Simon Kenton, _alias_ Butler, from humble beginnings, made himself
conspicuous by distinguished services and achievements, in the first
settlement of this country, and ought to be recorded as one of the
patriarchs of Kentucky. He was born in Virginia, in 1753. He grew
to maturity without being able to read or write; but from his early
exploits, he seems to have been endowed with feelings, which the
educated, and those born in the upper walks of life appear to suppose
a monopoly reserved for themselves. It is recorded of him, that at the
age of nineteen he had a violent contest with another competitor for the
favour of the lady of his love. She refused to make an election between
them; and the subject of this notice indignantly exiled himself from
his native place. After various peregrinations on the long rivers of
the west, he fixed himself in Kentucky, and soon became a distinguished
partizan against the savages. In 1774, he joined himself to Lord Dunmore,
and was appointed one of his spies. He made various excursions, and
performed important services in this employ. He finally selected a place
for improvement on the site where Washington now is. Returning one day
from hunting, he found one of his companions slain by the Indians, and
his body thrown into the fire. He left Washington in consequence, and
joined himself to Colonel Clark in his fortunate and gallant expedition
against Vincennes and Kaskaskia. He was sent by that commander with
despatches for Kentucky. He passed through the streets of Vincennes, then
in possession of the British and Indians, without discovery. Arriving at
White river, he and his party made a raft, on which to cross with their
guns and baggage, driving their horses into the river, and compelling
them to swim it. A party of Indians was concealed on the opposite bank,
who took possession of the horses as they mounted the bank, after
crossing the river. Butler and his company seeing this, continued
to float down the river on their raft, without coming to land. They
concealed themselves in the bushes until night, when they crossed the
river, pursued their journey, and delivered their despatches.
After this, Butler made a journey of discovery to the northern regions
of the Ohio country, and was made prisoner by the Indians. They painted
him black, as is their custom, when a victim is devoted to torture; and
informed him that he was destined to be burned at Chillicothe. Meanwhile,
for their own amusement, and as a prelude to his torture, they manacled
him hand and foot, placed him on an unbridled and unbroken horse, and
turned the animal loose, driving it off at its utmost speed, with shouts,
delighted with witnessing its mode of managing under its living burden.
The horse, unable to shake off this new and strange incumbrance, made
for the thickest covert of woods and brambles, with the speed of the
winds. It is easy to conjecture the position and sufferings of the
victim. The terrified animal exhausted itself in fruitless efforts to
shake off its load, and worn down and subdued, brought Butler back to the
camp amidst the exulting yells of the savages.
Having arrived within a mile of Chillicothe, they halted, took Butler
from his horse, and tied him to a stake, where he remained twenty-four
hours in one position. He was taken from the stake to ‘run the gauntlet.’
The Indian mode of managing this kind of torture was as follows: The
inhabitants of the tribe, old and young, were placed in parallel lines,
armed with clubs and switches. The victim was to make his way to the
council house, through these files, every member of which struggled
to beat him, as he passed, as severely as possible. If he reached the
council house alive, he was to be spared. In the lines were nearly six
hundred Indians, and Butler had to make his way almost a mile in the
endurance of this infernal sport. He was started by a blow; but soon
broke through the files, and had almost reached the council house, when
a stout warrior knocked him down with a club. He was severely beaten in
this position, and taken back again into custody.
It seems incredible, that they sometimes rescued their prisoners from
these tortures, adopted them, and treated them with the utmost lenity
and even kindness. At other times, ingenuity was exhausted to invent
tortures, and every renewed endurance of the victim seemed to stimulate
their vengeance to new discoveries of cruelty. Butler was one of these
ill-fated subjects. No way satisfied with what they had done, they
marched him from village to village, to give all a spectacle of his
sufferings. He ran the gauntlet thirteen times. He made various attempts
to escape; and in one instance would have effected it, had he not been
arrested by some savages who were accidentally returning to the village
from which he was escaping. It was finally determined to burn him at the
lower Sandusky, but an apparent accident changed his destiny.
In passing to the stake, the procession went by the cabin of Simon Girty,
who had just returned from an unsuccessful expedition to the frontiers
of Pennsylvania. The wretch burned with disappointment and revenge; and
hearing that there was a white man going to the torture, determined to
wreak his vengeance on him. He found the unfortunate Butler, threw him
to the ground, and began to beat him. Butler, who instantly recognized
in Girty a former companion of his youth, made himself known to him.
His savage heart relented. He raised him up, and promised to use his
influence to save him. Girty had a council called, and he moved the
savages to give Butler up to him. He took the unfortunate man home,
fed, and clothed him, and Butler began to recruit from his wounds
and torture. But the relenting of the savages in his favour was only
momentary. After five days, they repented of their relaxation in his
favour, reclaimed him, and marched him to Lower Sandusky to be burned,
according to their original purpose. By a surprising coincidence, he
there met the Indian agent from Detroit, who from motives of humanity,
exerted his influence with the savages for his release, and took him with
him to Detroit. Here he was paroled by the governor. He escaped, and by a
march of thirty days through the wilderness, reached Kentucky.
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