Another Family Affliction.--Her son John's Occupation.--He goes to
Buffalo--Returns.--Great Slide by him considered Ominous--Trouble,
&c.--He goes to Squawky Hill--Quarrels--Is murdered by two Indians.--His
Funeral--Mourners, &c.--His Disposition.--Ominous Dream.--Black Chief's
Advice, &c.--His Widows and Family.--His Age.--His Murderers flee.--Her
Advice to them.--They set out to leave their Country.--Their Uncle's
Speech to them on parting.--They return.--Jack proposes to Doctor to
kill each other.--Doctor's Speech in Reply.--Jack's Suicide.--Doctor's
Death.
Trouble seldom comes single. While George Jemison was busily engaged
in his pursuit of wealth at my expence, another event of a much more
serious nature occurred, which added greatly to my afflictions, and
consequently destroyed, at least a part of the happiness that I had
anticipated was laid up in the archives of Providence, to be dispensed
on my old age.
My son John, was a doctor, considerably celebrated amongst the Indians
of various tribes, for his skill in curing their diseases, by the
administration of roots and herbs, which he gathered in the forests, and
other places where they had been planted by the hand of nature.
In the month of April, or first of May, 1817, he was called upon to go
to Buffalo, Cattaraugus and Allegany, to cure some who were sick. He
went, and was absent about two months. When he returned, he observed
the Great Slide of the bank of Genesee river, a short distance above
my house, which had taken place during his absence; and conceiving
that circumstance to be ominous of his own death, called at his sister
Nancy's, told her that he should live but a few days, and wept bitterly
at the near approach of his dissolution. Nancy endeavored to persuade
him that his trouble was imaginary, and that he ought not to be affected
by a fancy which was visionary. Her arguments were ineffectual, and
afforded no alleviation to his mental sufferings. From his sister's, he
went to his own house, where he stayed only two nights, and then went to
Squawky Hill to procure money, with which to purchase flour for the use
of his family.
While at Squawky Hill he got into the company of two Squawky Hill
Indians, whose names were Doctor and Jack, with whom he drank freely,
and in the afternoon had a desperate quarrel, in which his opponents,
(as it was afterwards understood,) agreed to kill him. The quarrel
ended, and each appeared to be friendly. John bought some spirits, of
which they all drank, and then set out for home. John and an Allegany
Indian were on horseback, and Doctor and Jack were on foot. It was dark
when they set out. They had not proceeded far, when Doctor and Jack
commenced another quarrel with John, clenched and dragged him off his
horse, and then with a stone gave him so severe a blow on his head, that
some of his brains were discharged from the wound. The Allegany Indian,
fearing that his turn would come next, fled for safety as fast as
possible.
John recovered a little from the shock he had received, and endeavored
to get to an old hut that stood near; but they caught him, and with an
axe cut his throat, and beat out his brains, so that when he was found
the contents of his skull were lying on his arms.
Some squaws, who heard the uproar, ran to find out the cause of it; but
before they had time to offer their assistance, the murderers drove them
into a house, and threatened to take their lives if they did not stay
there, or if they made any noise.
Next morning, Esq. Clute sent me word that John was dead, and also
informed me of the means by which his life was taken. A number of
people went from Gardow to where the body lay, and Doct. Levi Brundridge
brought it up home, where the funeral was attended after the manner of
the white people. Mr. Benjamin Luther, and Mr. William Wiles, preached
a sermon, and performed the funeral services; and myself and family
followed the corpse to the grave as mourners. I had now buried my three
sons, who had been snatched from me by the hands of violence, when I
least expected it.
Although John had taken the life of his two brothers, and caused me
unspeakable trouble and grief, his death made a solemn impression upon
my mind, and seemed, in addition to my former misfortunes, enough to
bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. Yet, on a second
thought, I could not mourn for him as I had for my other sons, because I
knew that his death was just, and what he had deserved for a long time,
from the hand of justice.
John's vices were so great and so aggravated, that I have nothing to say
in his favor: yet, as a mother, I pitied him while he lived, and have
ever felt a great degree of sorrow for him, because of his bad conduct.
From his childhood, he carried something in his features indicative of
an evil disposition, that would result in the perpetration of enormities
of some kind; and it was the opinion and saying of Ebenezer Allen, that
he would be a bad man, and be guilty of some crime deserving of death.
There is no doubt but what the thoughts of murder rankled in his breast,
and disturbed his mind even in his sleep; for he dreamed that he had
killed Thomas for a trifling offence, and thereby forfeited his own
life. Alarmed at the revelation, and fearing that he might in some
unguarded moment destroy his brother, he went to the Black Chief, to
whom he told the dream, and expressed his fears that the vision would
be verified. Having related the dream, together with his feelings on the
subject, he asked for the best advice that his old friend was capable
of giving, to prevent so sad an event. The Black Chief, with his usual
promptitude, told him, that from the nature of the dream, he was fearful
that something serious would take place between him and Thomas; and
advised him by all means to govern his temper, and avoid any quarrel
which in future he might see arising, especially if Thomas was a party.
John, however, did not keep the good counsel of the Chief; for soon
after he killed Thomas, as I have related.
John left two wives with whom he had lived at the same time, and raised
nine children. His widows are now living at Caneadea with their father,
and keep their children with, and near them. His children are tolerably
white, and have got light colored hair. John died about the last day of
June, 1817, aged 54 years.
Doctor and Jack, having finished their murderous design, fled before
they could be apprehended, and lay six weeks in the woods back of
Canisteo. They then returned and sent me some wampum by Chongo, (my
son-in-law,) and Sun-ge-waw (that is Big Kettle) expecting that I would
pardon them, and suffer them to live as they had done with their
tribe. I however, would not accept their wampum, but returned it with
a request, that, rather than have them killed, they would run away and
keep out of danger.
On their receiving back the wampum, they took my advice, and prepared to
leave their country and people immediately. Their relatives accompanied
them a short distance on their journey, and when about to part, their
old uncle, the Tall Chief, addressed them in the following pathetic and
sentimental speech:
"Friends, hear my voice!--When the Great Spirit made Indians, he made
them all good, and gave them good corn-fields; good rivers, well stored
with fish; good forests, filled with game and good bows and arrows. But
very soon each wanted more than his share, and Indians quarrelled with
Indians, and some were killed, and others were wounded. Then the Great
Spirit made a very good word, and put it in every Indians breast, to
tell us when we have done good, or when we have done bad; and that word
has never told a lie.
"Friends! whenever you have stole, or got drunk, or lied, that good
word has told you that you were bad Indians, and made you afraid of good
Indians; and made you ashamed and look down.
"Friends! your crime is greater than all those:--you have killed an
Indian in a time of peace; and made the wind hear his groans, and
the earth drink his blood. You are bad Indians! Yes, you are very bad
Indians; and what can you do? If you go into the woods to live alone,
the ghost of John Jemison will follow you, crying, blood! blood! and
will give you no peace! If you go to the land of your nation, there that
ghost will attend you, and say to your relatives, see my murderers!
If you plant, it will blast your corn; if you hunt, it will scare your
game; and when you are asleep, its groans, and the sight of an avenging
tomahawk, will awake you! What can you do? Deserving of death, you
cannot live here; and to fly from your country, to leave all your
relatives, and to abandon all that you have known to be pleasant and
dear, must be keener than an arrow, more bitter than gall, more terrible
than death! And how must we feel?--Your path will be muddy; the woods
will be dark; the lightnings will glance down the trees by your side,
and you will start at every sound! peace has left you, and you must be
wretched.
"Friends, hear me, and take my advice. Return with us to your homes.
Offer to the Great Spirit your best wampum, and try to be good Indians!
And, if those whom you have bereaved shall claim your lives as their
only satisfaction, surrender them cheerfully, and die like good Indians.
And--" Here Jack, highly incensed, interrupted the old man, and bade him
stop speaking or he would take his life. Affrighted at the appearance of
so much desperation, the company hastened towards home, and left Doctor
and Jack to consult their own feelings.
As soon as they were alone, Jack said to Doctor, "I had rather die here,
than leave my country and friends! Put the muzzle of your rifle into
my mouth, and I will put the muzzle of mine into yours, and at a given
signal we will discharge them, and rid ourselves at once of all the
troubles under which we now labor, and satisfy the claims which justice
holds against us."
Doctor heard the proposition, and after a moment's pause, made the
following reply:--"I am as sensible as you can be of the unhappy
situation in which we have placed ourselves. We are bad Indians. We have
forfeited our lives, and must expect in some way to atone for our crime:
but, because we are bad and miserable, shall we make ourselves worse?
If we were now innocent, and in a calm reflecting moment should kill
ourselves, that act would make us bad, and deprive us of our share of
the good hunting in the land where our fathers have gone! What would
Little Beard [Footnote: Little Bears was a Chief who died in 1806.] say
to us on our arrival at his cabin? He would say, 'Bad Indians! Cowards!
You were afraid to wait till we wanted your help! Go (Jogo) to where
snakes will lie in your path; where the panthers will starve you, by
devouring the venison; and where you will be naked and suffer with the
cold! Jogo, (go,) none but the brave and good Indians live here!' I
cannot think of performing an act that will add to my wretchedness.
It is hard enough for me to suffer here, and have good hunting
hereafter--worse to lose the whole."
Upon this, Jack withdrew his proposal. They went on about two miles, and
then turned about and came home. Guilty and uneasy, they lurked about
Squawky Hill near a fortnight, and then went to Cattaraugus, and were
gone six weeks. When they came back, Jack's wife earnestly requested
him to remove his family to Tonnewonta; but he remonstrated against her
project, and utterly declined going. His wife and family, however, tired
of the tumult by which they were surrounded, packed up their effects in
spite of what he could say, and went off.
Jack deliberated a short time upon the proper course for himself to
pursue, and finally, rather than leave his old home, he ate a large
quantity of muskrat root, and died in 10 or 12 hours. His family being
immediately notified of his death, returned to attend the burial, and is
yet living at Squawky Hill.
Nothing was ever done with Doctor, who continued to live quietly
at Squawky Hill till sometime in the year 1819, when he died of
Consumption.