| Mary Jemison, Captivity Narrative from the 1750s (1824) Mary Jemison, CaptivityNarrative from the 1750s (1824).[Mary Jemison was probablyabout 15 years old when she was captured and adopted by SenecaIndians in the late 1750s (during the Seven Years War or "French andIndian War"). Although written in the first person, Jemison was 80years old and illiterate when she was interviewed by James Seaver whowrote the narrative. Although mediated by another person, thisnarrative does give us a glimpse of the voice of an English woman whochose to remain and live within the Indian culture into which she hadbeen adopted.] Chapter 3.The night was spent in gloomyforebodings. What the result of our captivity would be, it was out ofour power to determine, or even imagine. At times, we could almostrealize the approach of our masters to butcher and scalp us; again,we could nearly see the pile of wood kindled on which we were to beroasted; and then we would imagine ourselves at liberty, alone anddefenseless in the forest, surrounded by wild beasts that were readyto devour us. The anxiety of our minds drove sleep from our eyelids;and it was with a dreadful hope and painful impatience that we waitedfor the morning to determine our fate.The morning at length arrived,and our masters came early and let us out of the house, and gave theyoung man and boy to the French, who immediately took them away.Their fate I never learned, as I have not seen nor heard of themsince.I was now left alone in the fort,deprived of my former companions, and of every thing that was near ordear to me but life. But it was not long before I was in some measurerelieved by the appearance of two pleasant looking squaws, of theSeneca tribe, who came and examined me attentively for a short time,and then went out. After a few minutes' absence, they returned incompany with my former masters, who gave me to the squaws to disposeof as they pleased.The Indians by whom I was takenwere a party of Shawnees,* if I remember right, that lived, when athome, a long distance down the Ohio.My former Indian masters and thetwo squaws were soon ready to leave the fort, and accordinglyembarked -- the Indians in a large canoe, and the two squaws andmyself in a small one-and went down the Ohio. When we set off, anIndian in the forward canoe took the scalps of my former friends,strung them on a pole that he placed upon his shoulder, and in thatmanner carried them, standing in the stern of the canoe directlybefore us, as we sailed down the river, to the town where the twosquaws resided.On the way we passed a Shawneetown, where I saw a number of heads, arms, legs, and other fragmentsof the bodies of some white people who had just been burned. Theparts that remained were hanging on a pole, which was supported ateach end by a crotch stuck in the ground, and were roasted or burntblack as a coal. The fire was yet burning; and the whole appearanceafforded a spectacle so shocking that even to this day the bloodalmost curdles in my veins when I think of them.At night we arrived at a smallSeneca Indian town, at the mouth of a small river that was called bythe Indians, in the Seneca language, She-nan-jee, about eighty milesby water from the fort, where the two squaws to whom I belongedresided. There we landed, and the Indians went on; which was the lastI ever saw of them.Having made fast to the shore,the squaws left me in the canoe while they went to their wigwam orhouse in the town, and returned with a suit of Indian clothing, allnew, and very clean and nice. My clothes, though whole and good whenI was taken, were now torn in pieces, so that I was almost naked.They first undressed me, and threw my rags into the river; thenwashed me clean and dressed me in the new suit they had just brought,in complete Indian style; and then led me home and seated me in thecenter of their wigwam.I had been in that situation buta few minutes before all the squaws in the town came in to see me. Iwas soon surrounded by them, and they immediately set up a mostdismal howling, crying bitterly, and wringing their hands in all theagonies of grief for a deceased relative.Their tears flowed freely, andthey exhibited all the signs of real mourning. At the commencement ofthis scene, one of their number began, in a voice somewhat betweenspeaking and singing, to recite some words to the following purport,and continued the recitation till the ceremony was ended; the companyat the same time varying the appearance of their countenances,gestures, and tone of voice, so as to correspond with the sentimentsexpressed by their leader."Oh, our brother! alas! he isdead-he has gone; he will never return! Friendless he died on thefield of the slain, where his bones are yet lying unburied! Oh! whowill not mourn his sad fate? No tears dropped around him: oh, no! Notears of his sisters were there! He fell in his prime, when his armwas most needed to keep us from danger! Alas! he has gone, and leftus in sorrow, his loss to bewail! Oh, where is his spirit? His spiritwent naked, and hungry it wanders, and thirsty and wounded, it groansto return! Oh, helpless and wretched, our brother has gone! Noblanket nor food to nourish and warm him; nor candles to light him,nor weapons of war! Oh, none of those comforts had he! But well weremember his deeds! The deer he could take on the chase! The panthershrunk back at the sight of his strength! His enemies fell at hisfeet! He was brave and courageous in war! As the fawn, he washarmless; his friendship was ardent; his temper was gentle; his pitywas great! Oh! our friend, our companion, is dead! Our brother, ourbrother! alas, he is gone! But why do we grieve for his loss? In thestrength of a warrior, undaunted he left us, to fight by the side ofthe chiefs! His warwhoop was shrill! His rifle well aimed laid hisenemies low: his tomahawk drank of their blood: and his knife flayedtheir scalps while yet covered with gore! And why do we mourn? Thoughhe fell on the field of the slain, with glory he fell; and his spiritwent up to the land of his fathers in war! They why do we mourn? Withtransports of joy, they received him, and fed him, and clothed him,and welcomed him there! Oh, friends, he is happy; then dry up yourtears! His spirit has seen our distress, and sent us a helper whomwith pleasure we greet. Deh-hew5-mis has come: then let us receiveher with joy!-she is handsome and pleasant! Oh! she is our sister,and gladly we welcome her here. In the place of our brother shestands in our tribe. With care we will guard her from trouble; andmay she be happy till her spirit shall leave us."In the course of that ceremony,from mourning they became serene,-joy sparkled in their countenances,and they seemed to rejoice over me as over a long-lost child. I wasmade welcome among them as a sister to the two squaws beforementioned, and was called Deh-hew5-mis; which, being interpreted,signifies a pretty girl, a handsome girl, or a pleasant, good thing.That is the name by which I have ever since been called by theIndians.I afterward learned that theceremony I at that time passed through was that of adoption. The twosquaws had lost a brother in Washington's war, sometime in the yearbefore, and in consequence of his death went up to Fort Du Quesne onthe day on which I arrived there, in order to receive a prisoner, oran enemy's scalp, to supply their loss. It is a custom of theIndians, when one of their number is slain or taken prisoner inbattle, to give to the nearest relative of the dead or absent aprisoner, if they have chanced to take one; and if not, to give himthe scalp of an enemy. On the return of the Indians from theconquest, which is always announced by peculiar shoutings,demonstrations of joy, and the exhibition of some trophy of victory,the mourners come forward and make their claims. If they receive aprisoner, it is at their option either to satiate their vengeance bytaking his life in the most cruel manner they can conceive of, or toreceive and adopt him into the family, in the place of him whom theyhave lost. All the prisoners that are taken in battle and carried tothe encampment or town by the Indians are given to the bereavedfamilies, till their number is good. And unless the mourners have butjust received the news of their bereavement, and are under theoperation of a paroxysm of grief, anger, or revenge; or, unless theprisoner is very old, sickly, or homely, they generally save them,and treat them kindly. But if their mental wound is fresh, their lossso great that they deem it irreparable, or if their prisoner orprisoners do not meet their approbation, no torture, let it be everso cruel, seems sufficient to make them satisfaction. It is familyand not national sacrifices among the Indians, that has given them anindelible stamp as barbarians, and identified their character withthe idea which is generally formed of unfeeling ferocity and the mostbarbarous cruelty.It was my happy lot to beaccepted for adoption. At the time of the ceremony I was received bythe two squaws to supply the place of their brother in the family;and I was ever considered and treated by them as a real sister, thesame as though I had been born of their mother.During the ceremony of myadoption, I sat motionless, nearly terrified to death at theappearance and actions of the company, expecting every moment to feeltheir vengeance, and suffer death on the spot. I was, however,happily disappointed; when at the close of the ceremony the companyretired, and my sisters commenced employing every means for myconsolation and comfort.Being now settled and providedwith a home, I was employed in nursing the children, and doing lightwork about the house. Occasionally, I was sent out with the Indianhunters, when they went but a short distance, to help them carrytheir game. My situation was easy; I had no particular hardships toendure. But still, the recollection of my parents, my brothers andsisters, my home, and my own captivity, destroyed my happiness, andmade me constantly solitary, lonesome, and gloomy.My sisters would not allow me tospeak English in their hearing; but remembering the charge that mydear mother gave me at the time I left her, whenever I chanced to bealone I made a business of repeating my prayer, catechism, orsomething I had learned, in order that I might not forget my ownlanguage. By practicing in that way, I retained it till I came toGenesee flats, where I soon became acquainted with English people,with whom I have been almost daily in the habit of conversing.My sisters were very diligent inteaching me their language; and to their great satisfaction, I soonlearned so that I could understand it readily, and speak it fluently.I was very fortunate in falling into their hands; for they were kind,good-natured women; peaceable and mild in their dispositions;temperate and decent in their habits, and very tender and gentletoward me. I have great reason to respect them, though they have beendead a great number of years.Chapter 7. After the conclusion of theFrench war, our tribe had nothing to do till the commencement of theAmerican Revolution. For twelve or fifteen years, the use of theimplements of war was not known, nor the warwhoop heard, save on daysof festivity, when the achievements of former times were commemoratedin a kind of mimic warfare, in which the chiefs, and warriorsdisplayed their prowess, and illustrated their former adroitness, bylaying the ambuscade, surprising their enemies, and performing manyaccurate maneuvers with the tomahawk and scalping knife; therebypreserving, and banding to their children, the theory of Indianwarfare. During that period they also pertinaciously observed thereligious rites of their progenitors, by attending with the mostscrupulous exactness, and a great degree of enthusiasm, to thesacrifices, at particular times, to appease the anger of the EvilDeity; or to excite the commiseration of the Great Good Spirit, whomthey adored with reverence, as the author, governor, supporter, anddisposer of every good thing of which they participated.They also practiced in variousathletic games, such as running, wrestling, leaping, and playingball, with a view that their bodies might be more supple -- or,rather, that they might not become enervated, and that they might beenabled to make a proper selection of chiefs for the councils of thenation, and leaders for war.While the Indians were thusengaged in their round of traditionary performances, with theaddition of hunting, their women attended to agriculture, theirfamilies, and a few domestic concerns of small consequence andattended with but little labor.No people can live more happythan the Indians did in times of peace, before the introduction ofspiritous liquors among them. Their lives were a continual round ofpleasures. Their wants were few, and easily satisfied, and theircares were only for to-day -- the bounds of their calculation forfuture comfort not extending to the incalculable uncertainties ofto-morrow. If peace ever dwelt with men, it was in former times, inthe recess from war, among what are now termed barbarians. The moralcharacter of the Indians was (if I may be allowed the expression)uncontaminated. Their fidelity was perfect, and became proverbial.They were strictly honest; they despised deception and falsehood; andchastity was held in high 'veneration, and a violation of it wasconsidered sacrilege. They were temperate in their desires, moderatein their passions, and candid and honorable in the expression oftheir sentiments, on every subject of importance.Thus, at peace among themselvesand with the neighboring whites -though there were none at that timevery near- our Indians lived quietly and peaceably at home, till alittle before the breaking out of the Revolutionary War, . . . Chapter 9.Soon after the close of theRevolutionary War, my Indian brother, Kau-jises-tau-ge-au, (whichbeing interpreted signifies Black Coals,) offered me my liberty, andtold me that if it was my choice I might go to my friends.My son Thomas was anxious that Ishould go; and offered to go with me, and assist me on the journey,by taking care of the younger children, and providing food as wetraveled through the wilderness. But the chiefs of our tribe,suspecting, from his appearance, actions, and a few warlike exploits,that Thomas would be a great warrior, or a good counselor, refused tolet him leave them on any account whatever.To go myself, and leave him, wasmore than I felt able to do; for he had been kind to me, and was oneon whom I placed great dependence. The chiefs refusing to let him gowas one reason for my resolving to stay; but another, more powerfulif possible, was, that I had got a large family of Indian childrenthat I must take with me; and that, if I should be so fortunate as tofind my relatives, they would despise them, if not myself, and treatus as enemies, or, at least, with a degree of cold indifference,which I thought I could not endure.Accordingly, after I had dulyconsidered the matter, I told my brother that it was my choice tostay and spend the remainder of my days with my Indian friends, andlive with my family as I hitherto had done. He appeared well pleasedwith my resolution, and informed me that, as that was my choice, Ishould have a piece of land that I could call my own, where I couldlive unmolested, and have something at my decease to leave for thebenefit of my children.Source: James E. Seaver, The Life of Mary Jemison: The White Woman of theGenesee (1824; 5th edition, NewYork, 1877).[Backto History 41 Syllabus] |
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