Israel Donalson
Israel Donalson was born in Hunterdon County, New Jersey, February 2, 1767. His father moved to the County of Cumberland, in the same State, where he received his education. While too young to take any part in the Revolutionary War, he remembered much of it. It seemed he obtained a fair education prior to his twentieth year. In 1787, he left his home in New Jersey for the West, traveling alone and unaided. He first located in Ohio County, Virginia, where he remained until the Spring of 1790. In this time, he farmed, taught school and acted as Indian ranger and scout. In May, 1790, he went down the river on a flat-boat accompanied by a fleet of the same kind, and reached Maysville on June 1st. During that summer, he taught school at Maysville. That winter he formed the acquaintance of General Nathaniel Massie and in the Spring of 1791, went to reside in the Stockade at Manchester. In April, 1791, he, Nathaniel Massie and James Tittle went up the river in a canoe with a surveyor's chain and compass to do some surveying. They got ashore just below Wrightsville, near a large mound which stood on the river bank, but is now washed away by the river. There they discovered two canoe loads of Indians, almost in shore. The Indians discovered them at the same time. Donalson and his two companions started to run. He was in the rear, and as he went to jump a branch his foot caught in a root and he fell forward. Before he could rise, three Indians were upon him, and he was a captive. The Indians started on a march with him, and marched all day and for two or three days when they reached the camp of their tribe. Here they began to make an Indian of him, by training his hair Indian fashion, with turkey feathers and putting an Indian jewel in his nose. After he had been with them several days, he determined to escape, come what would. He slept between two Indians, securely tied, but he gnawed his thongs loose and crawled away one morning about daybreak. The Indians discovered his escape almost immediately, and pursued, but he escaped without arms of any kind. He reached Fort Washington about May 1st. He first met Mr. Wm. Woodward, for whom the Woodward High School is named, who took him to the Fort. Here he remained several weeks when he returned to Limestone and afterwards to Manchester.
Mr. Donalson was well qualified for a school teacher before leaving New Jersey. He took up this occupation at Manchester as soon as there was a call for a teacher, and he followed that with surveying, which he had also studied in the East, more or less all his life. He was in Wayne's Campaign against the Indians in 1794.
He married Miss Annie Pennyweight on Nevember 15, 1798, and had to go to Kentucky for that purpose, as there were no legal authorities to solemnize marriages in that part of the Northwest Territory at that time.
In 1802, Mr. Donalson was elected one of three delegates from Adams County to the first Constitutional Convention of Ohio. His associates were Joseph Darlinton and Thomas Kirker. The Convention met in Chillicothe on November 1, 1802, and was in session until November 29th, when it completed its work. The journal of the Convention is very meagre, as nearly all the work was done in committee of the whole and no record kept. On the question of inviting Governor St. Clair to address the Convention, he and his two associates voted "no," but the affirmative carried it nineteen to fourteen. He usually voted with his colleagues on all questions. On the question of a poll-tax, he voted "no," as did his colleagues. On the question of allowing negroes and mulattoes to vote, he, Kirker and Massie voted "no," while Byrd and Darlinton voted "yes." He, also, with Kirker, Byrd and Darlinton voted "no" to the proposition of forbidding negroes and mulattoes to hold office in the State, or to testify against a white man. On the last day, sixty copies of the journal of the Convention and eighty-eight copies of the Constitution were ordered delivered to Israel Donalson for Adams County. We would like to know what became of the seven hundred copies of the journal ordered printed. Only four are now known to be in existence out of that number. Of those delivered to Mr. Donalson for distribution, none are now known to be in existence.
Israel Donalson was appointed postmaster at Manchester in 1801, and served until September 27, 1813. In 1808, he started a carding-mill in Manchester, but it does not appear how long he operated it. In the War of 1812, he went out in the general call for troops.
He was a resident of Manchester all his life, and was a devout member of and a ruling elder in the Presbyterian Church of that place. He was Clerk of the Session for many years, and the records appear in his very clear hand. He was also frequently a delegate to the Presbytery of Chillicothe, which he first attended at Red Oak in 1825, and on September 4 and 5, 1849, he was last present at Eckmansville. Altogether he attended the Presbytery some nineteen times.
In 1847. there were but five survivors of the Constitutional Convention of 1802 living. Ephriam Cutler, of Washington County; Jeremiah Morrow, of Hamilton; John Reiley, of Butler; General Darlinton and Israel Donalson, of Adams. Cutler wrote a letter to each of the other four, and received an answer from each. Donalson's letter is dated May 20, 1847. He condemned the Mexican War then in progress. He wrote to Judge Cutler again on August 1, 1848. He spoke of his captivity among the Indians lasting a week and says from that day to this "my life has been one of turmoil." He says he has met with pecuniary losses but is thankful to God who sustained him. John Reiley died June 7. 1850; General Darlinton died August 2, 1851; Jeremiah Morrow died in 1852; Judge Cutler survived until July 8, 1853, and from that time until the ninth of February, 1860, Israel Donalson was the last survivor of the Convention. His picture in this book was taken at the age of ninety-one, but he survived until ninety-three. He was a man of the strictest integrity, honorable in all his dealings and highly respected by every one. In his political views he was a Democrat and later a Whig.
Captivity of Israel Donalson (Dated June 27, 1842)
At the request of a number of friends, I attempt to give you a brief account of my checkered life, which has been one full of incidents, many of which it is not now in my power to relate, having kept no journal. I write entirely from memory, which is every day growing more indistinct. I was born in the county of Hunterdon, State of New Jersey, on the second of February, 1767. While quite small, my father moved to Cumberland County, in said State, where I was reared up and received my education, and where we had perilous times during the long revolutionary struggle. I was too young to take any part in it myself, but quite capable of noticing passing events. I have known two companies to leave the house of worship during the services of one Sabbath to face the enemy. In the fall of 1787, I left my native State to seek my fortune in western wilds. My first stop was in Ohio County, State of Virginia, where I remained until the spring of 1790; part of the time farming, part of the time teaching school, and a third part I was among the rangers, stationed by the State of Virginia, at the old Mingo town, about eighteen or twenty miles above Wheeling. In May, 1790, I took passage on board of a flatboat for Kentucky, and arrived at Lime stone on the first night of June. I got into a public house, but was not able to procure food, fire, or bed, or any other nourishment but whiskey, and a number of us that had landed that evening, spent the night sitting in the room, which was a grand one for those days. [ Query ? What should we have done if the temperance cause had prevailed at that time ? ] There had during the spring been a great deal of mischief done on the river, but we saw no Indians. There were however in company, I think, nineteen boats. Major Parker, of Lexington, was our admiral and pilot. During the summer of that year I taught school in what is now called Maysville. During the winter of 1790-91, I became ac quainted with Nathaniel Massie, and in the spring of 1791, came to re side in his little fort, in the then county of Hamilton, Northwestern Teritory. At this time there was very little law or gospel in the Territory, and the usual mode of settling disputes was by a game of fisticuffs; and at the close, sometimes a part of a nose, or ear, would be missing, but a good stiff grog generally restored harmony and friendship.
I am not sure whether it was the last of March or first of April, I came to the Territory to reside; but on the night of the twenty-first of April, 1791, Mr. Massie and myself were sleeping together in our blankets, for beds we had none, on the loft of our cabin, to get out of the way of the fleas and gnats. Soon after lying down, I began dreaming of Indians, and continued to do so through the night. Sometime in the night, however, whether Mr. Massie waked of himself, or whether I wakened him, I cannot now say, but I observed to him I did not know what was to be the consequence, for I had dreamed more about Indians that night than in all the time I had been in the western country before. As is common he made light of it, and we dropped again to sleep. He asked me next morning if I would go with him up the river, about four or five miles, to make a survey, and said that William Lytle, who was then at the fort, was going along. We were both young surveyors, and were glad of the opportunity to practice. Accordingly we three, and a James Tittle, from Kentucky, who was about buying the land, got on board of a canoe, and were a long time going up, the river being very high at the time. We commenced at the mouth of a creek, which since that day has been called Donalson Creek. We meandered up the river; Mr. Massie had the compass, Mr. Lytle and myself carried the chain. We had progressed perhaps one hundred and forty or one hundred and fifty poles, when our chain broke, or parted, but with the aid of a tomahawk we soon repaired it. We were then close to a large mound, and were standing in a triangle, and Lytle and myself were amusing our selves pointing out to Tittle the great convenience he would have by building his house on that mound, when the one standing with his face up the river, spoke and said, "Boys, there are Indians" "No," replied the other, "they are Frenchmen." By this time I had caught a glimpse of them; I said they were Indians, and begged them to fire. I had no gun, and from the advantage we had, did not think of running until they started. The Indians were in two small bark canoes, and were close into shore and discovered us just at the instant we saw them; and before I started to run I saw one jump on shore. We took out through the bottom and, before getting to the hill, came to a spring branch. I was in the rear, and as I went to jump, something caught my foot and I fell over the opposite side. They were then so close I saw there was no chance of escape, and did not offer to rise. Three warriors first came up, presented their guns all ready to fire, but as I made no resistance they took them down, and one of them gave me his hand to help me up. At this time Mr. Lytle was about a chain's length before me, and threw away his hat; one of the Indians went forward and picked it up. They then took me back to the bank of the river, and set me down while they put up their stuff, and prepared for a march. While sitting on the bank of the river, I could see the men walking about the block-house on the Kentucky shore, but they heard nothing of it. The Indians went on rapidly that evening, and camped, I think, on the waters of Eagle Creek. We started next morning early, it raining hard, and one of them seeing my hat was somewhat convenient to keep off the rain, came up and took it off my head and put it on his own. By this time I had discovered some friendship in a very lusty Indian, I think the one that first came up to me; I made signs to him that one had taken my hat; he went and took it off the other Indian's head and placed it again on mine, but had not gone far before it was taken again. I complained as before, but my friend shook his head, took down and opened his budget and took out a sort of blanket cap, and put it on my head. We went on: it still rained hard, and the waters were very much swollen, and when my friend discovered that I was timerous, he would lock his arm in mine, and lead me through, and frequently in open woods when I would get tired, I would do the same thing with him and walk for miles. They did not make me carry anything until Sunday or Monday. They got into a thicket of game, and killed I think two bears and some deer, they then halted and jerked their meat, eat a large portion, peeled some bark, made a kind of box, filled it, and put it on me to carry. I soon got tired of it and threw it down; they raised a great laugh, examined my back, applied some bear's oil to it, and put on the box again. I went on some distance and threw it down again; my friend then took it up, threw it over his head, and carried it. It weighed, I thought, at least fifty pounds.
While resting one day one of the Indians broke up little sticks and laid them up in the form of a fence, then took out a grain of corn, as carefully wrapped up as people used to wrap up guineas in olden times; this he planted and called out "squaw," signifying to me that that would be my employment with the squaws. But notwithstanding my situation at the time, I thought they would not eat much corn of my raising. On Tuesday, as we were traveling along, there came to us a white man and an Indian on horseback; they had a long talk, and when they rode off, the Indians I was with seemed considerably alarmed. They immediately formed in Indian file, placed me in the center, and shook a warclub over my head, and showed me by these gestures that if I attempted to run away they would kill me. We soon after arrived at the Shawnee camp, where we continued until late in the afternoon the next day. During our stay there they trained my hair to their own fashion, put a jewel of tin in my nose, etc, etc. The Indians met with great formality when we came to the camp, which was very spacious. One side was entirely cleared out for our use, and the party I was with passed the camp to my great mortification, I thinking they were going on; but on getting to the further end they wheeled short around, came into the camp, sat down-not a whisper. In a few minutes two of the oldest got up, went around, shook hands, came and sat down again; then the Shawnees rising simultaneously, came and shook hands with them. A few of the first took me by the hand; but one refused, and I did not offer them my hand again, not considering it any great honor. Soon after a kettle of bear's oil and some cracknels were set before us, and we began eating, they first chewing the meat, then dipping it into the bear's oil, which I tried to be excused from, but they compelled me to it, which tried my stomach, although by this time hunger had compelled me to eat many a dirty morsel. Early in the afternoon, an Indian came to the camp, and was met by his party just outside, when they formed a circle and he spoke, I thought, near an hour, and so profound was the silence, that had they been on a board floor, I thought the fall of a pin might have been heard. I rightly judged of the disaster, for the day before I was taken I was at Limestone, and was solicited to join a party that was going down to the mouth of Snag Creek, where some Indian canoes were discovered hid in the willows. The party went and divided, some came over to the Indian shore, and some remained in Kentucky, and they succeeded in killing nearly the whole party.
There was at our camp two white men; one of them could swear in English, but very imperfectly, having, I suppose, been taken young; the other, who could speak good English, told me he was from South Carolina. He then told me different names which I have forgotten, except that of Ward; asked if I knew the Wards that lived near Washington, Kentucky, I told him I did, and wanted him to leave the Indians and go to his brother's, and take me with him. He told me he preferred staying with the Indians, that he might nab the whites. He and I had a great deal of chat, and disagreed in almost everything. He told me they had taken a prisoner by the name of Towns, that had lived near Washington, Kentucky, and that he had attempted to run away and they had killed him. But the truth was, they had taken Timothy Downing the day before I was taken, in the neighborhood of Blue Licks, and had got within four or five miles of that camp, and night coming on, and it being very rainy, they concluded to camp. There were but two Indians, an old chief and his son; Downing watched his opportunity, got hold of a squaw-axe and gave the fatal blow. His object was to bring the young Indian in a prisoner; he said he had been so kind to him he could not think of killing him. But the instant he struck his father, the young man sprung upon his back and confined him so that it was with difficulty he extricated himself from his grasp. Downing then made for his horse and the Indian for the camp. The horse he caught and mounted; but not being a woodsman, struck the Ohio a little below Scioto, just as a boat was passing. They would not land for him until he had ridden several miles and convinced them that he was no decoy, and so close was the pursuit, that the boat had only gained the stream when the enemy appeared on the shore. He had severly wounded the young Indian in the scuffle, but did not know it until I told him. But to return to my own narrative; two of the party, viz., my friend and another Indian, turned back from this camp to do other mischief, and never before had I parted with a friend with the same regret. We left the Shawnee camp about the middle of the afternoon, they under great excitement. What detained them I know not, for they had a number of their horses up, and their packs on, from early in the morning. I think they had at least one hundred of the best horses that at that time Kentucky could afford. They calculated on being pursued; and they were right, for the next day, the twenty-eighth of April, Major Kenton, with about ninety men, were at the camp before the fires were extinguished; and I have always viewed it as a providential circumstance that the enemy had departed, as a defeat on the part of the Kentuckians would have been inevitable. I never could get the Indians in position to ascertain their precise number, but concluded there were sixty or upward, as sprightly looking men as I ever saw together, and as well equipped as they could ask for. The Major himself agreed with me that it was a happy circumstance that they were gone.
We traveled that evening, I thought, seven miles, and encamped in the edge of a prairie, the water a short distance off. Our supper that night consisted of raccoon roasted undressed. After this meal I became thirsty, and an old warrior, to whom my friend had given me in charge, directed another to go with me to the water, which made him angry; he struck me, and my nose bled. I had a great mind to return the stroke but did not. I then determined, be the result what it might, that I would go no further with them. They tied me and laid me down as usual, one of them lying on the rope on each side of me; they went to sleep, and I to work gnawing and picking the rope (made of bark) to pieces, but did not get loose until day was breaking. I crawled off on my hands and feet until I got into the edge of the prairie, and sat down on a tussock to put on my moccasins, and had put on one and was preparing to put on the other, when they raised the yell and took the back track, and I believe they made as much noise as twenty white men could do. Had they been still they might have heard me as I was not more than two chains' length from them at the time. But I started and ran, carrying one moccasin in my hand; and in order to evade them chose the poorest ridges I could find; and when coming to logs lying cross wise, would run along one and then along the other. I continued on that way until about ten o'clock, then ascending a very poor ridge, crept between two logs, and being very weary soon dropped to sleep, and did not waken until the sun was almost down. I traveled on a short distance and took lodging in a hollow tree. I think it was on Saturday that I got to the Miami. I collected some logs, made a raft by peeling bark and tying them together; but I soon found that too tedious and abandoned it. I found a turkey's nest with two eggs in it, each one having a double yolk; they made two delicious meals for different days. I followed down the Miami, until I struck Harmar's trace, made the previous fall, and continued on it until I came to Fort Washington, now Cincinnati. I think it was on Sabbath, the first day of May; I caught a horse, tied a piece of bark around his under jaw, on which there was a large tumor like a wart. The bark rubbed that and he became restless and threw me, not hurting me much, however. I caught him again, and he again threw me, hurting me badly. How long I lay insensible I don't know, but when I revived he was a considerable distance from me. I then traveled on very slow, my feet entirely bare and full of thorns and briars. On Wednesday, the day I got in, I was so far gone that I thought it entirely useless to make any further exertion, not knowing what distance I was from the river; I took my station at the foot of a tree, but soon got into a state of sleeping, and either dreamt or thought that I should not be loitering away my time; that I should get in that day; which on reflection I had not the most distant idea. However, the impression was so strong, that I got up and walked some distance. I then took my station again as before, and the same thought again occupied my mind. I got up and walked on. I had not traveled far before I thought I could see an opening for the river; and getting a little further on I heard the sound of a bell. I then started and ran (at a slow speed undoubtedly); a little further on I began to perceive that I was coming to the river hill; and having got about half way down, I heard the sound of an axe, which was the sweetest music I had heard for many a day. It was in the extreme outlot; when I got to the lot I crawled over the fence with difficulty, it being very high. I approached the person very cautiously till within about a chain's length, undiscovered, I then stopped and spoke; the person I spoke to was Mr. William Woodward, the founder of the Woodward High School. Mr. Woodward looked up, hastily cast his eyes around and saw that I had no deadly weapon; he then spoke, "In the name of God," said he, "who are you?" I told him that I had been a prisoner and had made my escape from the Indians. After a few more questions he told me to come to him. I did so. Seeing my situation his fears soon subsided; he told me to sit down on a log, and he would go and catch a horse he had in the lot, and take me in. He caught his horse, sat me on him, but kept the bridle in his own hand. When we got into the road people began to inquire of Mr. Woodward, "Who is he, an Indian?" I was not surprised nor offended at the inquiries, for I was still in Indian uniform, bareheaded, my hair cut off close, except the scalp and foretop, which they had put up in a piece of tin, with a bunch of turkey feathers, which I could not undo. They had also stripped off the feathers of about two turkeys, and hung them to the hair of the scalp; these I had taken off the day I left them. Mr. Woodward took me to his house, where every kindness was shown me. They gave me other clothing; coming from different persons, it did not fit me very neatly, but there could not be a pair of shoes got in the place that I could get on, my feet were so much swollen. But what surprised me most was that when a pallet was made down before the fire, Mr. Woodward condescended to sleep with me. The next day soon after breakfast General Harmar sent for me to come to the fort. I would not go. A second messenger came; I still refused. At length a Captain Shambrugh came; he pleaded with me, told me I might take my own time, and he would wait on me. At length he told me if I would not go with him, the next day a file of men would be sent, and I would then be compelled to go. I went with him, he was as good as his word and treated me very kindly. When I was ushered into the quarters of the commander, I found the room full of people waiting my arrival. I knew none of them except Judge Symmes, and he did not know me, which was not surprising considering the fix I was in. The General asked me a great many questions; and when he got through he asked me to take a glass of liquor which was all the aid he offered; meantime had a mind to keep me in custody as a spy, which when I heard it, raised my indignation to think that a commander of an army should have no more judgment when his own eyes were witnessing that I could scarce go alone. I went out by his permission and met Col. Strong. He asked me if I was such a person; I answered in the affirmative and passed on. In going out of the gate I met his son. He knew me at once, and after a few minutes chat he pulled a dollar out of his pocket, offered it to me saying, it was all he had by him, but when I wanted more to call on him. I told him I did not think I should stand in need, people generally appeared so kind; but he insisted on my taking it; and I believe I brought it home with me. In the course of that day, I got down to the river, and went into the store of Strong & Bartle, men that I had done business for previous to the campaign. For three or four weeks I was busy in making out accounts and settlements. My office was a smoke-house about six or eight feet square, built of boat materials, and stood, I think, a little above Main Street.
In the course of the day, Mr. Collin Campbell came in. Bartle asked him if he knew me. He viewed me a considerable time, and answered, "No." He then told him, but Mr. Campbell could hardly believe him. But when convinced, nothing would do but I must go home with him to North Bend, that he might nurse me up and send me home. We got down sometime in the night; he had all his family to get up, and see what a queer man he had brought home. After sometime we got to bed, and next morning, just after daylight, he came up into my chamber, or rather loft, and wakened me up. I begged of him to let me lay a little; no, I must get right up, and he would have in all who passed by to see me. Wherever he went I had to go. I stayed there about two weeks, gaining in health and strength everyday.
About this time there was a contractor's boat coming up the river. He hailed it and made the arrangements for me to go with them; put up provision for the trip, and did everything that a near relative could have been required to do. About the time I left the Bend, some of the citizens professed to believe me to be a spy, and said, that if I did not leave there they would; and that I was only waiting a fair opportunity of bringing the enemy in upon them. As I did not want to break their peace, I thought best to leave them. When I got on the boat, I found two persons on board that I was well acquainted with, and was treated very friendly. Nothing particular occurred on the boat. When we got up to Limestone, I was greeted by almost every man, woman, and child, particularly those that had been under my tuition. The Captain Bartle above mentioned was among the first settlers of Cincinnati. I had not seen him for forty years, until we met on the twenty-sixth of December, 1838, the time the pioneers were invited to the half Centennial celebration of Cincinnati. We then met, and at his request lodged in the same room. We parted the next day, never more to meet in this world; he was then ninety-four years of age, and has since paid his last debt.
From History of Adams County, Ohio from its Earliest Settlement to the Present Time - by Nelson W. Evans and Emmons B. Stivers - West Union, Ohio - Published by E. B. Stivers - 1900