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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