Person:James Copus (2)

James was stout, fearless and an industrious German. After a trek to OH, James returned to Pennsylvania where he married Amy Church. It is believed that four children were born in Pennsylvania. The family moved to OH where they were the first settlers in Mifflin Township, Richland CO. They built their home on the Black Fork, where James was a missionary to the Indians. Three more children were born to James and Amy in OH. James is buried in a family plot in Mifflin Township, Richland CO and Amy is buried where her husband was killed in Richland CO.

Rev. James Copus was killed in an Indian Massacre on 15 SEP 1812. Following is the story as written in the book, History of Ashland CO, OH.

A few weeks after the arrival of Andrew Craig and his wife, he erected a camp cabin about one and a half miles southeast of the Indian village of Greentown where he resided when James Copus and his family landed, some weeks afterward, on his way to his forest home in the south part of Mifflin Township. Mr. Copus was born in Green CO, Pennsylvania in about the year 1775. He married in this state in 1796. In March 1809, he moved to the Black Fork in Richland CO. His route of travel was through Wheeling, Cambridge, Zanesville, Coshocton, and up the banks of the Walhonding through the village of Greentown. He located at first about three-quarters of a mile northeast of the present site of Charles Mill, on what was afterward known as Zimmer's Run, and erected a small camp cabin of poles. The cabin was constructed by planting two forks in the ground about twenty feet apart, and placing a ridge pole on them, and then leaning split timber against the pole, making a sort of shed roof, the base being about twelve feet wide, leaving a small opening at the top for smoke to escape. The ends were closed by setting poles in the ground, leaving a door at one end. The cracks were carefully closed with moss gathered from old logs. The floor consisted of the smooth, well packed earth. In this crude structure, James Copus and family resided for a period of about eighteen months.

Though often visited, in the meantime, by the Greentown Indians he felt entirely safe, and remained on the most friendly terms with Captain Armstrong and his people. Being a stout, fearless and industrious man, he set to work at once to clear and prepare a few acres for corn, and soon had a small field fenced with brush, and otherwise prepared to plant. Having brought a "Yoke of oxen" and a cow or two along with him, he felt certain that his family could survive the hardships of pioneer life, aided by his industry.

At that time the forests abounded in the most luxuriant growth of sedge-grass, pea-vines and other growths upon which horses and cattle could feed and grow fat. In July he had the misfortune to see his field of corn bitten by the frost and greatly injured. However, though soft, it turned out better than he anticipated.

In the meantime, he visited Andrew Craig, and purchased a hog or two from him, and by their increase and the use of his rifle he procured meat enough to pass the first winter in safety. In the spring of 1810, he erected a cabin in the vicinity of an excellent spring, about three-quarters of a mile south of the camp cabin, on the Indian trail leading to Greentown. Here he cleared about twenty acres and enclosed the same with a good rail fence. Here he resided when the War of 1812 commenced between the United States and Great Britain. In the meantime, being an exhorter and local preacher in the Methodist Episcopal Church, he was often invited to address the Indians of Greentown, by whom he was listened to with great appreciation and attention. He soon became intimate with Captain Armstrong, the chief, and the leading men of the village, among whom were Montour and Jelloway. In the fall of 1809 he attended an Indian feast at Greentown, where he met James Cunningham and other new settlers. The refreshments consisted of boiled venison and bear meat, somewhat tainted, and not very palatable to the white guests. The ceremonies took place in the council house, a building composed of clapboards and poles, some thirty feet wide, and perhaps fifty feet long. A tall chief arose and addressed them. During the delivery of his speech, a pronounced silence prevailed. The whole audience observed the speaker, and seemed to be deeply moved by the oration. The speaker seemed to be about seventy years old. He was tall and graceful. His eyes had the fire of youth, and blazed with emotion while he was speaking. The audience frequently sobbed and seemed greatly affected. Mr. Copus could not understand the language of the address but presumed the speaker was giving a summary history of the Delaware, two tribes of which, the Wolf and the Turtle, were represented at the feast. Mr. Copus learned that the chief who addressed the meeting was "Old Captain Pipe", of Mohican Johnston, the executioner of the lamented Colonel Crawford. At the close of the address dancing commenced.

In June of 1812, the United States declared war against Great Britain and her dependencies. When General Hull surrendered at Detroit, the news of the disaster reached the pioneers of Richland and Ashland Counties and they were deeply alarmed.

During the summer of 1812, Andrew Newman put up a small saw-mill on the same stream two miles below Mr. Beam, and was engaged on the race when the Zimmer-Ruffner tragedy occurred, and sought protection at the Mansfield block-house.

About this time, Captain Douglas was dispatched with his company, by Colonel Samuel Kratzer, who had arrived in Mansfield with his command, from Knox CO, to remove the Indians from Jerome and Greentown, as a measure of safety to the settlers, to some other part of the state. Captain Douglas proceeded quietly to their villages, but when he arrived at Greentown, Captain Armstrong, the chief, hesitated about obeying the order of removal. He had about eighty warriors under his command, and could have made a vigorous resistance. Fearing trouble, Captain Douglas, before attempting to use force, proceeded to the residence of James Copus, some two and a half miles further up the Black Fork, and requested him to accompany him and his guard to Greentown, to use his influence to induce the Indians to depart without further trouble. Mr. Copus had the confidence of Armstrong, and felt that he would be doing injustice to his Indian neighbors to interpose in the matter, without the most positive assurance from Douglas that their property would remain safe until peace, and that no violence would be offered his Indian friends on their way to Urbana, the point to which they were to be removed. On receiving these assurances, he and his three sons (Henry, James and Wesley) accompanied Douglas to Greentown. When he arrived, Armstrong and his people were greatly excited, and fears of a fight were entertained. Armstrong was an old man, and much esteemed by his people. He trembled with excitement when the consultation took place. On appealing to Mr. Copus as to whether their property would be safe, he responded that Douglas had pledged him that it would be, and though he was sorry they had to leave, he thought all would be safe.

Accordingly, after the assurance of Mr. Copus, Captain Armstrong held a consultation with his leading advisers, and they took up their line of march across the Black Fork, to the new State road, and proceeded thence to Lucas, and from there to Mansfield, and encamped in the ravine south east of the public square. A few of Douglas's soldiers, perhaps eight or ten, remained in the village until Armstrong and his people had disappeared in the forest, and then, to the surprise and horror of Mr. Copus and his three sons, deliberately set fire to the village, and nearly everything in it was consumed in their presence.

About two weeks after the removal of the Greentown Indians, the murder of Martin Ruffner and the family of Frederick Zimmer, Sr., took place. Early in September, one afternoon, while Ruffner was on his way, on the old Indian trail leading from the cabin of Frederick Zimmer to the cabin of his brother, through the forest, he met two Indians who were well armed with guns, knives, and tomahawks, and seemed very friendly to him. Stopping him they asked if the Zimmer's were at home. He replied, they were. They then passed on into the forest. He hastened to his brother suspecting foul play. They armed themselves and rode to the cabin of Zimmer. Having arrived before the Indians, Phillip Zimmer was dispatched to inform James Copus, who lived about two miles further south. Having notified Mr. Copus, he hastened on to inform Mr. Lambright, who resided about two miles further south. Lambright returned with Phillip Zimmer and joined with Mr. Copus, they all proceeded to the cabin of Frederick Zimmer where they arrived early in the evening. Finding no light in the cabin, and all being silent, fears were entertained that the Indians had killed the inmates. Mr. Copus moved cautiously around to the back window and listened a moment, but hearing no movements he crept slyly around to the door, which, on examination he found partially ajar, and, pressing against it, found some obstruction behind it. He at once suspected the family had been murdered, and, on placing his hand on the floor, found it wet with blood. Hastening back to Phillip and Lambright, who were concealed a short distance away, he stated his convictions, when Phillip frantic with grief, and desired to rush into the cabin to learn the whole truth about his parents and sister. Suspecting Indians were concealed in the cabin, awaiting his return, Messars. Lambright and Copus induced him to accompany them. On arriving at his cabin, Mr. Copus hastily took his wife and children and proceeded with Mr. Lambright to his residence. There they were joined by his wife and children. From thence they pressed on to the cabin of Frederick Zimmer, Jr., brother of Phillip, and he and his brother joined the fugitives, and they hastened along the Indian path near where the village of Lucas now stands, and stopped at the cabin of David Hill, where they remained until next morning. Hill and family they accompanied them to the block-house at Jacob Beam's, where they arrived safely and gave the alarm. Mr. Copus, Phillip and Frederick Zimmer, Hill, and Lambright and a number of soldiers, well armed, proceeded by the most direct route, through the forest, to the cabins of Martin Ruffner and Richard Hughes. These cabins had not been disturbed. They then proceeded to the cabin of Frederick Zimmer, and on entering found the old gentleman, his wife, and daughter Catherine all dead and dreadfully mangled by the savages. Ruffner was found in the yard dead also.

About five days after the return of Mr. Copus to the blockhouse, becoming very weary of staying there, and believing the Indians entertained no ill will towards him, he insisted on returning with his family to the Black Fork. Captain Martin protested that he was incurring much danger in doing so; but Mr. Copus insisted on going back. Nine soldiers were detailed to conduct he and his family home. They all arrived safely in the afternoon, and found the cabin and stock secure. In the evening Mr. Copus invited the soldiers to sleep in the cabin; but the weather being warm, they preferred to take quarters in the barn, which stood four or five rods (1 rod = 5 1/2 yards) north of the cabin, on the trail, that they might have a better opportunity to indulge in frolic and fun, and be less crowded and under less restraint. Before retiring, Mr. Copus cautioned them against surprise by Indians who might be lurking around. During the afternoon, Sarah, a little daughter of Mr. Copus, aged about twelve years, went into the cornfield, a few rods south of the cabin, and while there saw an Indian, in the edge of the forest, sulk behind a brush heap, but neglected to tell her father. (Mrs. Sarah Vail, now a widow seventy eight years of age, relates this occurance, and says the reason she did not tell her father of it is, that he was a very strict man in regard to the truth, and fearing she might have been deceived, did not wish to incur his displeasure by creating a false alarm.) That night the dogs kept up a constant barking, and Mr. Copus had many unpleasant dreams. Before daylight began to appear, he invited the soldiers into the cabin, telling them he feared some great disaster was about to overtake his family. When daylight arrived, the soldiers insisted on going to the spring, about three rods away, to wash. The spring is one of the finest in the country, and gushes from the base of a hill in a large current. He again cautioned them that Indians were certainly in the neighborhood, or his dogs would not have made so much noise; and said "If they went to the spring, they should take their guns along", which they promised to do; but on passing out leaned them against the cabin, and started for the spring. They had scarcely reached when the Indians rushed from their concealment in the cornfield with a terrific yell, and cutting off all escape retreat, began to shoot and tomahawk the soldiers. Mr. Copus, upon hearing the uproar, sprang from his bed, seized his gun and rushed for the door. Just as he opened it, he met a ferocious looking savage, and both fired at the same instant, and both were mortally wounded. The ball passed through the leather strap that supported the powderhorn of Mr. Copus, and penetrating his breast, caused him to fall, when he was supported to his bed, where he expired in about one hour, while begging the soldiers to bravely defend and save his poor family from the cruel fate that seemed to await them. (This powderhorn, a very large one, is yet in the possession of the family of Mr. Wesley Copus, and is a rare relic of the days of the pioneers.) Three of the soldiers fled to the forest, but were overtaken, killed and scalped. Mr. George Dye, another soldier, made a desperate effort and regained the cabin, but was shot through the thigh just as he entered. The killed were George Shipley, John Tedrick, and Mr. Warnock, who had fled into the forest. The door of the cabin was soon riddled with balls; and the soldiers tore up the puncheons from the floor and placed them against the door, to prevent the family from being killed. Volley after volley was fired into the building, until the logs were honey-combed with leaden balls. From the elevation above the cabin the Indians fired through the roof, in the hopes of killing the inmates. Nancy Copus, a little girl, was shot through the door, above the knee, producing a painful wound. George Launtz, a soldier, had his arm broken by a ball, upstairs, as he was removing the clay and chinking to enable him to get a shot at an Indian.

The battle continued for about five hours, when the savages, despairing of success, withdrew and carried off their wounded and buried their dead. Captain Martin had agreed the day before to come to the Copus cabin the night before and stay the night, but as he and his soldiers being out on scout all day, and failing to find any Indians concluded that no danger was present. When they arrived at the cabin the next day, the soldiers were awe-struck on beholding the work of death around them. The Captain and his men attended to the wounded, and the grief-stricken family of Mr. Copus, who was then lying cold in death, surrounded by his terrified wife and children. Mr. Copus and the murdered soldiers were buried by the command, in a large grave at the foot of an apple tree, a rod or two from the cabin, where their bones yet repose. The whole party returned to the cabin and found Mr. Warnock's body leaning against a tree and he was buried where he was found. Mrs. Copus and her children, after remaining in the block-house some two months, were removed to Guernsey CO, OH, by Joseph Archer and George Carrell, who resided near Claysville, in that CO, where they remained until the spring of 1815, and then returned through the village of Greentown, where, to their alarm, they found many of the Indians had re-erected their cabins, and had again settled.

This tragedy is believed to have occurred on Tuesday morning, September 15, 1812. History of Ashland CO, OH

A monument was erected at the site to honor the event. There are yet a few mementos of that battle on the Black Fork remaining. A single log of the old cabin remains, and is doing duty in a smokehouse on the premises. The oak, behind which the Indian was shot, still stands on the hillside, its top partly dead. A neat frame house stands a few feet west of where the cabin stood, and is occupied by John Wesley Vail. The spot is a lovely one. To the east, the steep, precipitous hill rises abruptly, and is yet covered with timber and great rocks. It is several hundred feet high, and from its base still gush the waters of the beautiful spring, just as they did on that fatal morning when its waters were dyed with human blood. Half a mile south, on the Black Fork, lives Sarah Vail, in a cabin alone, which she occupied fifty-five years. She and her sister, Amy Whetmore, now living in Seneca CO, are the only surviving members of the Copus family, and were witnesses of the battle. Mrs. Vail was eighty years old on January 1, 1880.

Killed by indians.