferson, governor of Virginia, noted, “the famous Indian Woman Nancy Ward came to Camp,…gave us various intelligence, & made an overture in behalf of some of the Cheifs [sic] for Peace”
Despite her efforts the Cherokee villages were pillaged, but again Nancy Ward & her family were given preferential treatment. At the subsequent peace negotiations conducted by John Sevier, Nancy Ward spoke for the new defeated Cherokees, again urging friendship rather than war. In 1785, at the talks preceding the Treaty of Hopewell, she again pleaded eloquently for a “chain of friendship” linking the 2 cultures.
Nancy Ward was described by one settler in 1772, as “queenly & commanding” & her residence as outfitted in “barbaric splendor” (Hale & Merritt, I, 59). While sheltering Mrs. Bean after her rescue in 1776, she had learned from her how to make butter & cheese, & soon afterward she introduced dairying among the Cherokees, herself buying the first cattle. In postwar years, she sought further to strengthen the economy of her people by cattle raising & more intensive farming.
Ward exerted considerable influence over the affairs of both the Cherokees & the white settlers & participated actively in treaty negotiations. In July 1781, she spoke powerfully at the negotiations held on the Long Island of the Holston River following settler attacks on Cherokee towns. Leader Oconastota designated Kaiyah-tahee (Old Tassel) to represent the Council of Chiefs in the meeting with John Sevier & the other treaty commissioners. After Old Tassel finished his persuasive talk, Ward called for a lasting peace on behalf of both white and Indian women. This unparalleled act of permitting a woman to speak in the negotiating council took the commissioners aback.
In their response, Colonel William Christian acknowledged the emotional effect her plea had on the men & praised her humanity, promising to respect the peace if the Cherokees likewise remained peaceful. Ward's speech may have influenced the negotiators in a more fundamental way, because the resulting treaty was one of the few where settlers made no demand for Cherokee land. Before the meeting, the commissioners had intended to seek all land north of the Little Tennessee River. Nevertheless, the earlier destruction of Cherokee towns & the tribe's winter food supply left many Indians facing hunger. As a result of the desperate circumstances, Ward & the very old Oconastota spent that winter in the home of Joseph Martin, Indian Agent to the Cherokees & husband of Ward's daughter Betsy.
Again, at the Treaty of Hopewell in 1785, Ward made a dramatic plea for continued peace. At the close of the ceremonies, she invited the commissioners to smoke her pipe of peace & friendship. Wistfully hoping to bear more children to people the Cherokee nation, Ward looked to the protection of Congress to prevent future disturbances and expressed the hope that the "chain of friendship will never more be broken." Although the commissioners promised that all settlers would leave Cherokee lands within six months and even gave the Indians the right to punish recalcitrant homesteaders, whites ignored the treaty, forcing the Cherokees to make addional land cessions.
Though too ill to be present, she sent a vigorous message to the Cherokee Council of May 1817, urging the tribe not to part with any more of its land. But other forces were stronger than her aged voice. At this time, the Cherokee moved from a matriarchal, clan-type of government to a republic much like our own. The new republican order supplanted the old hierarchy among the Cherokees, & by the Hiwassee Purchase on 1819, they gave up all the land north of the Hiwassee River.
Thus forced to leave Chota, Nancy Ward opened a small inn overlooking the Ocoee River in the southeastern corner of Tennessee, near the present town of Benton. She died there in 1822, & was buried on a nearby hill, in a grave later marked by a Tennessee D.A.R. chapter bearing her name. Her grave is beside the graves of her son Five Killer and her brother Long Fellow (The Raven). Thirteen years after her death the Cherokees surrendered all claim to their historic homeland & were transported to new territories in the Southwest.
Nancy Ward's Grave, once unmarked, near Benton, Tennessee
This posting based, in part, on information from Notable American Women edited by Edward T James, Janet Wilson James, Paul S Boyer, The Belknap Press of Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts. 1971
From Europe to the Atlantic coast of America & on to the Pacific coast during the 17C-19C, settlers moved West encountering a variety of Indigenous Peoples who had lived on the land for centuries.
Benjamin West (American artist, 1738-1820) The Treaty of Penn with the Indians. In 1771, Thomas Penn wanted a painting of his father meeting with the Native Americans. He commissioned Pennsylvania-born artist Benjamin West to capture the dramatic encounter on canvas.
William Penn & the Lenape Indians
William Penn (1644-1718) was an English real estate entrepreneur, philosopher, early Quaker & founder of the English North American colony called the Province of Pennsylvania. He was an early advocate of democracy & religious freedom, especially noted for his good relations & successful treaties with the Lenape Native Americans. Reportedly William Penn addressed the Native Americans, uttering the following which will be admired throughout the ages: “We meet on the broad pathway of good faith and good-will; no advantage shall be taken on either side, but all shall be openness and love. We are the same as if one man’s body was to be divided into two parts; we are of one flesh and one blood.”
The reply of Tamanend, is equally noble: “We will live in love with William Penn and his children as long as the creeks and rivers run, and while the sun, moon, and stars endure.”
Since there in no written record of William Penn's Peace Treaty, some believe that it never took place. However, tradition reflects that since no land was being transferred, there was no reason to record a treaty. Most conservators of Penn’s Treaty with the Indians think that the event was more of a diplomatic mission, an “entente” of sorts, where Penn and the Indians met with mutual and complementary efforts on both sides, establishing a sense of compatible objectives, to come to foundation for a trusting relationship.
In August of 1683, about 10 months after Penn’s Treaty, William Penn wrote a long letter to the Free Society of Traders, in which he describes a council that he had with the Indians. The letter explains how a possible treaty with the Indians might have looked and been carried out:
"Their order is thus: The King sits in the middle of a half moon, and has his council, the old and wise on each hand. Behind them or at a little distance sit the younger fry in the same figure.
"Having consulated and resolved their business the King ordered one of them to speak to me. He stood up, came to me and in the name of his King saluted me, then took me by the hand and told me he was ordered by his King to speak to me, and that now it was not he, but the King who spoke, because what he should say was the King’s mind.
"Which done another made a speech to the Indians in the name of all the Sachamachers or Kings; first to tell what was done: next to charge and command them to love the Christians and particularly to live in peace with me and the people under my government; that they should never do mine or me any wrong. At every sentence of which they shouted, and in their way said, Amen.
"Great promises passed between us of kindness and good neighborhood, and that the English and Indians must live in love as long as the sun gave light.
The "Peace Treaty" between William Penn and the Native Americans was reported to have ended with these words of the Native Americans as quoted by Governor Gordon at the Council at Conestoga, May 26, 1728:
"We will be brethren, my people and your people, as the children of one father. All the paths shall be open to the Christian and the Indian. The doors of the Christian shall be open to the Indian and the wigwam of the Indian shall be open to the Christian.
"The Christian shall believe no false stories, the Indian shall believe no false stories, they shall first come together as brethren and inquire of each other; when they hear such false stories they shall bury them in the bottomless pit.
"The Christian hearing news that may hurt the Indian, or the Indian hearing news that may hurt the Christian, shall make it known the one to the other, as speedily as possible, as true friends and brethren.
"The Indian shall not harm the Christian, nor his friend; the Christian shall not harm the Indian, nor his friend; but they shall live together as brethren. As there are wicked people in all Nations; if the Indian or the Christian shall harm the one or the other, complaint shall be made by the sufferer, that right may be done; and when right is done, the wrong shall be forgotten, and buried in the bottomless pit.
"The Indian shall help the Christian, and the Christian shall help the Indian, against all evil men, who would molest them.
"We will transmit this League between us to our children. It shall be made stronger and stronger, and be kept bright and clean without rust or spot, between our children and our children’s children, while the creeks and rivers run, and while the sun, moon, and stars endure."
This League of peace and friendship has been passed down by the Native Americans to their children as witnessed repeatedly in the history of the Pennsylvania Council meetings between the years 1718 to 1735. In 1718 the Chief of the Conestoga Indians, amongst others, showed up at a Council in Philadelphia “to Renew the old League of friendship that had hitherto been between us and them,” and as late as 1734 John Penn, William Penn's son, stated at a Council meeting in Philadelphia: "I desire you to assure all the Indians, and particularly my good friends of the Six Nations, that it shall be my constant care to strengthen that firm League and Chain of Friendship which my Father first began, and has since been carefully preserved between the Indians and all the People within this Government."
Artist Benjamin West (1738-1820) was the 10th child of a rural innkeeper in Springfield, Pennsylvania, in October, 1738, & died exaulted in London, in March, 1820. Before his ascension to historical allegory painter for English royalty, he began learning his craft as a humble portraitist in Philadelphia. West told John Galt, his biographer, that when he was a child, Native Americans showed him how to make paint by mixing some clay from the river bank with bear grease in a pot.
During his years painting in the British American colonies, his portraits exhibit a modest attempt to emulate the baroque & rococo styles, which he probably observed in Philadelphia. His modest American portrait compositions also exhibit some knowledge of English mezzotint portraits reflecting the works of Peter Lely (1618–160) & Godfrey Kneller (1646–1723). West told a friend that a "Mr. Hide (Haidt)," a German, gave him instruction. Johann Valentine Haidt (1700-1780), a Moravian evangelist & trained artist, painted not just portraits, but also history & religious paintings. Apparently, Benjamin West became determined to paint inspiring historical & religious compositions as well.
He later wrote, "Most undoubtedly had not (I) been settled in Philadelphia I should not have embraced painting as a profession." However, his early move away from Philadelphia to England was necessary for him to work in a country where artists were commissioned to paint inspiring depictions of history's real & imagined indispensable men & women who made extreme sacrifices & performed noble deeds. In the American colonies, the gentry paid for portraits, not inspiration.
Benjamin West became a painter of historical scenes, sometimes including Native Americans, around & after the time of the American War of Independence & the Seven Years' War. During his 22 years in America, he was a fairly typical provincial artist; but his choice to leave the colonies in 1760, for Europe & England led to his appointment as the official painter at the court of King George III & to his becoming co-founder of the Royal Academy in London, where 3 generations of fellow American students would return home from his tutelage to impact the art of the emerging republic.
1798 John Fairburn British Engraver
From Europe to the Atlantic coast of America & on to the Pacific coast during the 17C-19C, settlers moved West encountering a variety of Indigenous Peoples who had lived on the land for centuries.
Sketch & Narrative From Henry Howe's 1852 book Historical Collections of the Great West, "Slaughter of Moravian Leanpe Indians 1781"
A melancholy disaster, about the same time, befell a body of one hundred & seven United States troops, under Capt. Laherty, on their way down the Ohio to Fort Steuben, at the Falls of the Ohio. They were attacked by an overwhelming force of Indians, near the mouth of the Great Miami, and, although making a brave resistance, were compelled to retreat, with the loss of about fifty slain. Massacre of the Moravian or Christian Indians. As early as the year 1762, the Moravian missionaries, Post & Heckewelder, established a mission among the Indians on the Tuscarawas. Before the close of the war of the revolution, they had three flourishing stations Or villages, viz: Shoenbrun, Gnadenhutten & Salem. These were respectively about five miles apart, & stood near fifty miles west of the site of Steubenville, Ohio. In the war, their position was eminently dangerous. They were midway between the hostile towns on the Sandusky & the frontier settlements, & being on the direct route of war parties of either, were compelled occasionally to give sustenance & shelter to both. This excited the jealousy of the contending races, although they preserved a strict neutrality, & looked with horror upon the shedding of blood. In February, 1782, many murders were committed upon the upper Ohio & the Monongahela, by the hostile Indians. The settlers believing that the Moravians were either concerned in these murders, or had harbored those who were, determined to destroy their towns, the existence of which, they deemed dangerous to their safety. Accordingly, in March, about ninety volunteers assembled under the command of Col. David Williamson, in the Mingo Bottom, just below the site of Steubenville. Arriving in the vicinity of Gnadenhutten, they, on the morning of the 8th, surrounded & entered the town, where they found a large party of Indians in a field, gathering corn. They informed the Indians that they had come on an errand of peace & friendship that they were going to take them to Fort Pitt for protection. The unsuspecting Indians, pleased at the prospect of their removal, delivered up their arms which they used for hunting, & commenced preparing breakfast for themselves & guests. An Indian messenger was dispatched to Salem, to apprise the brethren there of the new arrangement, & both companies then returned to Gnadenhutten. On reaching the village, a number of mounted militia started for the Salem settlement, but ere they reached it, found that the Moravian Indians at that place had already left their corn-fields, by the advice of the messenger, & were on the road to join their brethren at Gnadenhutten. Measures had been adopted by the militia to secure the Indians whom they had at first decoyed into their power. They were bound, confined in two houses, & well guarded. On the arrival of the Indians from Salem, (their arms having been previously secured without suspicion of any hostile intention,) they were also fettered, & divided between the two prison-houses, the males in one, the females in the other. The number thus confined in both, including men, women & children, have been estimated from ninety to ninety-six. A council was then held to determine how the Moravian Indians should be disposed of. This self-constituted military court embraced both officers & privates. The late Dr. Dodridge, in his published notes on Indian wars, says:
"Colonel Williamson put the question, whether the Moravian Indians should be taken prisoners to Fort Pitt, or put to death?" requesting those who were in favor of saving their lives to step out & form a second rank. Only eighteen out of the whole number stepped forth as advocates of mercy. In these, the feelings of humanity were not extinct. In the majority, which was large, no sympathy was manifested. They resolved to murder (for no other word can express the act) the whole of the Christian Indians in their custody. Among these were several who had contributed to aid the missionaries in the work of conversion & civilization two of whom emigrated from New Jersey after the death of their spiritual pastor, the Rev. David Brainard. One woman, who could speak good English, knelt before the commander & begged his protection. Her supplication was unavailing. They were ordered to prepare for death. But the warning had been anticipated. Their firm belief in their new creed was shown forth in the sad hour of their tribulation, by religious exercises of preparation. The orisons of these devoted people were already ascending the throne of the Most High! the sound of the Christian's hymn & the Christian's prayer found an echo in the surrounding woods, but no responsive feeling in the bosoms of their executioners. With gun, & spear, & tomahawk, & scalping-knife, the work of death progressed in these slaughter-houses, until not a sigh or moan was heard to proclaim the existence of human life within all, save two two Indian boys escaped, as if by a miracle, to be witnesses in after times of the savage cruelty of the white man toward their unfortunate race. Of the number thus cruelly murdered by the backwoodsmen of the upper Ohio, between fifty & sixty were women & children some of them innocent babes. No resistance was made; one only attempted to escape. The whites finished the tragedy by setting fire to the town, including the slaughter-houses with the bodies in them, all of which were consumed. A detachment was sent to the upper town, Shoenbrun, but the people having received information of what was transpiring below, had deserted it. Those engaged in the campaign, were generally men of standing, at home. When the expedition was formed, it was given out to the public that its sole object was to remove the Moravians to Pittsburgh, & by destroying the villages, deprive the hostile savages of a shelter. In their towns, various articles plundered from the whites, were discovered. One man is said to have found the bloody clothes of his wife & children, who had recently been murdered. These articles, doubtless, had been purchased of the hostile Indians. The sight of these, it is said, bringing to mind the forms of murdered relations, wrought them up to an uncontrollable pitch of frenzy which nothing but blood could satisfy. In the year 1799, when the remnant of the Moravian Indians were recalled by the United States to reside on the same spot, an old Indian, in company with a young man by the name of Carr, walked over the desolate scene, & showed to the white man an excavation, which had formerly been a cellar, & in which were still some moldering bones of the victims, though seventeen years had passed since their tragic death the tears, in the meantime, falling down the wrinkled face of this aged child of the Tuscarawas. Crawford's Defeat. At the time of the massacre, less than half of the Moravian Indians were at their towns, on the Tuscarawas, the remainder having been carried off, by the hostile Indians, to Sandusky, had settled these in their vicinity. Immediately after the return of Williamson's men, what may be called a second Moravian campaign, was projected; the object being first to finish the destruction of the christian Indians, at their new establishment, on the Sandusky, & then destroy the Wyandot towns on the same river.
The long continuance of the Indian war, the many murders & barbarities committed upon the frontiers, had so wrought upon the inhabitants, as to create an indiscriminate thirst for revenge. Having had a taste of blood & plunder, in their recent expedition, without loss or danger on their part, it was now determined not to spare the lives of any Indians who might fall into their hands, whether friends or foes. On the 25th of May, 1782, four hundred & eighty men, principally from the upper Ohio, assembled at the Old Mingo towns, near the site of Steubenville. At this place, they chose Col. Wm. Crawford commander, his competitor being Col. Williamson. Crawford* accepted the office with great reluctance. Soon after, his men exhibited such an utter disregard to military order, that he was depressed with a presentiment of evil. Notwithstanding the secrecy & dispatch of the enterprise, the Indian spies discovered their rendezvous, on the Mingo Bottom, knew their number & destination. They visited every encampment on their leaving it, & saw written on the barks of trees & scraps of paper, that " no quarter was to be given to any Indian, whether man, woman or child." Their route was by the "Williamson trail," through the burnt Moravian towns. On the 6th of June, they arrived at the site of the Moravian villages, on a branch of the Sandusky. Here, instead of meeting with Indians & Elunder, they found nothing but vestiges of desolation. A few huts, surrounded by high grass, alone remained; their intended victims having, some time before, moved to the Scioto, some eighteen miles south. A council then decided to march on north one day longer, & if then, no Indian towns were reached, to retreat. About 2 o'clock, the next day, while on their march through the Sandusky plains, the advanced guard were driven in by Indians concealed in great numbers in the high grass. The action then became general, & the firing was incessant & heavy until dark, for In this battle, the whites had the advantage, & lost but a few men. The Indians were driven from the woods & prevented from gaining a strong position on the right flank, by the vigilance & bravery of Major Leet. During the night, both armies lay upon their arms behind a line of fires, to prevent surprise. The next day, the Indians were seen in large bodies traversing the plains, while others were busy carrying off their dead & wounded. At a council of officers, Col. Williamson proposed marching, with one hundred & fifty volunteers, to upper Sandusky; but the commander opposed it, stating that the Indians, whose numbers were hourly increasing, would attack & conquer their divided forces in detail. The dead were buried, & preparations made for a retreat after dark. The Indians perceiving their intention, about sunset, attacked them with great fury in all directions, except that of Sandusky. In the course of the night, the army commenced their retreat, regained their old trail by a circuitous route, & continued on with but slight annoyance from the enemy. Unfortunately, when the retreat commenced, a large number erroneously judging that the Indians would follow the main body, broke off into small parties & made their way toward their homes, in different directions. These the Indians, for days, pursued in detachments, with such activity that but very few escaped, some being killed almost within sight of the Ohio River.
{Col. W. Crawford was a native of Virginia, but at this time was residing near Brownsville, Pa. He was a captain in the old French war, & in the revolution, raised a regiment of continentals by his own exertions. He was an intimate friend of Washington a man of character, & of noted bravery. At this time, he was about fifty years of age. The battle was fought three miles north of upper Sandusky. The large tree on the right of the engraving (Eng. p. 110) & others in the vicinity, even to the present day, show marks of the bullets.}
Soon after the retreat began, Col. Crawford having missed his son & several of his connections, halted & unsuccessfully searched the line for them as it passed on, & then, owing to the weariness of his horse, was unable to overtake the retreating army. Falling in company with Dr. Knight & others, they kept on until the third day, when they were attacked, & Crawford & Knight captured. They were taken to an Indian encampment in the vicinity, where they found nine other prisoners, & all, the next morning, were conducted toward the Tyemochte, by Pipe & Wingenund, Delaware chiefs, except four of them, who were killed & scalped on the way. At a Delaware town on the Tyemochte, a few miles northwesterly from the site of upper Sandusky, preparations were made for the burning of Col. Crawford. In the vicinity, the remaining five of the nine prisoners were tomahawked & scalped by squaws & boys. Crawford's son & son-in-law were executed at a Shawanese town. The account of the burning of Crawford is thus given by Dr. Knight, his companion, who subsequently escaped. When we went to the fire, the colonel was stripped naked, ordered to sit down by the fire, & then they beat him with sticks & their fists. Presently after, I was treated in the same manner. They then tied a rope to the foot of a post about fifteen feet high, bound the colonel's hands behind his back & fastened the rope to the ligature between his wrists. The rope was long enough for him to sit down or walk round the post once or twice, & return the same way. The colonel then called to Girty, & asked if they intended to burn him? Girty answered, yes. The colonel said he would take it all patiently. Upon this, Captain Pipe, a Delaware chief, made a speech to the Indians, viz: about thirty or forty men, & sixty or seventy squaws & boys. When the speech was finished, they all yelled a hideous & hearty assent to what had been said. The Indian men then took up their guns & shot powder into the colonel's body, from his feet as far up as his neck. I think that not less than seventy loads were discharged upon his naked body. They then crowded about him, & to the best of my observation, cut off his ears; when the throng had dispersed a little, I saw the blood running from both sides of his head in consequence thereof. The fire was about six or seven yards from the post to which the colonel was tied; it was made of small hickory poles, burnt quite through in the middle, each end of the poles remaining about six feet in length. Three or four Indians, by turns, would take up, individually, one of these burning pieces of wood, & apply it to his naked body, already burnt black with the powder. These tormentors presented themselves on every side of him with the burning fagots & poles. Some of the squaws took broad boards, upon which they would carry a quantity of burning coals & hot embers, & throw on him, so that in a short time, he had nothing but coals of fire & hot ashes to walk upon. In the midst of these extreme tortures, he called to Simon Girty, & begged of him to shoot him; but Girty making no answer, he called to him again. Girty then, by way of derision, told the colonel he had no gun, at the same time turning about to an Indian who was behind him, laughed heartily, & by all his gestures, seemed delighted at the horrid scene. Girty then came up to me & bade me prepare for death. He said, however, I was not to die at that place, but to be burnt at the Shawanese towns. He swore by G d I need not expect to escape death, but should suffer it in all its extremities. Col. Crawford, at this period of his sufferings, besought the Almighty to have mercy on his soul, spoke very low, & bore his torments with the most manly fortitude.
He continued in all the extremities of pain for an hour & hour & three quarters or two hours longer, as near as I can judge, when at last, being almost exhausted, he lay down on his belly; they then scalped him, & repeatedly threw the scalp in my face, telling me, " that was my great captain." An old squaw (whose appearance every way answered the ideas people entertain of the devil) got a board, took a parcel of coals & ashes & laid them on his back & head, after he had been scalped; he then raised himself upon his feet & began to walk round the post; they next put a burning stick to him, as usual, but he seemed more insensible of pain than before. The Indian fellow who had me in charge, now took me away to Captain Pipes house, about three-quarters of a mile from the place of the colonel's execution. I was bound all night, & thus prevented from seeing the last of the horrid spectacle. Next morning, being June 12th, the Indian untied me, painted me Black, & we set off for the Snawanese town, which he told me was somewhat less than forty miles distant from that place. We soon came to the spot where the colonel had been burnt, as it was partly in our way; I saw his bones lying among the remains of the fire, almost burnt to ashes; I suppose, after he was dead, they laid his body on the fire. The Indian told me that was my big captain, & gave the scalp halloo. Most of the prisoners taken in this campaign, were burned to death, with cruel tortures, in retaliation for the massacre of the Moravian Indians, who were principally Delaware's. This invasion was the last made from the region of the upper Ohio during the war. But the Indians, encouraged by their successes, overran these settlements with scalping parties. In September, three hundred Indians, for three days, unsuccessfully invested the fort at Wheeling. A detachment of one hundred of these, made an attack upon Rice's Fort, twelve miles north. Although defended by only 6 men, they were obliged to retire with loss.
