ENGENDERED AMERICA PRIMARY SOURCES
DOCUMENT 1
In colonial New England, where African and Indian slaves and servants were far less common than the
southern colonies, young Englishmen and women often served a term of labor service or apprenticeship
in some other family's home before establishing households of their own. Ideally, masters and mistresses
were supposed to treat their servants as surrogate children, providing room, board, and clothing as well
as moral guidance and discipline for rebellious teens in return for the fruits of their labor. On July 10th,
1639, John Winter of Richmond Island, Maine wrote to Trelawny to defend his wife from the accusation
that she had cruelly beaten their servant girl, Priscilla Bickford, and that they were stingy with milk
rations and clothes for the servent men. What does the following letter reveal about labor exploitation
and resistance, the kinds of work expected of male and female indentured servants, and of the labor
shortage in New England that made it difficult for masters and mistresses to discipline the same?
...You write me of some yll reports is given of my Wyfe for beatinge the maid; yf a faire waye will not do
yt, beatinge must, sometimes, uppon such Idlle girrells as she is. Yf you think yt fitte for my wyfe to do
all the worke & the maide sitt still, she must forbeare her hands to strike, for then the worke wll ly
undonn. She hath bin now 2 years 1/2 in the house, & I do not thinke she hath risen 20 times before my
Wyfe hath bin up to Call her, and many tymes light the fire before she Comes out of her bed. She hath
twize [runaway]...in the woodes, which we have bin faine to send all our Company to seeke. We Cann
hardly keep her within doores after we a gonn to beed, except we Carry the key of the doore to beed with
us. She never Could melke Cow nor goat since she Came hither. Our men do not desire to haue her boyle
the kittell for them she is so sluttish. She Cannot be trusted to serue a few piggs, but my wyfe most
Commonly must be with her. She hath written home, I heare, that she was faine to ly vppon goates skins.
She might take som goates skins to ly in her bedd, but not given to her for (p. 166) // her lodginge. For a
yeare & quarter or more she lay with my daughter vppon a good feather bed before my daughter beinge
lacke' 3 or 4 daies to Sacco [9 miles away], the maid goes into beed with her Cloth & stockins, & would
not take the paines to plucke of her Cloths: her bedd after was a doust bed & she had 2 Coverletts to ly on
her, but sheets she had none after that tyme she was found to be so sluttish. Her beating that she hath had
hath never hurt her body nor lim[b]es. She is so fat & soggy she Cann hardly do any worke. This I write
all the Company will Justify. -Yf this maid at her lasy tymes, (p. 167) // when she hath bin found in her ill
accyons, do not deserue 2 or 3 blowes, I pray Judge You who hath most reason to Complaine, my wyfe or
the maid. You also write me that you ar informed that my wyfe will giue the men no mylke. Yt may be
that she will not giue every on mylke as often as they Com for yt, but I know that all the Company haue
mylke 4, 5, & 6 meales in a weeke, boyled with flower, which som of them haue Complained haue had
mylke to often. I know that most of the sommer the mylke doth saue us a C. & 1 C. ½ Of fish in a weeke,
& wheras you say the men Complaine she hath pincht them of their allowance, I spoke of yt in the Church
before all our owne Company and Mr. Hingstons' Company after praier, & I pray examine Mr. Hingston
& his Company what answere the gaue for that foull abuse giuen her: & wheras you say the Complaine
the would be better weare yt not for my wyfe, I answer for this also I do not gaine say yt, but yt may be
shee will speake shrood words to som of them somtymes, for I know som of them haue Com for their
bread when the haue had yt befor, which doth make her out of passion' with them. She hath an
vnthankefull office to do this she doth, for I thinke their was never that stewward yt amonge such people
as we haue Could giue them all Content. I wrote you last yeare that I wanted a man to order our vittells,
and so I do still. Yt doth not pleas me well being she hath taken so much paines & Care to order things as
well as she Could, & ryse in the morning rath, & go to bed so latte, & to haue hard speches for yt.
Therefore I desire you will be pleased to send a Carefull man to looke over the provision & to order yt,
for I haue never a man heare that I Can trust in this busines, neyther will any on do yt but with an yll will,
the office is so vnthankfull: but our men are now a great deall quietter then the haue bin, ever since those
men Run away. (168) //
The maid Tomson had a hard fortune. Yt was her Chance to be drowned Cominge over the barr
after our Cowes, & very litle water on the barr, not aboue 1 foote, & we Cannot Judge how yt should be,
accept that her hatt did blow from her head, & she to saue her hatt stept on the side of the barr. A great
many of our Company saw when she was drowned, & run with all speed to saue her, but she was dead
before the Could Com to her. I thinke yf she had lived she would haue proved a good servant in the
house: she would do more worke then 3 such maides as Pryssylla is.
And wheras You write me to devide the land men, they ar but 7 in all to husbandry, & on of them
doth alwaies follow the piggs & doth nothinge els, yett Cannot keep them from the woulues: & after the
next February ther will be no more left but Jonas Beill & John Barrage. You write me often of puttinge vp a house to put our fish in; we haue had a house for that purpose this 4 yeare, which will hold 50
thousand fish at least, which we put our fish in, to which is that is taken & dried before Chrismas. The
fish we take before Chrismas is very small, & but litle of yt good fish ; yt is accordinge to the weather, &
for our fish which we take after Chrismas we cannot put yt into house before yt be dryed, & yt will dum3
rather in the house then out to doores. At that tyme of the Yeare sailes is best to Cover our fish we take in
sommer. Our fish in winter will not make so fair as the fish which is taken about the myddell of February
& the season after, for the frost doth scorch yt vp so fast that yt will not make fair som tymes. (p. 169) //
... I haue formerly written you by sundry Conveyance what men wear Runn away, & wheare the went as
far as I Could learne. You write me that your servants wants Clothes. I haue sent what every on hath had
in Clothes & nessassaries ever since my last Comminge over. Yf those Cloths will not serue turne that
they haue had, you may please to send every on his Cloths, what he shall haue for the whole yeare. I haue
never denied them any Cloths when the wanted, but yt may be I haue not giuen them Cloths presently
when they did demand them, but often tymes would tell them of their ill husbandry of their Clothes.
Theris Peter Cobb hath no more Clothes then the others, but he Can go fitt & Comly in his Cloths when
the rest will go ragged & torne, & I doubt som of them sells their Clothes, but I Cannot yet Justly
Condemn them as yett. (p. 170)
Source: James Phinney Baxter, ed., Documentary History of the State of Maine. Vol. III: Containingy the Trelawny Papers. (Portland: Published
by the Maine Historical Society, aided by appropriations from the State, Hoyt, Fogg, and Donham, 1884) , p. 166-167.
DOCUMENT 2
Marriages in colonial New England were not merely matters of love, but also involved issues of property
and law, especially in the case of women with children from a previous marriage. What does the
following notice from 1641 of the impending marriage of the widow Horton and Robert Ashley of the
frontier town of Springfield, Massachusetts tell us about a woman's legal rights to (and preoccupations
with) the disposal of her properties as she once again entered into a married state?
August. 7. 1641.
Know all men that whereas there is a mariage shortely intended betweene the widdow Horton and Robert
Ashly both of Springfeild: That the said widdow Horton in the presence of Robert Ashly doth assigne and
set over her house and house lott conteininge about eleven akers and 4 akers of woodland afore the house
Eastward all which is valued now at Twelfe pounds: and all her hoggs litle and greate which are valued at
eighteene pounds all together are valued at Thirty pounds into the hands of Robert Ashly for the use and
behafe of her two sonns one sucking and the other about Three years ould caled Jermy to be paid to them
that is to say to eather of them fifteene pounds apeice when they shall come to the age of Twenty and one
yeares: and the said Robert is to have the use and profits of the said land and hogges for the educatinge of
her said Two sonns: and when they shall come to the age of 13 or 14 yeares the said Robert doth promise
to put them out as apprentises to some usefull trade such as they shall like of: and if they cannot be put
out without a portion of mony then so much is to be deducted out of their portion of 15£ apeace as shall
be indifferently judged fitt for their bynding out: and for the rest of the said 15£ apeace the said Robert
doth bynd himselfe his land goods and cattell to pay to them when they shall come to the age of .21 years:
and in the meane tyme doth bynd himselfe to maintaine the present house and fencinge and if he shall
leave it in better case than it is at present then he then shall injoy it shall pay such cost as shall be judged
to make it better for his use by indifferent parties and if one of the two sonns of the widdow Horton shall
die before the age of 21 yeares then the other shall have his portion also: and the widdow Horton being
present before me at the wrighting hereof doth acknowledge that this is her will and meaninge and that
she is fully consenting to what is above expressed and the said Robert Ashly being also present doth
acknowledge that he is fully consentinge to all that is above expressed: and uppon this their mutuall
Consent I have given them leave and liberty to proceed in marriage when they please: and the Inventory
of her goods I have hereunto annexed as they were apprised under the hands of Samuell Wright and
Samuell Hubbard.
William Pynchon
Source: http://www.law.du.edu/russell/lh/alh/docs/pynchon.html
DOCUMENT 3
Anne Hutchinson (1591-1643), was the eldest daughter of Cambridge-educated Puritan reformer and
minister, Francis Marbury. She sailed to the Massachusetts Bay colony with her husband, a prosperous
cloth merchant, and her 14 children in 1634. There she began holding Bible-study meetings, originally
exclusively for women, but which afterward became popular with both sexes and a source of tension in
the Puritan Commonwealth. Do the following1636 excerpts from John Winthrop's journal suggest that
assumptions concerning "proper" gender roles played a factor in her censure and banishment?
[October 21, 1636] One Mrs. Hutchinson, a member of the church of Boston, a woman of a ready wit
and bold spirit, brought over with her two dangerous errors: 1. That the person of the Holy Ghost dwells
in a justified person. 2. That no sanctification can help to evidence to us our justification—From these
two grew many branches; as, 1. Our union with the Holy Ghost, so as a Christian remains dead to every
spiritual action, and hath no gifts nor graces, other than such as are in hypocrites, nor any other
sanctification but the Holy Ghost himself.
There joined with her in these opinions a brother of hers, one Mr. Wheelwright, a silenced minister
sometimes in England.
[October 25, 1636] The other ministers in the bay, hearing of these things, came to Boston at the time of
a general court, and entered conference in private with them, to the end they might know the certainty of
these things; that if need were, they might write to the church of Boston about them, to prevent (if this
were possible) the dangers, which seemed herby to hang over that and the rest of the churches. At this
conference, Mr. Cotton was present, and gave satisfaction to them, so as he agreed with them all in the
point of sanctification, and so did Mr. Wheelwright; so as they all did hold, that sanctification did help to
evidence justification. The same he had delivered plainly in public, divers times; but, for the indwelling
of the person of the Holy Ghost, he held that still, as some other of the ministers did, but not union with
the person of the Holy Ghost, (as Mrs. Hutchinson and other did,) so as to amount to a personal union.
[November 1, 1637] There was great hope that the late general assembly would have had some good
effect in pacifying the troubles and dissensions about matters of religion; but it fell out otherwise. For
though Mr. Wheelwright and those of his party had been clearly confuted and confounded in the
assembly, yet they persisted in their opinions, and were as busy in nourishing contentions (the principal of
them) as before.
The court also sent for Mrs. Hutchinson, and charged her with divers matters, as her keeping two public
lectures every week in her house, whereto sixty or eighty persons did usually resort, and for reproaching
most of the ministers (viz., all except Mr. Cotton) for not preaching a covenant of free grace, and that they
had not the seal of the spirit, nor were able ministers of the New Testament; which were clearly proved
against her, though she sought to shift it off. And, after many speeches to and fro, at last she was so full
as she could not contain, but vented her revelations; amongst which was one, that she had it revealed to
her, that she should come into New England, and should here be persecuted, and that God would ruin us
and our posterity, and the whole state, for the same. So the court proceeded and banished her; but,
because it was winter, they committed her to a private house, where she was well provided, and her own
friends and the elders permitted to go to her, but none else
The court called also Capt. Underhill, and some five or six more of the principal, whose hands were to the
said petition; and because they stood to justify it, they were disfranchised, and such as had public places
were put from them.
The court also ordered, that the rest, who had subscribed the petition, (and would not acknowledge their
fault, and which near twenty of them did,) and some others, who had been chief stirrers in these
contentions, etc. should be disarmed. This troubled some of them very much, especially because they
were to bring them in themselves; but at last, when they saw no remedy, they obeyed.
All the proceedings of this court against these persons were set down at large, with the reasons and other
observations, and were sent into England to be published there, to the end that all our godly friends might
not be discouraged from coming to us, etc.
[March, 1638] While Mrs. Hutchinson continued at Roxbury, divers of the elders and others resorted to
her, and finding her to persist in maintaining those gross errors beforementioned, and many others, to the
number of thirty or thereabout, some of them wrote to the church at Boston, offering to make proof of the
same before the church, etc., 15; whereupon she was called, (the magistrates being desired to give her
license to come,) and the lecture was appointed to begin at ten. (The general court being then at
Newtown, the governor and the treasurer, being members of Boston, were permitted to come down, but
the rest of the court continued at Newtown.) When she appeared, the errors were read to her. The first
was, that the souls of men are mortal by generation, but, after, made immortal by Christ’s purchase. This
she maintained a long time; but at length she was so clearly convinced by reason and scripture, and the
whole church agreeing that sufficient had been delivered for her conviction, that she yielded she had been
in an error. Then they proceeded to three other errors: 1. That there was no resurrection of these bodies,
and that these bodies were not united to Christ, but every person united hath a new body, etc. These were
also clearly confuted, but yet she held her own; so as the church (all but two of her sons) agreed she
should be admonished, and because her sons would not agree to it, they were admonished also.
Mr. Cotton pronounced the sentence of admonition with great solemnity, and with much zeal and
detestation of her errors and pride of spirit. The assembly continued till eight at night, and all did
acknowledge the special presence of God’s spirit therein; and she was appointed to appear again the next
lecture day.
[March 22, 1638] Mrs. Hutchinson appeared again; (she had been licensed by the court, in regard she
had given hope of her repentance, to be at Mr. Cotton’s house, that both he and Mr. Davenport might
have the more opportunity to deal with her;) and the articles being again read to her, and her answer
required, she delivered it in writing, wherein she made a retraction of near all, but with such explanations
and circumstances as gave no satisfaction to the church; so as she was required to speak further to them.
Then she declared, that it was just with God to leave her to herself, as He had done, for her slighting His
ordinances, both magistracy and ministry; and confessed that what she had spoken against the magistrates
at the court (by way of revelation) was rash and ungrounded; and desired the church to pray for her. This
gave the church good hope of her repentance; but when she was examined about some particulars, as that
she had denied inherent righteousness, etc., she affirmed that it was never her judgment; and though it
was proved by many testimonies, that she had been of that judgment, and so had persisted, and
maintained it by argument against divers, yet she impudently persisted in her affirmation, to the
astonishment of all the assembly. So that, after much time and many arguments had been spent to bring
her to see her sin, but all in vain, the church, with one consent, cast her out. Some moved to have her
admonished once more; but, it being for manifest evil in matter of conversation, it was agreed otherwise;
and for that reason also the sentence was denounced by the pastor, matter of manners belonging properly
to his place.
After she was excommunicated, her spirits, which seemed before to be somewhat dejected, revived again,
and she gloried in her sufferings, saying, that it was the greatest happiness, next to Christ, that ever befell
her. Indeed, it was a happy day to the churches of Christ here, and to many poor souls, who had been
seduced by her, who, by what they heard and saw that day, were (through the grace of God) brought off
quite from her errors, and settled again in the truth....
After two or three days, the governor sent a warrant to Mrs. Hutchinson to depart this jurisdiction before
the last of this month, according to the order of court, and for that end set her at liberty from her former
constraint, so as she was not to go forth of her own house till her departure; and upon the 28th she went by
water to her farm at the Mount, where she was to take water, with Mr. Wheelwright’s wife and family, to
go to Pascataquack; but she changed her mind, and went by land to Providence, and so to the island in the
Naragansett Bay, which her husband and the rest of that sect had purchased of the Indians.
DOCUMENT 4
Anne Hutchinson's scriptural readings, personal interpretations of the Bible, and criticisms of certain
Puritan clergymen attracted the sympathetic ear of many male and female devotees alike (including
Massachusetts Governor Vane), but also earned her the ire of powerful Massachusetts ministers like the
Reverend John Wilson and rival magistrates like John Winthrop. Regaining the governorship, the latter
considered her opinions "heretical" and a "threat" to the ministerial order, and charged that her
meetings--(sometimes drawing in more than eighty persons)--were not appropriate for her gender.
Subsequently, in 1637 she was censured, tried, and condemned by the Court at Newton, Massachusetts,
and she and her family and followers banished from the colony. Do the court records indicate whether
her transgression of traditional Puritan gender roles may have played a part in her prosecution? Did she
suffer a fate any different from that of Puritan dissenter, Roger Williams?
Trial at the Court at Newton. 1637
Gov. John Winthrop: Mrs. Hutchinson, you are called here as one of those that have troubled the peace
of the commonwealth and the churches here; you are known to be a woman that hath had a great share in
the promoting and divulging of those opinions that are the cause of this trouble, and to be nearly joined
not only in affinity and affection with some of those the court had taken notice of and passed censure
upon, but you have spoken divers things, as we have been informed, very prejudicial to the honour of the
churches and ministers thereof, and you have maintained a meeting and an assembly in your house that
hath been condemned by the general assembly as a thing not tolerable nor comely in the sight of God nor
fitting for your sex, and notwithstanding that was cried down you have continued the same. Therefore we
have thought good to send for you to understand how things are, that if you be in an erroneous way we
may reduce you that so you may become a profitable member here among us. Otherwise if you be
obstinate in your course that then the court may take such course that you may trouble us no further.
Therefore I would intreat you to express whether you do assent and hold in practice to those opinions and
factions that have been handled in court already, that is to say, whether you do not justify Mr.
Wheelwright's sermon and the petition.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: I am called here to answer before you but I hear no things laid to my charge.
Gov. John Winthrop: I have told you some already and more I can tell you.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: Name one, Sir.
Gov. John Winthrop: Have I not named some already?
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: What have I said or done?
Gov. John Winthrop: Why for your doings, this you did harbor and countenance those that are parties in
this faction that you have heard of.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: That's matter of conscience, Sir.
Gov. John Winthrop: Your conscience you must keep, or it must be kept for you.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: Must not I then entertain the saints because I must keep my conscience.
Gov. John Winthrop: Say that one brother should commit felony or treason and come to his brother's
house, if he knows him guilty and conceals him he is guilty of the same. It is his conscience to entertain
him, but if his conscience comes into act in giving countenance and entertainment to him that hath broken
the law he is guilty too. So if you do countenance those that are transgressors of the law you are in the
same fact.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: What law do they transgress?
Gov. John Winthrop: The law of God and of the state.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: In what particular?
Gov. John Winthrop: Why in this among the rest, whereas the Lord doth say honour thy father and thy
mother.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: Ey Sir in the Lord.
Gov. John Winthrop: This honour you have broke in giving countenance to them.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: In entertaining those did I entertain them against any act (for there is the thing)
or what God has appointed?
Gov. John Winthrop: You knew that Mr. Wheelwright did preach this sermon and those that
countenance him in this do break a law.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: What law have I broken?
Gov. John Winthrop: Why the fifth commandment.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: I deny that for he (Mr. Wheelwright) saith in the Lord.
Gov. John Winthrop: You have joined with them in the faction.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: In what faction have I joined with them?
Gov. John Winthrop: In presenting the petition.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: Suppose I had set my hand to the petition. What then?
Gov. John Winthrop: You saw that case tried before.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: But I had not my hand to (not signed) the petition.
Gov. John Winthrop: You have councelled them.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: Wherein?
Gov. John Winthrop: Why in entertaining them.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: What breach of law is that, Sir?
Gov. John Winthrop: Why dishonouring the commonwealth, Mrs. Hutchinson.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: But put the case, Sir, that I do fear the Lord and my parents. May not I entertain
them that fear the Lord because my parents will not give me leave?
Gov. John Winthrop: If they be the fathers of the commonwealth, and they of another religion, if you
entertain them then you dishonour your parents and are justly punishable.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: If I entertain them, as they have dishonoured their parents I do.
Gov. John Winthrop: No but you by countenancing them above others put honor upon them.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: I may put honor upon them as the children of God and as they do honor the
Lord.
Gov. John Winthrop: We do not mean to discourse with those of your sex but only this: you so adhere
unto them and do endeavor to set forward this faction and so you do dishonour us.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: I do acknowledge no such thing. Neither do I think that I ever put any dishonour
upon you.
Gov. John Winthrop: Why do you keep such a meeting at your house as you do every week upon a set
day?
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: It is lawful for me to do so, as it is all your practices, and can you find a warrant
for yourself and condemn me for the same thing? The ground of my taking it up was, when I first came to
this land because I did not go to such meetings as those were, it was presently reported that I did not allow
of such meetings but held them unlawful and therefore in that regard they said I was proud and did
despise all ordinances. Upon that a friend came unto me and told me of it and I to prevent such aspersions
took it up, but it was in practice before I came. Therefore I was not the first.
Gov. John Winthrop: ...By what warrant do you continue such a course?
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: I conceive there lies a clear rule in Titus that the elder women should instruct
the younger and then I must have a time wherein I must do it.
Gov. John Winthrop: All this I grant you, I grant you a time for it, but what is this to the purpose that
you Mrs. Hutchinson must call a company together from their callings to come to be taught of you?
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: If you look upon the rule in Titus it is a rule to me. If you convince me that it is
no rule I shall yield.
Gov. John Winthrop: You know that there is no rule that crosses another, but this rule crosses that in the
Corinthians. But you must take it in this sense that elder women must instruct the younger about their
business and to love their husbands and not to make them to clash Mrs. Hutchinson...
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: Will it please you to answer me this and to give me a rule for then I will
willingly submit to any truth, Mrs. Hutchinson If any come to my house to be instructed in the ways of
God what rule have I to put them away?.... Do you think it not lawful for me to teach women and why do
you call me to teach the court?
Gov. John Winthrop: We do not call you to teach the court but to lay open yourself....
(The argument over the broken rule continues)
Gov. John Winthrop: Your course is not to be suffered for. Besides that we find such a course as this to
be greatly prejudicial to the state. Besides the occasion that it is to seduce many honest persons that are
called to those meetings and your opinions and your opinions being known to be different from the word
of God may seduce many simple souls that resort unto you. Besides that the occasion which hath come of
late hath come from none but such as have frequented your meetings, so that now they are flown off from
magistrates and ministers and since they have come to you. And besides that it will not well stand with
the commonwealth that families should be neglected for so many neighbors and dames and so much time
spent. We see no rule of God for this. We see not that any should have authority to set up any other
exercises besides what authority hath already set up and so what hurt comes of this you will be guilty of
and we for suffering you.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: Sir, I do not believe that to be so.
Gov. John Winthrop: Well, we see how it is. We must therefore put it away from you or restrain you
from maintaining this course.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: If you have a rule for it from God's word you may.
Gov. John Winthrop: We are your judges, and not you ours and we must compel you to it.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: If it please you by authority to put it down I will freely let you for I am subject
to your authority....
Deputy Gov. Thomas Dudley: I would go a little higher with Mrs. Hutchinson. About three years ago
we were all in peace. Mrs. Hutchinson, from that time she came hath made a disturbance, and some that
came over with her in the ship did inform me what she was as soon as she was landed. I being then in
place dealt with the pastor and teacher of Boston and desired them to enquire of her, and then I was
satisfied that she held nothing different from us. But within half a year after, she had vented divers of her
strange opinions and had made parties in the country, and at length it comes that Mr. Cotton and Mr.
Vane were of her judgment, but Mr. Cotton had cleared himself that he was not of that mind.
But now it appears by this woman's meeting that Mrs. Hutchinson hath so forestalled the minds of many
by their resort to her meeting that now she hath a potent party in the country. Now if all these things have
endangered us as from that foundation and if she in particular hath disparaged all our ministers in the land
that they have preached a covenant of works, and only Mr. Cotton a covenant of grace, why this is not to
be suffered, and therefore being driven to the foundation and it being found that Mrs. Hutchinson is she
that hath depraved all the ministers and hath been the cause of what is fallen out, why we must take away
the foundation and the building will fall.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: I pray, Sir, prove it that I said they preached nothing but a covenant of works.
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: Nothing but a covenant of works. Why a Jesuit may preach truth sometimes.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: Did I ever say they preached a covenant of works then?
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: If they do not preach a covenant of grace clearly, then they preach a
covenant of works.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: No, Sir. One may preach a covenant of grace more clearly than another, so I
said....
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: When they do preach a covenant of works do they preach truth?
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: Yes, Sir. But when they preach a covenant of works for salvation, that is not
truth.
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: I do but ask you this: when the ministers do preach a covenant of works do
they preach a way of salvation?
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: I did not come hither to answer questions of that sort.
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: Because you will deny the thing.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: Ey, but that is to be proved first.
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: I will make it plain that you did say that the ministers did preach a covenant
of works.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: I deny that.
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: And that you said they were not able ministers of the New Testament, but
Mr. Cotton only.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: If ever I spake that I proved it by God's word.
Court: Very well, very well.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: If one shall come unto me in private, and desire me seriously to tell them what I
thought of such an one, I must either speak false or true in my answer.
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: Likewise I will prove this that you said the gospel in the letter and words
holds forth nothing but a covenant of works and that all that do not hold as you do are in a covenant of
works.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: I deny this for if I should so say I should speak against my own judgment....
Mr. Hugh Peters: That which concerns us to speak unto, as yet we are sparing in, unless the court
command us to speak, then we shall answer to Mrs. Hutchinson notwithstanding our brethren are very
unwilling to answer.
(The Governor says to do so. Six ministers then testify to the particular charges and that she was "not only
difficult in her opinions, but also of an intemperate spirit")
Mr. Hugh Peters:.... (I asked her) What difference do you conceive to be between your teacher and us?...
Briefly, she told me there was a wide and broad difference.... He preaches the covenant of grace and you
the covenant of works, and that you are not able ministers of the New Testament and know no more than
the apostles did before the resurrection of Christ. I did then put it to her, What do you conceive of such a
brother? She answered he had not the seal of the spirit.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: If our pastor would shew his writings you should see what I said, and that many
things are not so as is reported.
Mr. Wilson: ...what is written [here now] I will avouch Hutchinson
Mr. Weld: (agrees that Peters related Hutchinson's words accurately)
Mr. Phillips: (agrees that Peters related Hutchinson's words accurately and added) Then I asked her of
myself (being she spake rashly of them all) because she never heard me at all. She likewise said that we
were not able ministers of the New Testament and her reason was because we were not sealed.
Mr. Simmes: Agrees that Peters related Hutchinson's words accurately
Mr. Shephard: Also to Same.
Mr. Eliot: (agrees that Peters related Hutchinson's words accurately)
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: I called these witnesses and you deny them. You see they have proved this
and you deny this, but it is clear. You say they preached a covenant of works and that they were not able
ministers of the New Testament; now there are two other things that you did affirm which were that the
scriptures in the letter of them held forth nothing but a covenant of works and likewise that those that
were under a covenant of works cannot be saved.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: Prove that I said so.
Gov. John Winthrop: Did you say so?
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: No, Sir, it is your conclusion.
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: What do I do charging of you if you deny what is so fully proved?
Gov. John Winthrop: Here are six undeniable ministers who say it is true and yet you deny that you did
say that they preach a covenant of works and that they were not able ministers of the gospel, and it
appears plainly that you have spoken it, and whereas you say that it was drawn from you in a way of
friendship, you did profess then that it was out of conscience that you spake....
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: ...They thought that I did conceive there was a difference between them and Mr.
Cotton.... I might say they might preach a covenant of works as did the apostles, but to preach a covenant
of works and to be under a covenant of works is another business.
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: There have been six witnesses to prove this and yet you deny it. (and then
he mentions a seventh, Mr. Nathaniel Ward)
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: I acknowledge using the words of the apostle to the Corinthians unto him, (Mr.
Ward) that they that were ministers of the letter and not the spirit did preach a covenant of works.
Gov. John Winthrop: Mrs. Hutchinson, the court you see hath laboured to bring you to acknowledge the
error of your way that so you might be reduced, the time grows late, we shall therefore give you a little
more time to consider of it and therefore desire that you attend the court again in the morning. . (The next
morning)
Gov. John Winthrop: We proceeded... as far as we could... There were divers things laid to her charge:
her ordinary meetings about religious exercises, her speeches in derogation of the ministers among us,
and the weakening of the hands and hearts of the people towards them. Here was sufficient proof made of
that which she was accused of, in that point concerning the ministers and their ministry, as that they did
preach a covenant of works when others did preach a covenant of grace, and that they were not able
ministers of the New Testament, and that they had not the seal of the spirit, and this was spoken not as
was pretended out of private conference, but out of conscience and warrant from scripture alleged the fear
of man is a snare and seeing God had given her a calling to it she would freely speak. Some other
speeches she used, as that the letter of the scripture held forth a covenant of works, and this is offered to
be proved by probable grounds....
Controversy--should the witnesses should be recalled and made swear an oath, as Mrs. Hutchinson
desired, is resolved against doing so
Gov. John Winthrop: I see no necessity of an oath in this thing seeing it is true and the substance of the
matter confirmed by divers, yet that all may be satisfied, if the elders will take an oath they shall have it
given them....
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: After that they have taken an oath I will make good what I say.
Gov. John Winthrop: Let us state the case, and then we may know what to do. That which is laid to Mrs.
Hutchinson charge is that, that she hath traduced the magistrates and ministers of this jurisdiction, that she
hath said the ministers preached a covenant of works and Mr. Cotton a covenant of grace, and that they
were not able ministers of the gospel, and she excuses it that she made it a private conference and with a
promise of secrecy, &c. Now this is charged upon her, and they therefore sent for her seeing she made it
her table talk, and then she said the fear of man was a snare and therefore she would not be affeared of
them....
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: Let her witnesses be called.
Gov. John Winthrop: Who be they?
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: Mr. Leveret and our teacher and Mr. Coggeshall.
Gov. John Winthrop: Mr. Coggeshall was not present.
Mr. Coggeshall: Yes, but I was. Only I desired to be silent till I should be called.
Gov. John Winthrop: Will you, Mr. Coggeshall, say that she did not say so?
Mr. Coggeshall: Yes, I dare say that she did not say all that which they lay against her.
Mr. Peters: How dare you look into the court to say such a word?
Mr. Coggeshall: Mr. Peters takes upon him to forbid me. I shall be silent.
Mr. Stoughton (assistant of the Court): Ey, but she intended this that they say.
Gov. John Winthrop: Well, Mr. Leveret, what were the words? I pray, speak.
Mr. Leveret: To my best remembrance when the elders did send for her, Mr. Peters did with much
vehemency and intreaty urge her to tell what difference there was between Mr. Cotton and them, and
upon his urging of her she said "The fear of man is a snare, but they that trust upon the Lord shall be
safe." And being asked wherein the difference was, she answered that they did not preach a covenant of
grace so clearly as Mr. Cotton did, and she gave this reason of it: because that as the apostles were for a
time without the spirit so until they had received the witness of the spirit they could not preach a covenant
of grace so clearly.
Gov. John Winthrop: Don't you remember that she said they were not able ministers of the New
Testament?
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: Mr. Weld and I had an hour's discourse at the window and then I spake that, if I
spake it...
Gov. John Winthrop: Mr. Cotton, the court desires that you declare what you do remember of the
conference which was at the time and is now in question.
Mr. Cotton: I did not think I should be called to bear witness in this cause and therefore did not labor to
call to remembrance what was done; but the greatest passage that took impression upon me was to this
purpose. The elders spake that they had heard that she had spoken some condemning words of their
ministry, and among other things they did first pray her to answer wherein she thought their ministry did
differ from mine. How the comparison sprang I am ignorant, but sorry I was that any comparison should
be between me and my brethren and uncomfortable it was. She told them to this purpose that they did not
hold forth a covenant of grace as I did. But wherein did we differ? Why she said that they did not hold
forth the seal of the spirit as he doth. Where is the difference there? Say they, why saith she, speaking to
one or other of them, I know not to whom. You preach of the seal of the spirit upon a work and he upon
free grace without a work or without respect to a work; he preaches the seal of the spirit upon free grace
and you upon a work. I told her I was very sorry that she put comparisons between my ministry and
theirs, for she had said more than I could myself, and rather I had that she had put us in fellowship with
them and not have made that discrepancy. She said, she found the difference.
This was the sum of the difference, nor did it seem to be so ill taken as it is and our brethren did say also
that they would not so easily believe reports as they had done and withal mentioned that they would speak
no more of it, some of them did; and afterwards some of them did say they were less satisfied than before.
And I must say that I did not find her saying that they were under a covenant of works, nor that she said
they did preach a covenant of works.
(more back and forth between Rev. John Cotton, trying to defend Mrs. Hutchinson, and Mr. Peters, about
exactly what Mrs. Hutchinson said)
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: If you please to give me leave I shall give you the ground of what I know to be
true. Being much troubled to see the falseness of the constitution of the Church of England, I had like to
have turned Separatist. Whereupon I kept a day of solemn humiliation and pondering of the thing; this
scripture was brought unto me--he that denies Jesus Christ to be come in the flesh is antichrist. This I
considered of and in considering found that the papists did not deny him to be come in the flesh, nor we
did not deny him--who then was antichrist? Was the Turk antichrist only? The Lord knows that I could
not open scripture; he must by his prophetical office open it unto me. So after that being unsatisfied in the
thing, the Lord was pleased to bring this scripture out of the Hebrews. he that denies the testament denies
the testator, and in this did open unto me and give me to see that those which did not teach the new
covenant had the spirit of antichrist, and upon this he did discover the ministry unto me; and ever since, I
bless the Lord, he hath let me see which was the clear ministry and which the wrong.
Since that time I confess I have been more choice and he hath left me to distinguish between the voice of
my beloved and the voice of Moses, the voice of John the Baptist and the voice of antichrist, for all those
voices are spoken of in scripture. Now if you do condemn me for speaking what in my conscience I know
to be truth I must commit myself unto the Lord.
Mr. Nowel (assistant to the Court): How do you know that was the spirit?
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: How did Abraham know that it was God that bid him offer his son, being a
breach of the sixth commandment?
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: By an immediate voice.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: So to me by an immediate revelation.
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: How! an immediate revelation.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: By the voice of his own spirit to my soul. I will give you another scripture,
Jeremiah 46: 27-28--out of which the Lord showed me what he would do for me and the rest of his
servants. But after he was pleased to reveal himself to me I did presently, like Abraham, run to Hagar.
And after that he did let me see the atheism of my own heart, for which I begged of the Lord that it might
not remain in my heart, and being thus, he did show me this (a twelvemonth after) which I told you of
before....
Therefore, I desire you to look to it, for you see this scripture fulfilled this day and therefore I desire you
as you tender the Lord and the church and commonwealth to consider and look what you do.
You have power over my body but the Lord Jesus hath power over my body and soul; and assure
yourselves thus much, you do as much as in you lies to put the Lord Jesus Christ from you, and if you go
on in this course you begin, you will bring a curse upon you and your posterity, and the mouth of the Lord
hath spoken it.
Dep. Gov. Thomas Dudley: What is the scripture she brings?
Mr. Stoughton (assistant to the Court): Behold I turn away from you.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: But now having seen him which is invisible I fear not what man can do unto
me.
Gov. John Winthrop: Daniel was delivered by miracle; do you think to be deliver'd so too?
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: I do here speak it before the court. I look that the Lord should deliver me by his
providence.... (because God had said to her) though I should meet with affliction, yet I am the same God
that delivered Daniel out of the lion's den, I will also deliver thee.
Mr. Harlakenden (assistant to the Court): I may read scripture and the most glorious hypocrite may
read them and yet go down to hell.
Mrs. Anne Hutchinson: It may be so....
DOCUMENT 5
Two of the most infamous female religious dissidents in Puritan Massachusetts, (Anne Hutchinson, who
provoked the Antinomian crisis, and Mary Dyer, a friend and follower who later became a Quaker
convert and martyr) were also typical colonial women and mothers.Although both successfully carried
numerous children into the world, both also experienced troubled pregnancies and still-borns with severe
birth defects. Governor Winthrop seized on these intimate tragedies as proof of God's judgment against
these "heretical" women and to decry the diabolical influence of the midwife, "Jane Hawkins, the wife of
Richard Hawkins, had liberty till the beginning of the third month, called May, and the magistrates (if she
did not depart before) to dispose of her; and, in the mean time, she is not to meddle in surgery or physic,
drink, plaistcrs, or oils, nor to question matters of religion, except with the elders for satisfaction."
(Colony Rec. I. 219). What does the description of these events in Winthrop's journal in 1637-1638
suggest about magisterial meddling in women's affairs of child-birth?
[After reporting on Anne Hutchinson's excommunication and banishment, his journal notes:]
The wife of one William Dyer, a milliner in the New Exchange, a very promp [proper] and fair
woman, and both of them notoriously infected with Mrs. Hutchinson's errors, and very censorious and
trouble-some, (she being of a very proud spirit, and much addicted to revelations,) had been delivered of
[a] child some few [four] months before, [October 17], and the child buried, (being stillborn,) and viewed
of none but Mrs. Hutchinson and the midwife, one Hawkins's wife, a rank familist (p. 313) // also ; and
another woman had a glimpse of it, who, not being able to keep counsel, as the other two did, some rumor
began to spread, that the child was a monster. One of the elders, hearing of it, asked Mrs. Hutchinson,
when she was ready to depart; whereupon she told him how it was, and said she meant to have it
chronicled, but excused her concealing of it till then, (by advice, as she said, of Mr. Cotton,) which
coming to the governour's knowledge, he called another of the magistrates and that elder, and sent for the
midwife, and examined her about it. At first she confessed only, that the head was defective and
misplaced, but being told that Mrs. Hutchinson had recalled [revealed] all, and that he intended to have it
taken up and viewed, she made this report of it, viz.: It was a woman child, stillborn, about two months
before the just time, having life a few hours before; it came hiplings till she turned it; it was of ordinary
bigness; it had a face, but no head, and the ears stood upon the shoulders and were like an ape's; it had
no forehead, but over the eyes four horns, hard and sharp; two of them were above one inch long, the
other two shorter; the eyes standing out, and the mouth also ; the nose hooked upward ; all over the breast
and back full of sharp pricks and scales, like a thornback; the navel and all the belly, with the distinction
of the sex, were where the back should be, and the back and hips before, where the belly should have
been; behind, between the shoulders, it had two mouths, and in each of them a piece of red flesh sticking
out; it had arms and legs as other children; but, instead of toes, it had on each foot three claws, like a
young fowl, with sharp talons. (p. 314) //
The governour speaking with Mr. Cotton about it, he told him the reason why he advised them to
conceal it: 1. Because he saw a providence of God in it, that the rest of the women, which were coming
and going in the time of her travail, should then be absent. 2. He considered, that, if it had been his own
case, he should have desired to have had it concealed. 3. He had known other monstrous births, which had
been concealed, and that he thought God might intend only the instruction of the parents, and such other
to whom it was shown [known], etc. The like apology he made for himself in public, which was well
accepted.
(2.)] The governour, with advice of some other of the magistrates and of the elders of Boston,
caused the said monster to be taken up, and though it were much corrupted, yet most of those things were
to be seen, as the horns and (p. 315) // claws, the scales, etc. When it died in the mother's body, (which
was about two hours before the birth,) the bed whereon the mother lay did shake, and withal there was
such a noisome savor, as most of the women were taken with extreme vomiting and purging, so as they
were forced to depart; and others of them their children were taken with convulsions, (which they never
had before nor after,) and so were sent for home, so as by these occasions it came to be concealed.
Another thing observable was, the discovery of it, which was just when Mrs. Hutchinson was cast
out of the church. For Mrs. Dyer going forth with her, a stranger asked, what young woman it was. The
others answered, it was the woman which had the monster; which gave the first occasion to some that
heard it to speak of it. The midwife, presently after this discovery, went out of the jurisdiction ; and
indeed it was time for her to be gone, for it was known, that she used to give young women oil of
mandrakes and other stuff to cause conception ; and she grew into great suspicion to be a witch, for it
was credibly reported, that, when she gave any medicines, (for she practised physic,) she would ask the
patient [party], if she did believe, she could help her, etc. (p. 316) //
Another observable passage was, that the father of this monster, coming home at this very time,
was, the next Lord's day, by an unexpected providence, § questioned in the church for divers monstrous
errors, as for, denying all inherent righteousness, etc., which he maintained, and was for the same
admonished. ... (p. 317)
...
[September, 1638]
Mrs. Hutchinson, being removed to the Isle of Aquiday, in the Naragansett Bay, after her time
was fulfilled, that she expected deliverance of a child, was delivered of a monstrous birth, which, being
diversely related in the country, (and, in the open assembly at Boston, upon a lecture day, declared by Mr.
Cotton to be twenty-seven singula frusta vel globules seminls masculini sine ulla mutatione aut
mixtura do femina [several lumps of man’s seed, without any alteration or mixture of anything from the
woman], and thereupon gathered that it might signify her error in denying inherent righteousness, but that
all was Christ in us, and nothing of ours in our faith, love, etc.). Hereupon the governor wrote to Mr.
Clarke, a physician and a preacher to those of the (p. 326) // island, to know the certainty thereof, who
returned him this answer: Mrs. Hutchinson, six weeks before her delivery, perceived her body to be
greatly distempered, and her spirits failing, and in that regard doubtful of life, she sent to me, etc., and not
long after (in immoderato fluore uterino) [immoderate fluor and urine] it was brought to light, and I was
called to see it, where I beheld, first unwashed, (and afterwards in warm water,) several lumps, every one
of them greatly confused, and if you consider each of them according to the representation of the whole,
they were altogether without form ; but if they were considered in respect of the parts of each lump of
flesh, then there was a rep-(p. 327) //resentation of innumerable distinct bodies in the form of a globe, not
much unlike the swims of some fish, so confusedly knit together by so many several strings, (which I
conceive were the beginning of veins and nerves,) so that it was impossible either to number the small
round pieces in every lump, much less to discern from whence every string did fetch its original, they
were so snarled one within another. The small globes I likewise opened, and perceived the matter of them
(setting aside the membrane in which it was involved, [they were involumed]) to be partly wind and
partly water. Of these several lumps there were about twenty-six, according to the relation of those, who
more narrowly searched into the number of them. I took notice of six or seven of some bigness; the rest
were small; but all as I have declared, except one or two, which differed much from the rest both in matter
and form; and the whole was like the [blank] of the liver, being simular and every where like itself. When
I had opened it, the matter seemed to be [hard] blood congealed. The governour, not satisfied with this
relation, spake after with the said Mr. Clarke, who thus cleared all the doubts: The lumps were twenty-six
or twenty-seven, distinct and not joined together; there came no secundine after them; six of them were as
great as his fist, and one as great as two fists; the rest each less than other, and the smallest about the
bigness of the top of his thumb. The globes were round things, included in the lumps, about the bigness of
a small Indian bean, and like the pearl in a man's eye. The two lumps, which differed from the rest, were
like liver or congealed blood, and had no small globes in them, as the rest had. Mr. Cotton, next lecture
day, acknowledged his error, etc., and that he had his information by a letter from her husband, etc. (p.
328) //
[Dr. John Clarke's report]
Mistris Hutchison being big with child, and growing towards the time of her labour, as other women doe,
she brought forth not one, (as mistris Dier did) but (what was more strang to amazement) 30. montrous
births or thereabouts, at once; some of them bigger, some lesser, some of one shape, some of another; few
of any perfect shape, none at all of them (as farre as I could ever learne) of humane shape.
Source: John Winthrop, esq. The History of New England, 1630-1649: From his Original Manuscripts, with Notes to Illustrate the Civil and
Ecclesiastical Concerns, the Geography, Settlement, and Institutions of the Country, and the Lives and Manners of the Principal Planters. Edited
by James Savage. (Boston: Little, Brown, & Company, new revised, ed., 1853), Vol. I.: p. 266-269, 327-328; Clarke cited in Anne Jacobson
Schutte, "'Such Monstrous Births': A Neglected Aspect of the Antinomian Controversy," Renaissance Quarterly 38:1 (Spring, 1985): 90.
DOCUMENT 6
Unlike so many self-proclaimed colonial "experts" on native culture, the founder of the colony of Rhode
Island, Roger Williams briefly lived among and maintained cordial relations with his Indian neighbors
and was therefore a sympathetic and reliable "observer" of their customs. In 1643, Williams published his
Key into the Language of America. What does his dictionary of Algonquian words reveal about the native
peoples' division of labor along gender lines in relation to the work of planting?
Aukeeteaûmen. To plant Corne.
Quttáunemun. To plant Corne.
Anakáusu. A Labourer.
Anakáusichick. Labourers
Aukeeteaûmitch. Planting time.
Aukeeteáhettit. When they set Corne
Nummautaukeeteaûmen. I have done planting.
Anaskhómmin. To how [hoe] or break up
Obs. The Women set or plant, weede, and hill, and gather and barne all the corne and Fruites of the field;
Yet sometimes the man himselfe, (either out of love to his Wife, or care for his Children, or being an old
man) will help the Woman which (by the custome of the Countrey) they are not bound to.
When a field is to be broken up [hoed], they have a very loving sociable speedy way to dispatch it: All the
neighbours men and Women forty, fifty, a hundred &c, joyne, and come in to help freely.
With friendly joyning they breake up their fields, build their Forts, hunt the Woods, stop and kill fish in
the Rivers, it being true with them as in all the World in the Affaires of Earth or Heaven: By concord little
things grow great, by discord the greatest come to nothing....
Anáskhig-anash. How, Howes. [hoe, hoes]
Anaskhómwock. They how.
Anaskhommonteamin. They break for me.
Anaskhomwáutowwin. A breaking up How.
The Indian Women to this day (notwithstanding our Howes, doe use their naturall Howes of shells and
Wood.
Monaskúnnemun. To weede.
Monaskunnummaûtowwin. A weeding or broad How.
Petascúnnemun, To hill the Corne.
Kepenúmmin & To gather Corne.
Wuttúnnemun.
Núnnowwa. Harvest time.
Anouant. At harvest.
Wuttúnnemitch & When harvest is in.
Ewáchim.
Pausinnummin. To dry the corne.
Which they doe carefully upon heapes and Mats many dayes, before they barne it up, covering it up with
Mats at night, and opening when the Sun is hot.
Sókenug. A heap of corne.
Obs. The woman of the family will commonly raise two or three heaps of twelve, fifteene, or twentie
bushells a heap, which they drie inround broad heaps; and if she have helpe of her children or friends,
much more.
Source: Roger Williams, A Key into the Language of America (London: 1643), pp. 100–102.
DOCUMENT 7
Does this excerpt from John Winthrop's journal dated 1645 implications for Puritan views of women's
supposed incapacities in New England?
MR. HOPKINS, the governor of Hartford upon Connecticut, came to Boston, and brought his wife with
him (a godly young woman, and of special parts), who was fallen into a sad infirmity, the loss of her
understanding and reason, which had been growing upon her divers years, by occasion of her giving
herself wholly to reading and writing, and had written many books. Her husband, being very loving and
tender of her, was loath to grieve her; but he saw his error, when it was too late. For if she had attended
her household affairs, and such things as belong to women, and not gone out of her way and calling to
meddle in such things as are proper for men, whose minds are stronger, etc., she had kept her wits, and
might have improved them usefully and honorably in the place God had set her.
He brought her to Boston, and left her with her brother, one Mr. Yale, a merchant, to try what means
might be had here for her. But no help could be had....
DOCUMENT 8
Although the most notorious "witchhunt" took place in Salem, Massachusetts in the 1690s, accusations of
witchcraft were not uncommon in Puritan New England. What does John Winthrop's journal entry for
June 4, 1648 imply about the beliefs of Massachusetts Puritans in the "Black Arts," and the evidence they
used to convict women healers as supposed witches?
June 4, 1648
At this court one Margaret Jones of Charlestown was indicted and found guilty of witchcraft and hanged
for it. The evidence against her was: 1, that she was found to have such a malignant touch, as many
persons (men, women, and children) whom she stroked or touched with any affection or displeasure or
etc. were taken with deafness, or vomiting, or other violent pains or sickness; 2, she practising physic and
her medicines being such things as (by her own confession) were harmless, [such] as aniseed, liquors, and
etc., yet [they] had extraordinary violent effects; 3, she would use to tell such [persons] as would not
make use of her physic that they would never be healed, and accordingly their diseases and hurts
continued, with relapses against the ordinary course and beyond the apprehension of all physicians and
surgeons; 4, some things which she foretold came to pass accordingly; other things she could tell of (such
as secret speeches, etc.), which she had no ordinary means to come to the knowledge of; 5, she had (upon
search) an apparent teat in her secret parts as fresh as if it had been newly sucked, and after it had been
scanned, upon a forced search, that [teat] was withered and another began on the opposite side; 6, in the
prison, in the clear daylight, there was seen in her arms, she sitting on the floor and her clothes up, etc., a
little child, which ran from her into another room, and the officer following it, it was vanished. The like
child was seen in two other places, to which she had relation; and one maid that saw it, fell sick upon it,
and was cured by the said Margaret, who used means employed to that end. Her behaviour at her trial was
very intemperate, lying notoriously, and railing upon the jury and witnesses, etc., and in the like
distemper she died. The same day and hour she was executed, there was a very great tempest at
Connecticut, which blew down many trees, etc.
DOCUMENT 9
Anne Dudley Bradstreet (ca. 1612-1672), although the daughter and wife of men who would serve as
governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, was in many ways typical of the Puritans who migrated to
the region, raising a large family of eight children and taking care of domestic affairs during her
husband's absences from the family farm. Less typically, somehow this well-educated matron also found
the time to write poetry, a volume of which was published without her knowledge in London by her
brother-in-law in 1650. Although much of her work smacks of Puritan piety, does it also exhibit any
distinctively female qualities and concerns?
The Prologue
1
To sing of wars, of captains, and of kings,
Of cities founded, commonwealth begun,
For my mean pen are too superior things:
Or how they all, or each their dates have run
Let poets and historians set these forth,
My obscure lines shall not so dim their worth.
2
But when my wond'ring eyes and envious heart
Great Bartas sugared lines do but read o'er,
Fool I do grudge the Muses did not part
Twixt him and me that overfluent store;
A Bartas can do what a Bartas will
But simple I according to my skill.
3
From schoolboy's tongue no rhetoric we expect,
Nor yet a sweet consort from broken strings,
Nor perfect beauty where's a main defect;
My foolish, broken, blemished Muse so sings,
And this to mend, alas, no art is able,
"Cause nature made it so irreparable.
4
Nor can I, like that fluent sweet tongued Greek
Who lisped at first, in future times speak plain.
By art he gladly found what he did seek,
A full requital of his striving pain.
Art can do much, but this maxim's most sure:
A weak or wounded brain admits no cure.
5
I am obnoxious to each carping tongue
Who says my hand a needle better fits,
A poet's pen all scorn I should thus wrong,
For such despite they cast on female wits;
If what I do prove well, it won't advance,
They'll say it's stol'n, or else it was by chance.
6
But sure the antique Greeks were far more mild
Else of our sex, why feigned they those nine
And poesy made Calliope's own child;
So 'mongst the rest they placed the arts divine;
But this weak knot they will full soon untie,
The Greeks did nought, but play the fools and lie.
7
Let Greeks be Greeks, and women what they are
Men have precedency and still excel,
It is but vain unjustly to wage war;
Men can do best, and women know it well.
Preeminence in all and each is yours;
Yet grant some small acknowledgement of ours.
8
And oh ye high flown quills that soar the skies,
And ever with your prey still catch your praise,
If e'er you deign these lowly lines your eyes,
Give thyme or parsley wreath, I ask no bays;
This mean and unrefined ore of mine
Will make your glist'ring gold but more to shine.
A Dialogue between Old England and New
New England.
Alas, dear Mother, fairest Queen and best,
With honour, wealth, and peace happy and blest,
What ails thee hang thy head, and cross thine arms,
And sit i' the dust to sigh these sad alarms?
What deluge of new woes thus over-whelm
The glories of thy ever famous Realm?
What means this wailing tone, this mournful guise?
Ah, tell thy Daughter; she may sympathize.
Old England.
Art ignorant indeed of these my woes,
Or must my forced tongue these griefs disclose,
And must my self dissect my tatter'd state,
Which Amazed Christendom stands wondering at?
And thou a child, a Limb, and dost not feel
My weak'ned fainting body now to reel?
This physic-purging-potion I have taken
Will bring Consumption or an Ague quaking,
Unless some Cordial thou fetch from high,
Which present help may ease my malady.
If I decease, dost think thou shalt survive?
Or by my wasting state dost think to thrive?
Then weigh our case, if 't be not justly sad.
Let me lament alone, while thou art glad.
New England.
And thus, alas, your state you much deplore
In general terms, but will not say wherefore.
What Medicine shall I seek to cure this woe,
If th' wound's so dangerous, I may not know?
But you, perhaps, would have me guess it out.
What, hath some Hengist like that Saxon stout
By fraud and force usurp'd thy flow'ring crown,
Or by tempestuous Wars thy fields trod down?
Or hath Canutus, that brave valiant Dane,
The regal peaceful Sceptre from thee ta'en?
Or is 't a Norman whose victorious hand
With English blood bedews thy conquered Land?
Or is 't intestine Wars that thus offend?
Do Maud and Stephen for the Crown contend?
Do Barons rise and side against their King,
And call in Foreign aid to help the thing?
Must Edward be depos'd? Or is 't the hour
That second Richard must be clapp'd i' th' Tower?
Or is it the fatal jar, again begun,
That from the red, white pricking Roses sprung?
Must Richmond's aid the Nobles now implore
To come and break the tushes of the Boar?
If none of these, dear Mother, what's your woe?
Pray, do not fear Spain's bragging Armado.
Doth your Ally, fair France, conspire your wrack,
Or doth the Scots play false behind your back?
Doth Holland quit you ill for all your love?
Whence is this storm, from Earth or Heaven above?
Is 't drought, is 't Famine, or is 't Pestilence?
Dost feel the smart, or fear the consequence?
Your humble Child entreats you shew your grief.
Though Arms nor Purse she hath for your relief-Such is her poverty,--yet shall be found
A suppliant for your help, as she is bound.
Old England.
I must confess some of those Sores you name
My beauteous Body at this present maim,
But foreign Foe nor feigned friend I fear,
For they have work enough, thou knowest, elsewhere.
Nor is it Alcie's son and Henry's Daughter
Whose proud contention cause this slaughter;
Nor Nobles siding to make John no King,
French Louis unjustly to the Crown to bring;
No Edward, Richard, to lose rule and life,
Nor no Lancastrians to renew old strife;
No Crook-backt Tyrant now usurps the Seat,
Whose tearing tusks did wound, and kill, and threat.
No Duke of York nor Earl of March to soil
Their hands in Kindred's blood whom they did foil;
No need of Tudor Roses to unite:
None knows which is the Red or which the White.
Spain's braving Fleet a second time is sunk.
France knows how of my fury she hath drunk
By Edward third and Henry fifth of fame;
Her Lilies in my Arms avouch the same.
My Sister Scotland hurts me now no more,
Though she hath been injurious heretofore.
What Holland is, I am in some suspense,
But trust not much unto his Excellence.
For wants, sure some I feel, but more I fear;
And for the Pestilence, who knows how near?
Famine and Plague, two sisters of the Sword,
Destruction to a Land doth soon afford.
They're for my punishments ordain'd on high,
Unless thy tears prevent it speedily.
But yet I answer not what you demand
To shew the grievance of my troubled Land.
Before I tell the effect I'll shew the cause,
Which are my sins--the breach of sacred Laws:
Idolatry, supplanter of a Nation,
With foolish superstitious adoration,
Are lik'd and countenanc'd by men of might,
The Gospel is trod down and hath no right.
Church Offices are sold and bought for gain
That Pope had hope to find Rome here again.
For Oaths and Blasphemies did ever ear
From Beelzebub himself such language hear?
What scorning of the Saints of the most high!
What injuries did daily on them lie!
What false reports, what nick-names did they take,
Not for their own, but for their Master's sake!
And thou, poor soul, wast jeer'd among the rest;
Thy flying for the Truth I made a jest.
For Sabbath-breaking and for Drunkenness
Did ever Land profaneness more express?
From crying bloods yet cleansed am not I,
Martyrs and others dying causelessly.
How many Princely heads on blocks laid down
For nought but title to a fading Crown!
'Mongst all the cruelties which I have done,
Oh, Edward's Babes, and Clarence's hapless Son,
O Jane, why didst thou die in flow'ring prime?-Because of Royal Stem, that was thy crime.
For Bribery, Adultery, for Thefts, and Lies
Where is the Nation I can't paralyze?
With Usury, Extortion, and Oppression,
These be the Hydras of my stout transgression;
These be the bitter fountains, heads, and roots
Whence flow'd the source, the sprigs, the boughs, and fruits.
Of more than thou canst hear or I relate,
That with high hand I still did perpetrate,
For these were threat'ned the woeful day
I mocked the Preachers, put it fair away.
The Sermons yet upon record do stand
That cried destruction to my wicked Land.
These Prophets' mouths (all the while) was stopt,
Unworthily, some backs whipt, and ears crept;
Their reverent cheeks bear the glorious marks
Of stinking, stigmatizing Romish Clerks;
Some lost their livings, some in prison pent,
Some grossly fined, from friends to exile went:
Their silent tongues to heaven did vengeance cry,
Who heard their cause, and wrongs judg'd righteously,
And will repay it sevenfold in my lap.
This is fore-runner of my after-clap.
Nor took I warning by my neighbors' falls.
I saw sad Germany's dismantled walls,
I saw her people famish'd, Nobles slain,
Her fruitful land a barren heath remain.
I saw (unmov'd) her Armies foil'd and fled,
Wives forc'd, babes toss'd, her houses calcined.
I saw strong Rochelle yield'd to her foe,
Thousands of starved Christians there also.
I saw poor Ireland bleeding out her last,
Such cruelty as all reports have past.
Mine heart obdurate stood not yet aghast.
Now sip I of that cup, and just 't may be
The bottom dregs reserved are for me.
New England.
To all you've said, sad mother, I assent.
Your fearful sins great cause there 's to lament.
My guilty hands (in part) hold up with you,
A sharer in your punishment's my due.
But all you say amounts to this effect,
Not what you feel, but what you do expect.
Pray, in plain terms, what is your present grief?
Then let's join heads and hands for your relief.
Old England.
Well, to the matter, then. There's grown of late
'Twixt King and Peers a question of state:
Which is the chief, the law, or else the King?
One saith, it's he; the other, no such thing.
My better part in Court of Parliament
To ease my groaning land shew their intent
To crush the proud, and right to each man deal,
To help the Church, and stay the Common-Weal.
So many obstacles comes in their way
As puts me to a stand what I should say.
Old customs, new Prerogatives stood on.
Had they not held law fast, all had been gone,
Which by their prudence stood them in such stead
They took high Strafford lower by the head,
And to their Laud be 't spoke they held 'n th' Tower
All England's metropolitan that hour.
This done, an Act they would have passed fain
No prelate should his Bishopric retain.
Here tugg'd they hard indeed, for all men saw
This must be done by Gospel, not by law.
Next the Militia they urged sore.
This was denied, I need not say wherefore.
The King, displeased, at York himself absents.
They humbly beg return, shew their intents.
The writing, printing, posting to and fro,
Shews all was done; I'll therefore let it go.
But now I come to speak of my disaster.
Contention's grown 'twixt Subjects and their Master,
They worded it so long they fell to blows,
That thousands lay on heaps. Here bleeds my woes.
I that no wars so many years have known
Am now destroy'd and slaughter'd by mine own.
But could the field alone this strife decide,
One battle, two, or three I might abide,
But these may be beginnings of more woe-Who knows, the worst, the best may overthrow!
Religion, Gospel, here lies at the stake,
Pray now, dear child, for sacred Zion's sake,
Oh, pity me in this sad perturbation,
My plundered Towns, my houses' devastation,
My ravisht virgins, and my young men slain,
My wealthy trading fallen, my dearth of grain.
The seedtime's come, but Ploughman hath no hope
Because he knows not who shall inn his crop.
The poor they want their pay, their children bread,
Their woful mothers' tears unpitied.
If any pity in thy heart remain,
Or any child-like love thou dost retain,
For my relief now use thy utmost skill,
And recompense me good for all my ill.
New England.
Dear mother, cease complaints, and wipe your eyes,
Shake off your dust, cheer up, and now arise.
You are my mother, nurse, I once your flesh,
Your sunken bowels gladly would refresh.
Your griefs I pity much but should do wrong,
To weep for that we both have pray'd for long,
To see these latter days of hop'd-for good,
That Right may have its right, though 't be with blood.
After dark Popery the day did clear;
But now the Sun in's brightness shall appear.
Blest be the Nobles of thy Noble Land
With (ventur'd lives) for truth's defence that stand.
Blest be thy Commons, who for Common good
And thy infringed Laws have boldly stood.
Blest be thy Counties, who do aid thee still
With hearts and states to testify their will.
Blest be thy Preachers, who do cheer thee on.
Oh, cry: the sword of God and Gideon!
And shall I not on them wish Mero's curse
That help thee not with prayers, arms, and purse?
And for my self, let miseries abound
If mindless of thy state I e'er be found.
These are the days the Church's foes to crush,
To root out Prelates, head, tail, branch, and rush.
Let's bring Baal's vestments out, to make a fire,
Their Mitres, Surplices, and all their tire,
Copes, Rochets, Croziers, and such trash,
And let their names consume, but let the flash
Light Christendom, and all the world to see
We hate Rome's Whore, with all her trumpery.
Go on, brave Essex, shew whose son thou art,
Not false to King, nor Country in thy heart,
But those that hurt his people and his Crown,
By force expel, destroy, and tread them down.
Let Gaols be fill'd with th' remnant of that pack,
And sturdy Tyburn loaded till it crack.
And ye brave Nobles, chase away all fear,
And to this blessed Cause closely adhere.
O mother, can you weep and have such Peers?
When they are gone, then drown your self in tears,
If now you weep so much, that then no more
The briny Ocean will o'erflow your shore.
These, these are they (I trust) with Charles our king,
Out of all mists such glorious days will bring
That dazzled eyes, beholding, much shall wonder
At that thy settled Peace, thy wealth, and splendour,
Thy Church and Weal establish'd in such manner
That all shall joy that thou display'dst thy banner,
And discipline erected so, I trust,
That nursing Kings shall come and lick thy dust.
Then Justice shall in all thy Courts take place
Without respect of persons or of case.
Then bribes shall cease, and suits shall not stick long,
Patience and purse of Clients for to wrong.
Then High Commissions shall fall to decay,
And Pursuivants and Catchpoles want their pay.
So shall thy happy Nation ever flourish,
When truth and righteousness they thus shall nourish.
When thus in Peace, thine Armies brave send out
To sack proud Rome, and all her vassals rout.
There let thy name, thy fame, and valour shine,
As did thine Ancestors' in Palestine,
And let her spoils full pay with int'rest be
Of what unjustly once she poll'd from thee.
Of all the woes thou canst let her be sped,
Execute to th' full the vengeance threatened.
Bring forth the beast that rul'd the world with's beck,
And tear his flesh, and set your feet on's neck,
And make his filthy den so desolate
To th' 'stonishment of all that knew his state.
This done, with brandish'd swords to Turkey go,-(For then what is it but English blades dare do?)
And lay her waste, for so's the sacred doom,
And do to Gog as thou hast done to Rome.
Oh Abraham's seed, lift up your heads on high,
For sure the day of your redemption's nigh.
The scales shall fall from your long blinded eyes,
And him you shall adore who now despise.
Then fullness of the Nations in shall flow,
And Jew and Gentile to one worship go.
Then follows days of happiness and rest.
Whose lot doth fall to live therein is blest.
No Canaanite shall then be found 'n th' land,
And holiness on horses' bells shall stand.
If this make way thereto, then sigh no more,
But if at all thou didst not see 't before.
Farewell, dear mother; Parliament, prevail,
And in a while you'll tell another tale.
Of the four Ages of Man.
LO now four other act upon the stage,
Childhood and Youth, the Manly & Old age;
The first son unto flegm, Grand-child to water,
Unstable, supple, cold and moist's his nature.
The second frolick, claims his pedegree
From blood and air, for hot and moist is he.
The third of fire and Choler is compos'd
Vindicative and quarrelsome dispos'd.
The last of earth, and heavy melancholy,
Solid, hating all lightness and all folly.
Childhood was cloth'd in white & green to show
His spring was intermixed with some snow:
Upon his head nature a Garland set
Of Primrose, Daizy & the Violet.
Such cold mean flowrs the spring puts forth betime
Before the sun hath throughly heat the clime.
His Hobby striding did not ride but run,
And in his hand an hour-glass new begun,
In danger every moment of a fall,
And when tis broke then ends his life and all:
But if he hold till it have run its last,
Then may he live outl threescore years or past.
Next Youth came up in gorgeous attire,
(As that fond age, doth most of all desire)
His Suit of Crimson and his scarfe of green,
His pride in's countenance was quickly seen,
Garland of roses, pinks and gilli-flowers
Seemed on's head to grow bedew'd with showers:
His face as fresh as is Aurora fair,
When blushing she first 'gins to light the air.
No wooden horse, but one of mettal try'd,
He seems to fly or swim, and not to ride.
Then prancing on the stage, about he wheels,
But as he went death waited at his heels.
The next came up in a more graver sort,
As one that cared for a good report,
His sword by's side, and choler in his eyes,
But neither us'd as yet, for he was wise:
Of Autumns fruits a basket on his arm,
His golden God in's purse, which was his charm.
And last of all, to act upon this stage
Leaning upon his staff came up Old Age,
Under his arm a sheaf of wheat he bore,
An harvest of the best, what needs he more?
In's other hand a glass ev'n almost run,
Thus writ about This out then am done.
His hoary hairs, and grave aspect made way,
And all gave ear to what he had to say.
These being met each in his equipage
Intend to speak according to their age:
But wise Old age did with all gravity
To childish Childhood give precedency,
And to the rest his reason mildly told,
That he was young before he grew so old.
To do as he each one full soon assents,
Their method was that of the Elements,
That each should tell what of himself he knew,
Both good and bad, but yet no more then's true.
With heed now stood three ages of frail man,
To hear the child, who crying thus began.
Childhood.
AH me! conceiv'd in sin and born with sorrow,
A nothing, here to day and gone to morrow,
Whose mean beginning blushing can't reveal,
But night and darkness must with shame conceal.
My mothers breeding sickness I will spare,
Her nine moneths weary burthen not declare.
To shew her bearing pains, I should do wrong,
To tell those pangs which can't be told by tongue:
With tears into this world I did arrive,
My mother still did waste as I did thrive,
Who yet with love and all alacity,
Spending, was willing to be spent for me.
With wayward cryes I did disturb her rest,
Who sought still to appease me with the breast:
With weary arms she danc'd and By By sung,
When wretched I ingrate had done the wrong.
When infancy was past, my childishness
Did act all folly that it could express,
My silliness did only take delight
In that which riper age did scorn and slight.
In Rattles, Baubles and such toyish stuff,
My then ambitious thoughts were low enough:
My high-born soul so straitly was confin'd,
That its own worth it did not know nor mind:
This little house of flesh did spacious count,
Through ignorance all troubles did surmount;
Yet this advantage had mine ignorance
Freedom from envy and from arrogance.
How to be rich or great I did not cark,
A Baron or a Duke ne'r made my mark,
Nor studious was Kings favours how to buy,
With costly presence or base flattery:
No office coveted wherein I might
Make strong my self and turn aside weak right:
No malice bare to this or that great Peer,
Nor unto buzzing whisperers gave ear:
I gave no hand nor vote for death or life,
I'd nought to do 'twixt King and peoples strife.
No Statist I, nor Martilist i' th field
Where ere I went mine innocence was shield.
My quarrels not for Diadems did rise,
But for an apple, plum, or some such prize:
My strokes did cause no blood no wounds or skars,
My little wrath did end soon as my Warrs:
My Duel was no challenge nor did seek
My foe should weltring in his bowels reek.
I had no suits at law neighbours to vex,
Nor evidence for lands did me perplex.
I fear'd no storms, nor all the winds that blowes,
I had no ships at sea; nor fraights to loose.
I fear'd no drought nor wet, I had no crop,
Nor yet on future things did set my hope.
This was mine innocence, but ah! the seeds
Lay raked up of all the cursed weeds
Which sprouted forth in mine ensuing age,
As he can tel that next comes on the stage:
But yet me let me relate before I go
The sins and dangers I am subject to,
Stained from birth with Adams sinfull fact,
Thence I began to sin as soon as act:
A perverse will, a love to what's forbid,
A serpents sting in pleasing face lay hid:
A lying tongue as soon as it could speak,
And fifth Commandment do daily break.
Oft stubborn, peevish, sullen, pout and cry,
Then nought can please, and yet I know not why.
As many are my sins, so dangers too;
For sin brings sorrow, sickness death and woe:
And though I miss the tossings of the mind,
Yet griefs in my frail flesh I still do find.
What gripes of wind mine infancy did pain,
What tortures I in breeding teeth sustain?
What crudityes my stomack cold hath bred,
Whence vomits, flux and worms have issued?
What breaches, knocks and falls I daily have,
And some perhaps I carry to my grave,
Sometimes in fire, sometimes in water fall,
Strangely presev'd, yet mind it not at all:
At home, abroad my dangers manifold,
That wonder tis, my glass till now doth hold.
I've done; unto my elders I give way,
For tis but little that a child can say.
Youth.
MY goodly cloathing, and my beauteous skin
Declare some greater riches are within:
But what is best I'le first present to view,
And then the worst in a more ugly hue:
For thus to doe we on this stage assemble,
Then let not him that hath most craft dissemble.
My education and my learnings such,
As might my self and others profit much;
With nurture trained up in virtues schools
Of science, arts and tongues I know the rules,
The manners of the court I also know,
And so likewise what they in'th Country doe.
The brave attempts of valiant knights I prize,
That dare scale walls and forts rear'd to the skies.
The snorting Horse, the trumpet, Drum I like,
The glitt'ring sword, the Pistol and the Pike:
I cannot lye intrench'd before a town,
Nor wait till good success our hopes doth crown:
I scorn the heavy Corslet, musket-proof;
I fly to catch the bullet thats aloof.
Though thus in field, at home to all most kind,
So affable, that I can suit each mind.
I can insinuate into the breast,
And by my mirth can raise the heart deprest:
Sweet musick raps my brave harmonious soul,
My high thoughts elevate beyond the pole:
My wit, my bounty, and my courtesie,
Make all to place their future hopes on me.
This is my best, but Youth is known, Alas!
To be as wild as is the snuffing Ass:
As vain as froth, or vanity can be,
That who would see vain man, may look on me.
My gifts abusd, my education lost,
My wofull Parents longing hopes are crost,
My wit evaporates in merriment,
My valour in some beastly quarrell's spent:
My lust doth hurry me to all that's ill:
I know no law nor reason but my will.
Sometimes lay wait to take a wealthy purse,
Or stab the man in's own defence (that's worse)
Sometimes I cheat (unkind) a female heir
Of all at once, who not so wise as fair
Trusteth my loving looks and glozing tongue,
Untill her friends, treasure and honour's gone.
Sometimes I sit carousing others health,
Untill mine own be gone, my wit and wealth.
From pipe to pot, from pot to words and blows,
For he that loveth wine, wanteth no woes.
Whole nights with Ruffins, Roarers Fidlers spend,
To all obscenity my ears I lend:
All Counsell hate, which tends to make me wise,
And dearest friends count for mine enemies.
If any care I take tis to be fine,
For sure my suit, more then my virtues shine
If time from leud Companions I can spare,
'Tis spent to curle, and pounce my new-bought hair.
Some new Adonis I do strive to be;
Sardanapalus now survives in me.
Cards, Dice, and Oathes concomitant I love,
To playes, to masques, to Taverns still I move.
And in a word, if what I am you'd hear,
Seek out a Brittish bruitish Cavaleer:
Such wretch, such Monster am I, but yet more,
I have no heart at all this to deplore,
Remembring not the dreadfull day of doom,
Nor yet that heavy reckoning soon to come.
Though dangers do attend me every hour,
And gastly Death oft threats me with his power,
Sometimes by wounds in idle Combates taken,
Sometimes with Agues all my body shaken:
Sometimes by fevers, all my moisture drinking,
My heart lies frying, & mine eyes are sinking,
Sometimes the Quincey, painful Pleurisie,
With sad affrighrs of death doth menace me:
Sometimes the two fold Pox me fore be:marrs
With outward marks, & inward loathsome scarrs,
Sometimes the Phrenzy strangly mads my brain,
That oft for it in Bedlam I remain.
Too many my diseases to recite,
That wonder tis, I yet behold the light,
That yet my bed in darkness is not made,
And I in black oblivions Den now laid.
Of aches full my bones, of woe my heart,
Clap'd in that prison, never thence to start.
Thus I have said, and what I've been, you see
Childhood and Youth are vain ye vanity.
Middle Age.
CHILDHOOD and Youth (forgot) I've sometimes seen
And now am grown more staid who have bin green
What they have done, the same was done by me,
As was their praise or shame, so mine must be.
Now age is more; more good you may expect,
But more mine age, the more is my defect.
When my wild oates were sown & ripe and mown
I then receiv'd an harvest of mine own.
My reason then bad judge how little hope
My empty seed should yield a better crop:
Then with both hands I graspt the world together
Thus out of one extream into another:
But yet laid hold on virtue seemingly,
Who climbs without hold climbs dangerously:
Be my condition mean, I then take pains
My Family to keep, but not for gains.
If rich, I'm urged then to gather more,
To bear a port i' th'world, and feed the poor.
If noble, then mine honour to maintain,
If not, riches nobility can gain.
For time, for place, likewise for each Relation
I wanted not, my ready allegation.
Yet all my powers for self ends are not spent,
For hundreds bless me for my bounty lent.
Whose backs I've cloth'd, and bellyes I have fed
With mine own fleece, & with my household bread,
Yea, justice I have done, was I in place,
To chear the good, and wicked to deface.
The proud I crush't, th'oppressed I set free,
The lyars curb'd, but nourisht verity.
Was I a Pastor, I my Flock did feed,
And gently lead the Lambs as they had need.
A Captain I, with Skill I train'd my Band,
And shew'd them how in face of Foes to stand.
A Soldier I, with speed I did obey
As readily, as could my leader say.
Was I a labourer, I wrought all day
As cheerfully as e're I took my pay.
Thus hath mine Age in all sometimes done well,
Sometimes again, mine Age been worse than Hell.
In meanness, greatness, riches, poverty,
Did toyle, did broyle, oppress'd, did steal and lye.
Was I as poor as poverty could be,
Then baseness was Companion unto me.
Such scum as hedges and high-ways do yield,
As neither sow, nor reap, nor plant, nor build,
If to Agriculture I was ordain'd,
Great labours, sorrows, Crosses I sustain'd.
The early Cock did summon but in vain
My wakeful thoughts up to my painful gain:
My weary Beast rest from his toyle can find,
But if I rest the more distrest my mind.
If happiness my sordidness hath found,
'Twas in the Crop of my manured ground.
My thriving Cattle and my new-milch-Cow,
My fleeced Sheep, and fruitful farrowing Sow:
To greater things I never did aspire,
My dunghil thoughts or hopes could reach no higher.
If to be rich or great it was my fate,
How was I broyl'd with envy and with hate?
Greater then was the great'st was my desire,
And thirst for honour, set my heart on fire:
And by Ambition's sails I was so carried,
That over Flats and sands, and Rocks I hurried,
Opprest and sunk, and stav'd all in my way
That did oppose me, to my longed Bay.
My thirst was higher then nobility,
I oft long'd sore to tast on Royalty:
Then Kings must be depos'd or put to flight,
I might possess that Throne which was their right;
There set, I rid my self straight out of hand
Of such Competitors, as might in time withstand.
Then thought my state firm founded sure to last,
But in a trice 'tis ruin'd by a blast,
Though cemented with more then noble bloud,
The bottom nought, and so no longer stood.
Sometimes vain glory is the only baite
Whereby my empty Soul is lur'd and caught.
Be I of wit, of learning, and of parts,
I judge I should have room in all mens hearts.
And envy gnaws if any do surmount,
I hate, not to be held in high'st account.
If Bias like I'm stript unto my skin,
I glory in my wealth I have within.
Thus good and bad, and what I am you see,
Now in a word, what my diseases be.
The vexing stone in bladder and in reins,
The Strangury torments me with sore pains.
The windy Cholick oft my bowels rend,
To break the darksome prison, where it's pen'd.
The Cramp and Gout doth sadly torture me,
And the restraining, lame Sciatica.
The Asma, Megrim, Palsy, Lethargie,
The quartan Ague, dropsy, Lunacy:
Subject to all distempers (that's the truth)
Though some more incident, to Age or Youth.
And to conclude, I may not tedious be,
Man at his best estate is vanity.
Old Age.
WHAT you have been, ev'n such have I before:
And all you say, say I, and something more.
Babes innocence, youths wildness I have seen,
And in perplexed middle age have been:
Sickness, dangers, and anxieties have past,
And on this stage am come to act my last.
I have been young, and strong, and wise as you:
But now Bis pueri senes, is too true.
In every Age I've found much vanity,
An end of all perfection now I see.
It's not my valour, honour, nor my gold,
My ruin'd house now falling can uphold.
It's not my learning Rhetorick wit so large,
Hath now the power, death's warfare to discharge.
It's not my goodly state, nor bed of downe
That can refresh, or ease, if Conscience frown.
Nor from Alliance can I now have hope,
But what I have done well, that is my prop;
He that in youth is godly, wise and sage,
Provides a staff then to support his Age.
Mutations great, some joyful and some sad,
In this short pilgrimage I oft have had.
Sometimes the Heavens with plenty smil'd on me
Sometimes again rain'd all Adversity.
Sometimes in honour, sometimes in disgrace,
Sometime an Abject, then again in place.
Such private changes oft mine eyes have seen,
In various times of state I've also been.
I've seen a Kingdome flourish like a tree,
When it was rul'd by that Celestial she;
And like a Cedar, others so surmount:
That but for shrubs they did themselves account.
Then saw I France and Holland, sav'd Cales won,
And Philip and Albertus half undone.
I saw all peace at home, terror to foes,
But ah, I saw at last those eyes to close,
And then methought the day at noon grew dark
When it had lost that radiant Sun-like Spark:
In midst of griefs I saw our hopes revive,
(For 'twas our hopes then kept our hearts alive.)
We changed our queen for king under whose rayes
We joy'd in many blest and prosperous dayes.
I've seen a Prince, the glory of our land
In prime of youth seiz'd by heavens angry hand,
Which fil'd our hearts with fears, with tears our eyes,
Wailing his fate, & our own destinies.
I've seen from Rome an execrable thing,
A Plot to blow up Nobles and their King,
But saw their horrid fact soon disappointed,
And Land & Nobles sav'd with their anointed.
I've Princes seen to live on others lands;
A royal one by gifts from strangers hands
Admired for their magnanimity,
Who lost a Prince-dome and a Monarchy.
I've seen designs for Ree and Rochel croft,
And Poor Palatinate for ever lost.
I've seen unworthy men advanced high,
(And better ones suffer extremity)
But neither favor, riches, title, State,
Could length their dayes or once reverse their fate
I've seen one stab'd, and some to loose their heads
And others fly, struck both with gilt and dread.
I've seen and so have you, for tis but late,
The desolation of a goodly State,
Plotted and acted so that none can tell,
Who gave the counsel, but the Prince of hell,
Three hundred thousand slaughtered innocents,
By bloudy Popish, hellish miscreants:
Oh may you live, and so you will I trust
To see them swill in bloud untill they burst.
I've seen a King by force thrust from his throne,
And an Usurper subt'ly mount thereon.
I've seen a state unmoulded, rent in twain,
But ye may live to see't made up again.
I've seen it plunder'd, taxt and soak'd in bloud,
But out of evill you may see much good.
What are my thoughts, this is no time to say.
Men may more freely speak another day.
These are no old-wives tales, but this is truth.
We old men love to tell what's done in youth.
But I return from whence I stept awry,
My memory is bad, my brain is dry:
Mine Almond tree, grey hairs, doe flourish now,
And back once straight, apace begins to bow:
My grinders now are few, my sight doth fail,
My skin is wrinkled, and my cheeks are pale,
No more rejoyce at musicks pleasing noise,
But waking glad to hear the cocks shrill voice:
I cannot scent savours of pleasant meat,
Nor sapors find in what I drink or eat:
My arms and hands once strong have lost their might
I cannot labour, much less can I fight.
My comely legs as nimble as the Roe
Now stiff and numb, can hardly creep or goe,
My heart sometimes as fierce as Lion bold,
Now trembling is, all fearful sad and cold;
My golden Bowl and silver Cord e're long
Shall both be broke, by racking death so stronge:
Then shall I go whence I shall come no more,
Sons, Nephews, leave my farewel to deplore.
In pleasures and in labours I have found
That Earth can give no consolation sound;
To great to rich, to poor, to young, to old,
To mean, to noble, fearful or to bold:
From King to begger, all degrees shall find
But vanity vexation of the mind.
Yea, knowing much, the pleasants life of all,
Hath yet among those sweets some bitter gall;
Though reading others works doth much refresh,
Yet studying much brings weariness to th' flesh:
My studies, labours, readings all are done,
And my last period now ev'n elmost run.
Corruption my Father I do call,
Mother and Sisters both, the worms that crawle
In my dark house, such kindred I have store,
Where I shall rest till heavens shall be no more,
And when this flesh shall rot and be consum'd,
This body by this Soul shall be assum'd:
And I shall see with these same very eyes,
My strong Redeemer coming in the Skies.
Triumph I shall o're sin, o're death, o're Hell,
And in that hope I bid you all farewel.
Source: [Anne Bradstreet], The Tenth Muse Lately sprung up in America. By a Gentlewoman in those parts (London: Stephen Bowtell, 1650): p.
180-190.
In Reference to her Children, 23 June 1659
I had eight birds hatcht in one nest,
Four Cocks were there, and Hens the rest.
I nurst them up with pain and care,
No cost nor labour did I spare
Till at the last they felt their wing,
Mounted the Trees and learned to sing.
Chief of the Brood then took his flight
To Regions far and left me quite.
My mournful chirps I after send
Till he return, or I do end.
Leave not thy nest, thy Dame and Sire,
Fly back and sing amidst this Quire.
My second bird did take her flight
And with her mate flew out of sight.
Southward they both their course did bend,
And Seasons twain they there did spend,
Till after blown by Southern gales
They Norward steer'd with filled sails.
A prettier bird was no where seen,
Along the Beach, among the treen.
I have a third of colour white
On whom I plac'd no small delight,
Coupled with mate loving and true,
Hath also bid her Dame adieu.
And where Aurora first appears,
She now hath percht to spend her years.
One to the Academy flew
To chat among that learned crew.
Ambition moves still in his breast
That he might chant above the rest,
Striving for more than to do well,
That nightingales he might excell.
My fifth, whose down is yet scarce gone,
Is 'mongst the shrubs and bushes flown
And as his wings increase in strength
On higher boughs he'll perch at length.
My other three still with me nest
Until they're grown, then as the rest,
Or here or there, they'll take their flight,
As is ordain'd, so shall they light.
If birds could weep, then would my tears
Let others know what are my fears
Lest this my brood some harm should catch
And be surpris'd for want of watch
Whilst pecking corn and void of care
They fall un'wares in Fowler's snare;
Or whilst on trees they sit and sing
Some untoward boy at them do fling,
Or whilst allur'd with bell and glass
The net be spread and caught, alas;
Or lest by Lime-twigs they be foil'd;
Or by some greedy hawks be spoil'd.
O would, my young, ye saw my breast
And knew what thoughts there sadly rest.
Great was my pain when I you bred,
Great was my care when I you fed.
Long did I keep you soft and warm
And with my wings kept off all harm.
My cares are more, and fears, than ever,
My throbs such now as 'fore were never.
Alas, my birds, you wisdom want
Of perils you are ignorant.
Oft times in grass, on trees, in flight,
Sore accidents on you may light.
O to your safety have an eye,
So happy may you live and die.
Mean while, my days in tunes I'll spend
Till my weak lays with me shall end.
In shady woods I'll sit and sing
And things that past, to mind I'll bring.
Once young and pleasant, as are you,
But former toys (no joys) adieu!
My age I will not once lament
But sing, my time so near is spent,
And from the top bough take my flight
Into a country beyond sight
Where old ones instantly grow young
And there with seraphims set song.
No seasons cold, nor storms they see
But spring lasts to eternity.
When each of you shall in your nest
Among your young ones take your rest,
In chirping languages oft them tell
You had a Dame that lov'd you well,
That did what could be done for young
And nurst you up till you were strong
And 'fore she once would let you fly
She shew'd you joy and misery,
Taught what was good, and what was ill,
That would save life, and what would kill.
Thus gone, amongst you I may live,
And dead, yet speak and counsel give.
Farewell, my birds, farewell, adieu,
I happy am, if well with you.
To My Dear and Loving Husband
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee, give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persevere
That when we live no more, we may live ever.
My head, my heart, mine eyes, my life, nay, more,
My joy, my magazine of earthly store,
If two be one, as surely thou and I,
How stayest thou there, wilst I at Ipswich lie?
So many steps, head from the heart to sever,
If but a neck, soon should we be together,
I, like the Earth this season, mourn in black,
My sun is gone so far in's zodiac,
Whom whilst I 'joyed, nor storms, nor frost I felt,
His warmth such frigid colds did cause to melt.
My chilled limbs now numbed lie forlorn;
Return, return, sweet Sol, from Capricorn,
In this dead timem, alas, what can I more
Than view those fruits which through thy heat I bore?
Which sweet contentment yield me for a space,
True living pictures of their father's face..
O strange effect! now thou art southward gone,
I weary grow the tedious day so long;
But when thou northward to me shalt return,
I wish my Sun may never set, but burn
Within the Cancer of my glowing breast,
The welcome house of him my dearest guest.
Where ever, ever stay, and go not thence,
Till nature's sad decree shall call thee hence;
Flesh of thy flesh, bone of thy bone,
I here, thou there, but both but one.
Verses upon the Burning of our House, July 18th, 1666
Here follows some verses upon the burning
of our house, July. 18th. 1666. Copyed out of
a loose Paper.
In silent night when rest I took,
For sorrow near I did not look,
I waken'd was with thund'ring noise
And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice.
That fearful sound of "fire" and "fire,"
Let no man know is my Desire.
I starting up, the light did spy,
And to my God my heart did cry
To straighten me in my Distress
And not to leave me succourless.
Then coming out, behold a space
The flame consume my dwelling place.
And when I could no longer look,
I blest his grace that gave and took,
That laid my goods now in the dust.
Yea, so it was, and so 'twas just.
It was his own; it was not mine.
Far be it that I should repine,
He might of all justly bereft
But yet sufficient for us left.
When by the Ruins oft I past
My sorrowing eyes aside did cast
And here and there the places spy
Where oft I sate and long did lie.
Here stood that Trunk, and there that chest,
There lay that store I counted best,
My pleasant things in ashes lie
And them behold no more shall I.
Under the roof no guest shall sit,
Nor at thy Table eat a bit.
No pleasant talk shall 'ere be told
Nor things recounted done of old.
No Candle 'ere shall shine in Thee,
Nor bridegroom's voice ere heard shall bee.
In silence ever shalt thou lie.
Adieu, Adieu, All's Vanity.
Then straight I 'gin my heart to chide:
And did thy wealth on earth abide,
Didst fix thy hope on mouldring dust,
The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?
Raise up thy thoughts above the sky
That dunghill mists away may fly.
Thou hast a house on high erect
Fram'd by that mighty Architect,
With glory richly furnished
Stands permanent, though this be fled.
It's purchased and paid for too
By him who hath enough to do.
A price so vast as is unknown,
Yet by his gift is made thine own.
There's wealth enough; I need no more.
Farewell, my pelf; farewell, my store.
The world no longer let me love;
My hope and Treasure lies above.
Her Mother's Epitaph
Here lies
A worthy matron of unspotted life,
A loving mother and obedient wife,
A friendly neighbor, pitiful to poor,
Whom oft she fed, and clothed with her store;
To servants wisely aweful, but yet kind,
And as they did, so they reward did find:
A true instructor of her family,
The which she ordered with dexterity,
The public meetings ever did frequent,
And in her closest constant hours she spent;
Religious in all her words and ways,
Preparing still for death, till end of days:
Of all her children, children lived to see,
Then dying, left a blessed memory.
DOCUMENT 10
The following broadside ballad, (ca. 1650) detailed the sad fate of a young woman kidnapped and
transported against her will to Virginia. Some other accounts have implied that English girls were not
employed in filed work. What kind of labor and living conditions do the lyrics of this ballad suggest was
the fate of indentured servant girls bound for Virginia?
The Trappan'd Maiden, or The Distressed Damsel
This Girl was cunningly trappan'd,
Sent to Virginny from England;
Where she doth Hardship under go,
There is no Care, it must be so;
but if she lives to cros, the Main,
She vows she'll ne'r go there again.
Give ear unto a Maid,
That lately was betray'd,
And sent into Virginny O:
In brief I shall declare,
Whate I have suffered there,
When that I was weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.
When that first I came
To this Land of Fame,
Which is called Virginny, O;
The are and the hoe
have wrought my Overthrow,
When that, &c. [I was weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.]
Five years served I,
Under Master Guy,
In the Land of Virginny, O:
Which made me for to know,
Sorrow, Grief and Woe;
When that, &c. [I was weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.]
When my Dame says, Go,
Then I must do so,
In the Land of Virginny, O.
When she sits at Meat,
Then I have none to eat,
When that, &c. [I was weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.]
The Cloaths that I brought in,
They are worn very thin,
In the Land of Virginny, O;
Which makes me for to say,
alas, and Weh-a-day,
When that, &c. [I was weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.]
Instead of Beds of Ease,
To lye down when I please,
In the Land of Virginny, O,
Upon a Bed of Straw,
I lay down full of Woe,
When that I was weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.
Then the Spider she
Daily waits on me,
In the Land of Virginny, O;
Round about my Bed,
She spins her tender web,
When that I am weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.
So soon as it is day,
To work I must away,
In the land of Virginny, O;
Then my Dame she knocks,
With her Tinder-box,
When that, &c. [I was weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.]
I have play'd my part,
Both at Plow and Cart,
In the Land of Virginny, O:
Billets from the Wood,
Upon my back they load,
When that, &c. [I was weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.]
Instead of drinking Beer,
I drink the Water clear,
In the Land of Virginny, O;
Which makes me pale and wan
Do all that e'r I can,
When that, &c. [I was weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.]
If my Dame says, Go,
I dare not say no,
In the Land of Virginny, O:
The Water from the Spring,
Upon my head I bring,
When that, &c. [I was weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.]
When the Mill doth stand,
I'm ready at command,
In the Land of Virginny, O:
The Morter for to make,
Which made my heart to ake,
When that, &c. [I was weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.]
When the Child doth cry,
I must sing, By a by;
In the Land of Virginny, O:
No rest that I can have,
Whilst I am here a Slave,
When that, &c. [I was weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.]
A thousand Woes beside,
That I do here abide,
In the Land of Virginny, O:
In misery I spend
My time that hath no end,
When that, &c[I was weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.]
Then let Maids beware,
All by my ill-fare,
In the Land of Virginny, O;
Be sure thou stay at home,
For if you do here come,
You all will be weary, &c.
[weary, weary, weary, O.]
But if it be my chance,
homewards to advance,
From the Land of Virginny, O;
If that I once more,
Land on English Shore,
I'll no more be weary,
weary, weary, weary, O.
printed by and for W.O. and for A.M. and sold by C. Rates, in Fye-corner.
Source: English Broadside Ballad Archive, University of California at Santa Barbara, Department of English:
http://emc.english.ucsb.edu/ballad_project/large_detail.asp?id=21947: Pepys Ballads, 4:286.
DOCUMENT 11
What can we learn from the following legal record from Suffolk County, Massachusetts in 1654 about
the importance of dowries and the legal rights of women witin the bonds of marriage?
To all Xpian [Christian] People, to whome these present's shall come Robert Bellow of Boston New
England Tobacco winder sendeth greeting Know Yee that I the saide Robert Bellow for & in
consideracon of the Sume of thirty pound's sterling to mee in hand paide by Hope Allen of Boston
aforesaide Curryer; wherewith I doe acknowledge my selfe fully satisfied contented & paide & thereof &
of every part & parcell thereof doe exonerate acquit & discharge the saide Hope Allen his heires Executors
& assignes & every of them for ever by these present's' Have given granted bargained Sold Enfeoffed &
confirmed & by these present's doe give grant bargain Sell Enfeoffe & confirme unto the saide Hope
Allen his heires & assignes forever All that Dwelling house standing on the Northeast side of the Streete
leading from the Castle Tavern Norward & the yard or backside thereunto adjoining conteining to the
Streeteward in breaJth thirty seven foote & a halfe bee it more or less & thirty six foote & halfe in length
more or less & lying betwixt the land's of Widow Ludkin on the Norwest side & land's of John Hanniford
on the Southeast Side & an orchard thereunto adjoining conteining Seventy foote in length bee it more or
less & fifty & seven & a halfe in breadth bee it more or Less [119] at the upper end & thirty & eight foote
at the lower end as it is now fenced in & lying betwixt the land's of James Everell on the Norwest side the
land's of Christopher Clarke on the Northerly side the land's of John Hanniford Easterly & thaforesaide
house & yard Southerly with all & singuler the appurtenances unto the saide premisses severally
belonging & all his right title & jnterest of & into them & every Part & Parcell thereof To have & to hold
the saide Dwelling house with the yard & backside thereunto adjoining, bounded as aforesaide together
with the Orchard likewise soe bounded as is abouesaide & adjoining unto the saide Premisses wth all and
singular thappurtenances unto the saide Premisses severally belonging unto the saide Hope Allen his
heires & assignes for ever And to the onely proper Use & behoofe of him the saide Hope Allen his heires
& assignes for ever to bee holden in fee & comon Soceage & Not in capite nor by Knight Service And the
saide Robert Bellow doth Covenant Promiss & grant by these Present's that hee the saide Robert Bellow
is the true and lawful owner Of the saide bargained Premisses at the time of the bargain & Sale thereof &
that the saide bargained Premisses are free & cleerc & freely & cleerely acquitted Exonerated &
diseharged of for & from all & all manner of former or other bargain's Sales gift's grant's titles Mortgages
Suites arrest's Attachmant's Dowres judgment's Executions Extent's Incumbrances & Engagement's
whatsoever from the begining of the world untill the day of the Date hereof And shall & will deliver or
eause to bee delivered all Deed's writing's Evidences & Escript's concerning the Premisses or true Coppies
of them amongst other thing's unto the saide Hope Allen his heires & assignes faire uncancelled &
undefaced And the saide Robert Bellow doth alsoe by these Present's Covenant Promiss & grant to
warrant acquit & defend the saide bargained Premisses & the ire appurtenances unto the saide Hope Allen
his heires & assignes against all Person's from by or under him claiming any right title Dower or jnterest
Of & into the same or any Part thereof for ever by these present's And Susanna the now wife of
the saide Robert Bellow doth by these Present's freely & fully give & yeild up all her right title & Dowre
& jnterest of & into the saide Premisses unto the saide Hope Allen his heires & assignes forever' In
Witness whereof the saide Robert Bellow & Susanna his wife haue hereunto Set theire hand's & Seales
the twentieth day of May in the Yeare of or. Lord one thousand six hundred fifty & four
Endorsed
Signed sealed & Delivered in the
Presence of us
his marke
Robert RB
Bellow
James Oliver
& a Seale appendant
Richard R Gridly
John Stevenson
Nathaniell Souther not[ary]: Pubcus
1654
her marke
Susanna /// Bellow
& a Seale appendant
This Deed acknowledged by Robert Bellow & Susanna his
wife who alsoe being examined doth freely consent to give up
her right of Dowry this 20th of the 4th m°. 1654.
[Before me Richard Bellingham Govr
Recorded & Compared April 7th. 1673]
Source: Suffolk Deeds. Liber VIII. (Boston: Rockwell and Churchill, City Printers, 1896.
DOCUMENT 12
Although the laws in Puritan New England often proscribed draconian punishments for certain crimes-(including death for moral infractions like adultery!)--while the magistrates rarely "spared the rod" (or
whip), for fear of encouraging sin, oftentimes the acutal punishments inflicted on wrong-doers tended to
expose them to public shame as a warning to the community. How were the defendants in this 1656
Plymouth court case punished, and were they alone judged guilty of the crime?
February 3, 1656 (CA, PCR 3:110-11):
Att this Court, the cunstable of Tauton brought a certaine Scote, a single man, and an Irish woman named
Katheren Aimes, whome hee had apprehended vpon suspision of commiting adultery each with other; but
the Court, haueing examined them, could not proceed to punish them for want of clearer euidence; but
haueing intelligence that sundry in Tauton could giue euidence in the case, whoe were not present, the
Court commited the said man and woman to the custidy of the marshals vntill the next Court, and
summoned in the wittnesses to appeer att the said Court, namely, Alexander Aines, John Muckclay,
Daniell Muckeney, Scotsmen, and a certaine Irish woman named Elizabeth; her other name non present
doe know.
March 5, 1656 (GC, PCR 3:111):
Att this Court, William Paule, Scotchman, for his vnclean and filthy behauiour with the wife of Alexander
Aines, is centanced by the Court to bee forthwith Publickly whipt, and to paye the officers the charges of
his imprisonment and punishment, which accordingly was performed.
March 5, 1656 (GC, PCR 3:111-12):
Att this Cour, Katheren Aines, for her vnclean and laciuiouse behauior with the abouesaid William Paule,
and for the blasphemos words that shee hath spoken, is centanced by the Court to bee forthwith publickly
whipt heer att Plymouth, and afterwards att Taunton, on a publicke training day, and to were a Roman B
cutt out of ridd cloth and sowed to her vper garment on her right arme; and if shee shalbee euer found
without it soe worne whil shee is in the gouernment, to bee forthwith publickly whipt.
March 5, 1656 (GC, PCR 3:112):
Alexander Anis, for his leaueing his family, and exposing his wife to such temtations, and being as baud
to her therin, is centanced by the Court for the present to sitt in the stockes the time the said Paule and
Katheren Ainis are whipt, which was performed; and the said Alexander Anis is to pay the charges of his
wifes imprisonment and punishment, which said charge, in regard the said Anis is very poor, is to pay it
by twelue pence per weeke vntill it is all payed; and James Walker, of Taunton, is appointed to recieue it
in the countreyes behalfe.
Source: The Plymouth Colony Archive Project
DOCUMENT 13
In 1659, Mary Dyer defied a Massachusetts Bay colony statute warning Quaker evangelists not to enter
the colony on pain of death. As a result, Dyer found herself confined to close prison awaiting execution.
How did Mary Dyer's gender factor in the unsuccessful efforts of her husband in Rhode Island to secure
her release and the commutation of the death penalty the following year?
[William Dyer's Letter of 30 August 1659 to Boston Magistrates for release of Mary Dyer from
prison]
Gentlemen:
Having received some letters from my wife, I am given to understand of her commitment to close prison
to a place (according to description) not unlike Bishop Bonner's rooms ... It is a sad condition, in
executing such cruelties towards their fellow creatures and sufferers ... Had you no commiseration of a
tender soul that being wett to the skin, you cause her to thrust into a room whereon was nothing to sitt or
lye down upon but dust .. had your dogg been wett you would have offered it the liberty of a chimney
corner to dry itself, or had your hoggs been pend in a sty, you would have offered them some dry straw,
or else you would have wanted mercy to your beast, but alas Christians now with you are used worse
[than] hoggs or doggs ... oh merciless cruelties.
You have done more in persecution in one year than the worst bishops did in seven, and now to add more
towards a tender woman ... that gave you no just cause against her for did she come to your meeting to
disturb them as you call itt, or did she come to reprehend the magistrates? [She] only came to visit her
friends in prison and when dispatching that her intent of returning to her family as she declared in her
[statement] the next day to the Governor, therefore it is you that disturbed her, else why was she not let
alone. [What] house entered she to molest or what did she, that like a malefactor she must be hauled to
[prison] or what law did she transgress? She was about a business justifiable before God and all good
men.
The worst of men, the bishops themselves, denied not the visitation and release of friends to their
prisoners, which myself hath often experienced by visiting Mr. Prine, Mr. Smart and other eminent [men]
yea when he was commanded close in the towne, I had resort once or twice a week and [I was] never
fetched before authority to ask me wherefore I came to the towne, or Kings bench, or Gatehouse ... had
there not been more adventurours tender hearted professors than yorselves many of them you call godly
ministers and others might have perished ... if that course you take had been in use with them, as to send
for a person and ask them wherfore they came thither. What hath not people in America the same liberty
as beasts and birds to pass the land or air without examination?
Have you a law that says the light in M. Dyre is not M. Dyre's rule, if you have for that or any the
fornamed a law, she may be made a transfressor, for words and your mittimus hold good, but if not, then
have you imprisoned her and punisht her without law and against the Law of god and man ... behold my
wife without law and against Law is imprison' and punished and so higly condemned for saying the light
is the Rule! It is not your light within your rule by which you make and act such lawes for ye have no rule
of Gods word in the Bible to make a law titled Quakers nor have you any order from the Supreme State of
England to make such lawes. Therefore, it must be your light within you is your rule and you walk by ...
Remember what Jesus Christ said, 'if the light that be in you is darkness, how great is that darkness.'
[illegible] ... conscience, the first and next words after appearance is 'You are a Quaker' see the steppes
you follow and let their misry be your warning; and then if answer be not made according to the ruling
will; away with them to the Cobhole or new Prison, or House of Correction ... And now Gentlemen
consider their ends, and believe it, itt was certaine the Bishops ruine suddenly followed after their hott
persuanes of some godly people by them called Puritans ... especially when they proceeded to suck the
blood of Mr. Prine, Mr. Burton and Dr. Bostwicks eares, only them three and butt three, and they were as
odious to them as the Quakers are to you.
What witness or legal testimony was taken that my wife Mary Dyre was a Quaker, if not before God and
man how can you clear yourselves and seat of justice, from cruelty persecution ye as so fair as in you lies
murder as to her and to myself and family oppression and tiranny. The God of trust knows all this. The
God of truth knows all this. This is the sum and totals of a law title Quakers: that she is guilty of a breach
of a tittled Quakers is as strange, that she is lawfully convicted of 2 witnesses is not hear of, that she must
be banished by law tittled Quakers being not convicted by law but considered by surmise and condemned
to close prison by Mr. Bellingham's suggestion is so absurd and ridiculous, the meanest pupil in law will
hiss at such proceeds in Old Lawyers ... is your law tittled Quakers Felony or Treason, that vehement
suspicion render them capable of suffering ... If you be men I suppose your fundamental lawes is that noe
person shall be imprisoned or molested but upon the breach of a law, yett behold my wife without law and
against law is imprisoned and punished.
My wife writes me word and information, ye she had been above a fortnight and had not trode on the
ground, but saw it out your window; what inhumanity is this, had you never wives of your own, or ever
any tender affection to a woman, deal so with a woman, what has nature forgotten if refreshment be
debarred?
I have written thus plainly to you, being exceedingly sensible of the unjust molestations and detaining of
my deare yokefellow, mine and my familyes want of her will crye loud in yor eares together with her
sufferings of your part but I questions not mercy favor and comfort from the most high of her owne soule,
that at present my self and family bea by you deprived of the comfort and refreshment we might have
enjoyed by her [presence].
her husband
W. Dyre
Newport this 30 August 1659
[Mary Dyer's First Letter Written from Prison, 1659]
Whereas I am by many charged with the Guiltiness of my own Blood: if you mean in my Coming to
Boston, I am therein clear, and justified by the Lord, in whose Will I came, who will require my Blood of
you, be sure, who have made a Law to take away the Lives of the Innocent Servants of God, if they come
among you who are called by you, 'Cursed Quakers,' altho I say, and am a Living Witness for them and
the Lord, that he hath blessed them, and sent them unto you: Therefore, be not found Fighters against
God, but let my Counsel and Request be accepted with you, To repeal all such Laws, that the Truth and
Servants of the Lord, may have free Passage among you and you be kept from shedding innocent Blood,
which I know there are many among you would not do, if they knew it so to be: Nor can the Enemy that
stirreth you up thus to destroy this holy Seed, in any Measure contervail, the great Damage that you will
by thus doing procure: Therefeore, seeing the Lord hath not hid it from me, it lyeth upon me, in Love to
your Souls, thus to persuade you: I have no Self Ends, the Lord knoweth, for if my Life were freely
granted by you, it would not avail me, nor could I expect it of you, so long as I shall daily hear and see, of
the Sufferings of these People, my dear Brethren and Seed, with whom my Life is bound up, as I have
done these two Years, and not it is like to increase, even unto Death, for no evil Doing, but Coming
among you: Was ever the like laws heard of, among a People that profess Christ come in the Flesh? And
have such no other Weapons, but such Laws, to fight with against spiritual Wickedness with all, as you
call it? Wo is me for you! Of whom take you Counsel! Search with the light of Christ in you, and it will
show you of whom, as it hath done me, and many more, who have been disobedient and deceived, as now
you are, which Light, as you come into, and obey what is made manifest to you therein, y ou will not
repent, that you were kept from shedding Blood, tho be a Woman: It's not my own Life I seek (for I chose
rather to suffer with the People of God, than to enjoy the Pleasures of Egypt) but the Life of the Seed,
which I know the Lord hath blessed, and therefore seeks the Enemy thus vehemently the Life thereof to
destroy, as in all ages he ever did: Oh! hearken not unto him, I beseech you, for the Seed's Sake, which is
One in all, and is dear in the Sight of God; which they that touch, Touch the Apple of his Eye, and cannot
escape his Wrath; whereof I having felt, cannot but persuade all men that I have to do withal, especially
you who name the Name of Christ, to depart from such Iniquity, as SHEDDING BLOOD, EVEN OF
THE SAINTS OF THE Most High. Therefore let my Request have as much Acceptance with you, if you
be Christians as Esther had with Ahasuerus* whose relation is short of that that's between Christians and
my Request is the same that her's was: and he said not, that he had made a Law, and it would be
dishonourable for him to revoke it: but when he understood that these People were so prized by her, and
so nearly concerned her (as in Truth these are to me) as you may see what he did for her: Therefore I
leave these Lines with you, appealing to the faithful and true Witness of God, which is One in all
Consciences, before whom we must all appear; with whom I shall eternally rest, in Everlasting Joy and
Peace, whether you will hear or forebear: With him is my Reward, with whom to live is my Joy, and to
die is my Gain, tho' I had not had your forty-eight Hours Warning, for the Preparation of the Death of
Mary Dyar.
And know this also, that if through the Enmity you shall declare yourselves worse than Ahasueras, and
confirm your Law, tho' it were but the taking away the Life of one of us, That the Lord will overthrow
both your Law and you, by his righteous Judgments and Plagues poured justly upon you who now whilst
you are warned thereof, and tenderly sought unto, may avoid the one, by removing the other; If you
neither hear nor obey the Lord nor his Servants, yet will he send more of his Servants among you, so that
your End shall be frustrated, that think to restrain them, you call 'Cursed Quakers' from coming among
you, by any Thing you can do to them; yea, verily, he hath a Seed here among you, for whom we have
suffered all this while, and yet suffer: whom the Lord of the Harvest will send forth more Labourers to
gather (out of the Mouths of the Devourers of all sorts) into his Fold, where he will lead them into fresh
Pastures, even the Paths of Righteousness, for his Name's Sake: Oh! let non of you put this Day far from
you, which verily in the light of the Lord I see approaching, even to many in and about Boston, which is
the bitterest and darkest professing Place, and so to continue as long as you have done, that ever I heard
of; let the time past therefore suffice, for such a Profession as bring forth such Fruits as these Laws are, In
Love and in the Spirit of Meekness, I again beseech you, for I have no Enmity to the Persons of any; but
you shall know, that God will not be mocked, but what you sow, that shall you reap from him, that will
render to everyone according to the Deeds done in the Body, whether Good or Evil, Even so be it, saith
Mary Dyar
*Mary here referred to the Old Testament, comparing Gov. Endicott to King Ahasuerus and herself as
Esther. Esther seduced the King to release the Jews and Mary wanted Endicott to change the laws and
free the Quakers.
[Mary Dyer's Second Letter Written from Prison, 1659 After the Hanging of Marmaduke &
Stephenson]
Once more the General Court, Assembled in Boston, speaks Mary Dyar, even as before: My life is not
accepted, neither availeth me, in Comparison of the Lives and Liberty of the Truth and Servants of the
Living God, for which in the Bowels of Love and Meekness I sought you; yet nevertheless, with wicked
Hands have you put two of them to Death, which makes me to feel, that the Mercies of the Wicked is
Cruelty. I rather chuse to die than to live, as from you, as Guilty of their innocent Blood. Therefore,
seeing my Request is hindered, I leave you to the Righteous Judge and Searcher of all Hearts, who, with
the pure measure of Light he hath given to every Man to profit withal, will in his due time let you see
whose Servants you are, and of whom you have taken Counsel, which desire you to search into: But all
his counsel hath been slighted, and, you would none of his reproofs. Read your Portion, Prov. 1:24 to 32.
'For verily the Night cometh on you apace, wherein no Man can Work, in which you shall assuredly fall
to your own Master, in Obedience to the Lord, whom I serve with my Spirit, and to pity to your Souls,
which you neither know nor pity: I can do no less than once more to warn you, to put away the Evil of
your Doings, and Kiss the Son, the Light in you before his wrath be kindled in you; for where it is,
nothing without you can help or deliver you out of his hand at all; and if these things be not so, then say,
There hath been no prophet from the Lord sent amongst you: yet it is his Pleasure, by Things that are not,
to bring to naught Things that are.'
When I heard your last Order read, it was a disturbance unto me, that was so freely Offering up my life to
him that give it me, and sent me hither to do, which Obedience being his own Work, he gloriously
accompanied with his Presence, and Peace, and Love in me, in which I rested from my labour, till by your
Order, and the People, I was so far disturbed, that I could not retain anymore of the words thereof, than
that I should return to Prison, and there remain Forty and Eight hours; to which I submitted, finding
nothing from the Lord to the contrary, that I may know what his Pleasure and Counsel is concerning me,
on whom I wait therefore, for he is my Life, and the length of my Days, and as I said before, I came at his
command, and go at His command.
Mary Dyar
[William Dyer's Letter of 27 May 1660 petitioning Boston Magistrates to spare Mary Dyer's life]
Honor Sr,
It is not little greif of mind, and sadness of hart that I am necessitated to be so bold as to supplicate your
Honor self w the Honorable Assembly of yor Generall Courte to extend yor mer[c]y and favor once agen
to me and my children, little did I dream that I shuld have had occasion to petition you in a matter of this
nature, but so it is that throw the devine prouidence and yor benignity my sonn obtayned so much pitty
and mercy att yor hands as to enjoy the life of his mother, now my supplication yor Honor is to begg
affectioinately, the life of my deare wife, tis true I have not seen her aboue this half yeare and therefor
cannot tell how in the frame of her spiritt she was moved thus againe to runn so great a Hazard to herself,
and perplexity to me and mine and all her friends and well wishers; so itt is from Shelter Island about by
Pequid Narragansett and to the Towne of Prouidence she secrettly and speedyly journyed, and as secretly
from thence came to yor jurisdiction, unhappy journy may I say, and woe to theat generatcon say I that
gives occasion thus of grief and troble (to those that desire to be quiett) by helping one another (as I may
say) to Hazard their lives for I know not watt end or to what purpose; If her zeale be so greatt as thus to
adventure, oh lett your favoure and pitty surmount itt and save her life. Let not yor forwanted Compassion
bee conquared by her inconsiderate maddnesse, and how greatly will yor renowne be spread if by so
conquering yor become victorious, what shall I say more, I know yor are all sensible of my condition, and
lett the reflect bee, and you will see whatt my peticon is and what will give me and mine peace, oh Lett
mercies wings once more sore above justice ballance, and then whilst I live shall I exalt yor goodness butt
other wayes twill be a languishing sorrow, yea so great that I shuld gladly suffer thie blow att once much
rather: I shall forebear to troble yor Hnr with words neythe am I in capacity to expatiate myself at present;
I only say that yorselves have been and are or may bee husbands to wife or wiues, so am I: yea to once
most dearely beloved: oh do not you deprive me of her, but I pray give her me once agena nd I shall bee
so much obleiged for ever, that I shall endeavor continually to utter my thanks and render you Love and
Honor most renowned: pitty me, I begg itt with teares, and rest you.
Most humbly suppliant
W. Dyre
Portsmouth 27 of [May] 1660
Most honored sires, let thse lines by yor fauor bee my Peticon to your Honorable General Court at present
sitting.
W.D.
http://www.rootsweb.com/~nwa/mdnotes.html#mary.
DOCUMENT 14
As seen in this Maryland indenture contract dated January 1661, destitute widows without sufficient
means of support might be obliged by economic circumstances to bind over her children as indentured
servants and apprentices. What rights and obligations did such children face as servants?
Ane Ges the Relict of Walter Ges deceased doath hear in open Court bind ouer unto Mr
Thomas Baker his heirs Executors Administrators but not Assignes Mary Ges her daughter in Law to
sarue the sayd Baker as aforsayd from the day of the date hearof untill the 28th day of Januarie Ao 1667
in all such Saruices and imployments as hee the sayd Baker his heirs Executors Administrators shall
imploy her in and the sayd Marie beeing demanded in open Court wheather shee was thear unto
Condesending who verie freely replyed that shee was thearwith very well Contented
Whearupon it was ordered that the sayd Mary Ges shoold sarue the sayd Baker his heirs
Executor Administrators but not assignes the full and just tearme of six years from the day of the date
hearof in all such saruices and imployments as hee or thay shall imploy her in hee and thay during the
tearme of the sayd time finding and allowing her sufficient meat drincke and good Lodging fitting for a
saruant in that kind
Ane the Relict of Walter Ges doath hearby in open Court binds ouer unto Mr Henry Addames
his heirs Executors Administrators but not Assignes one Lewis Ges her sone beeing about three years old
from the day of the date hearof the full and iust tearm of eighteen years to sarue him or them in all such
saruices and imployments as bee or thay shall imploy him in during the sayd tearme of time
And for the Confirmation of the sayd Assigment it is ordered that the sayd Lewis ges shall
sarue the sayd Mr Addames his heirs Executors Administrators hut not Assignes from the day of the date
hearof the full and iust tearme of time of eighteen years in all such saruices and imployments that hee or
thay shal imploy him in hee and thay during the sayd terme finding and allowing the sayd Lewis Ges
sufficient meat drinke washing and Lodging fitting for a saruant:
Source: Archives of Maryland, Proceedings of the County Court of Charles County, 1658-1666, in Archives of Maryland Online
http://www.msa.md.gov/megafile/msa/speccol/sc2900/sc2908/000001/000053/html/am53--183.html
DOCUMENT 15
The following testimony taken from the Maryland Provincial Court Proceedings, 1663-1664 indicates
that some masters were accused of exceeding normal disciplinary action against their servants, in this
instance, Pope Alvey indicted by a grand jury for having caused the death of his female servant, Alice
Sanford). Although the record does not indicate whether Alvey was found guilty, his abusive behavior did
not end here, since in 1665, another planter, Paul Marsh required a security from Alvey before hiring out
one of his servants to him because "the said Pope hath allready been in question for the life of one
servant, and since the hyring your petitioner's servant another dyed being his hyred servants, & as I am
credibly informed laid his death to the said Pope."
Pope Aluey dds writt agst James Veitch in an accon of Case in March 7th behalfe of his Wife Anne
Admistrix ix of the Estate of hem husband John Hammond Deceased. Warrt to sheriffe Caluert County to
arrest &c: Ret next Prouinciall Court, 50 Aprill next. (p. 165) //
To the Rt honble Charles Caluert Esp Leiutt Grãll of the Prouince of Maryland, & the honble Councell.
Vide fo: 261 The humble Petn of Pope Aluey, Humbly Sheweth That whereas James Veitch stood
indebted to yor Pet” as Admistr of John Hammond Deceased for 2000£ of Tob. & Cask for a woman
Serut & Likewise some other Debt due to the Estate wthout the sd James Veitch proues this Debts payd,
yor Petr humbly Craues an Order for his Debt, & yor Petr shall euer pray &c:
The Coroners Inquest.
Willm Assiter
James Pattison
Richard Bennett
Robert Ratcliffe
Willm Marloe
Willm Wood
James Martin
John Hunt
Peter Mills
Willm Watts
Richard Shippey
Jenkin Morgan
Wee whose names are here aboue written being summoned uppon Our Oath by the sheriffe of St Maries
County, to make Enquiry of the Death of Alice Sandford Semuant to Pope Aluey of the Prouince of
Maryland, The wch semuant being brought by her sd Master to Mr Willm Rosewells howse uppon the
29th of ffebruamy 1663 dyed wthin half e an hower after shee was brought into the howse. Hauing
ueiwed the Body of the aforesd semuant wee fownd noe mortall wownd, But the Body being beaten to a
Jelly, The Intrayles being cleare from any inward disease, to the best of or Judgmts & the Doctors tht was
us, But if it were possible that any Christian could bee beaten to death stripes, wee thinke the aforesd
Seruant was. And this is our Joynt Verdict
Wm Euans Sheriffe
John Besseck aged 22 yeares or thereabouts sworne, & Examined the 2d of March 1663 Sayth That uppon
the 29th of ffeb. last past about two howres in the night this depont heard one hollow in the woods, & this
Depont went to him & when this Depont came to the place where they were, It was Pope Aluey & a
maide Seruant of his, sitting uppon a Tree. This Depont asked the sd semuant, if shee would goe in wth
him? Shee replyed I understand tht here is a Christian man come: Take notice that my Master hath killed
mee. These words shee spoke before her Master. This Damned whoare sayd Pope, I cannott gett her along
noe further then I bast her. The maide asked for water. This depont would haue gyuen her some, but hee
could find none. Then Pope cutt a Stick, And this Depont & Pope leade the sd seruant Ten paces & shee
could goe noe further. And Pope swoare hee would make her goe further, & wth that hee tooke up the
skirt of her wascoate & beate her uppon her naked back. And when hee broaken Three sticks uppon her;
The maide to saue the blowes of putt up her hand, & the sd Pope sett her hand under his foote & beate her
againe. And when hee had done hee bid her rise & goe: & shee sayd shee could not goe any further, if
shee dyed for it, And shee asked for some water, & this Depont fetched her some. And Pope asked her to
goe: & shee bid (p. 166) // him goe away, & shee would goe wth this Depont, & Pope stepped behind a
Tree. And this Depont asked her, if shee would goe him? And shee replyed that shee was not able to goe.
Then this Depont called Pope: & Pope asked her againe If shee would goe? shee answered that shee could
not goe. Then Pope swoare bee would make her goe, & hee beate her againe, & then shee sayd shee
would goe, & lifted up her hand: & Wee helped her up. Then this depont tooke her uppon his back, &
carryed her ‘till hee was weary, & sett her downe: & Pope asked her if shee would drink? & shee sayd
yes, & hee fetched water in his hatt & gaue hem. And this Depont tooke her up & carryed her wthin sight
of W Rosewells Plantaon, & sett her downe. And when wee had rested a while, Pope asked her if shee
would goe? & shee asked how far it was to the Plantaon? & Pope answered hard by; & hee asked her to
goe, & shee asked for water: & Pope fetched her some; & wee helped her up, & shee went two or three
paces, & could goe noe further, & satt downe. And Pope tooke her by the hands & hailed her to a Tree.
And this Depont prayed Pope to iett her alone, & bee would fetch more helpe to carry her into the howse.
And Pope & this Depont went to the howse, & this Depont & another Seruant of Mr Roswells named
Charles Alexander went forth, & fetched her in uppon a Ladder: & Pope held her from falling, untill wee
had brought her into the yard: Then Pope lett her goe & shee fell of the Ladder. And Pope Lifted her in, &
Layd her in the Chimney Corner, & gaue her homeney: & shee Lay downe & Cryed out, & Pope tooke
her by the nose & stopped her breath, And a little while after shee called for water, for the Lords sake, &
immediately dyed. And Pope lifted up her head, & sayd I thinke really that shee is dead. & further sayth
not
The marke of
Sworne before mee
John + Bessick.
Wm Euans.
Charles Alexander aged 22 yeares or thereabouts Sworne & examined the 2d of March 166¾ Sayth. That
the 29th of ffebruary last past, Pope Aluey & John Bessick came in & left the mayde out in the woods
about halfe a mile of the howse. Whereuppon this Depont went wth them to fetch her to the howse, &
Wee brought her uppon a Ladder. And as wee came in the yard, shee fell of uppon the grownd, & Pope
Aluey tooke her under the armes, & hailed her into the Chimney Corner, & shee cryed out three times: &
Pope struck her Three blowes uppon her head wth his hand, & shee cryed out & hee tooke her by the nose
& Chocked her, & then hee tooke a Poringer & tooke up a Poringer of Homenay broath, & hee held her
up & opened hem mouth a payre of Tobacco Tonges, & powred itt in & layd her downe againe, and
prsently hee lifted her her head, & shee was dead. And further sayth not.
Sworne before mee
Charles Alexander
Wm Euans. (p. 167) //
Cæcilius &c: To the High Sheriffe of St Maries County Greeting Whereas uppon a Jury of Enquest made
the 2d of March 1663 & now gyuen into our office, It may bee probably gathered & suspected that Pope
Aluey was cause of the Death of Alice Sandfast his seruant These are therefore to will & requyme yow to
take the Body of the sd Pope Aluey, & him keepe in safe Custody wthout Bayle or Mayn prize, And haue
him att Our next Prouinciall Court to bee holden att St Maries 50 Aprill next, & this Our Writt. Wittnes
Our Deare sonne & heyre &c: Gyuen att St Maries 70 March 1663. Charles Caluert (p. 168)
Source: See also: Alexa Silver Cawley, "A Passionate Affair: The Master-Servant Relationship in Seventeenth-Century Maryland" The Historian
(1999). http://www.msa.md.gov/megafile/msa/speccol/sc2900/sc2908/000001/000049/html/am49--166.html
DOCUMENT 16
What might we conclude about colonial Chesapeake attitudes towards bastardy from the following record
of fines and punishments listed in the Somerset County, Maryland Judicial Records, 1671-1675? Were
women and male fornicators treated differently? How do their punishments compare with those of
Puritan New England, for example?
An Accompt of ffines Amerced in Sommersett County
26th: March 1667 Susanna Brayfeilld for bearing A bastard Chilld, to Doe work upon his Lopps: high
wayes ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
28th: May 1667 Elizabeth Johnson for bearing A bastard Chilld wch: was disposed of to Thomas Ball for
provideing Conveniencies for the Commrs: at A meeting about publique bussnes and goeing over the bay
about the Lord Proprietaries service ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
28th: May 1667 Peter Callaway for getting A bastard Chilld of Elizabeth Johnson one thousand pounds of
tob: and upon some Consideracons the Cort: took 500 off 500lb: of tob: and remayned recd: by mr: Revell
10th: Augst: 1669 . . Thomas Davis Carpentr: for being Drunk 2 ps 6d . . . . . .
10th: Augst: 1669 . . James Dashiell ffor Strikeing tob: upon the sabbath Day one Dayes worke upon his
Lopps: high wayes . . . . . . .
11th: Augst: 1669 . . Tho: Poole for killing A bull upon the sabbath day one Dayes worke upon his Lopps:
high wayes . . . . . . . . .
11th: Augst: 1669 . . Anne Sallaway for bearing A bastard Chilld recd: by mr: Revell. . . 500
11th: Augst: 1669 . . John Hust for getting a bastard Chilld of Anne Sallaway recd: by mr: Revell . . 500
11th: Augst: 1669 . . Anne Carr for bearing A bastard Chilld recd: by mr: Revell . . . . 500
11trh: Augst: 1669 . . Edward Hassard for getting a bastard Chilld of Ann Carr, to work upon his Lopps:
high wayes . . . . . . . . . .
11 Augst: 1669 . . . Anne Taylior for bearing A bastard Chilld recd: by mr: Revell . . . 500
11th: Augst: 1669 . . Thomas Moolson to make A bridge over Busses Branch for getting A bastard Chilld
of Anne Taylior . . . . . . . . . .
8th: March 1669 . . Judith Best for bearing A bastard Chilld recd: by mr: Revell . . . . 500
14th: Sept: 1670 . . . Martha Popley for bearing a bastard Chilld . . . . . . . . 500
13th: June 1670 . . . Anne Carr for bearing A bastard Chilld . . . . . . . .. . 500
8th: Augst: 1671 . . Anne Cumbarbe for having A bastard Chilld . . . . . . . . 500
8th: Augst: 1671 . . Helena Johnson for having A bastard Chilld . . . . . . . 500
10th: Janry: 1671 . . Margarett Collahane for bearing A bastard Chilld; To build or Cause to be buillded A
bridge over Planners Creeke where mr: George Johnson And Capta: Colebourne Shall appointe there. ~ ~
~
2d: ffebruary 1671 . . Thomason Hart ffor bearing A bastard Chilld to provide A fferry to goe over
Wiccocomoco river (it being A necessary Passage to goe towards the hore kills) for halfe A year both for
horse and ffoote
2d: ffebruary 1671. . Katherine Parker ffor bearing A bastard Chilld; twenty five dayes worke of A
Sufficient man ffinding himselfe meate drinke & Lodging towards the makeing A bridge for horsse and
foote over Dividing Creeke being ffor A Convenient road to the greatest Seate of the Indians ~ ~
Source: Archives of Maryland Online: http://aomol.net/megafile/msa/speccol/sc2900/sc2908/000001/000087/html/am87--67.html
DOCUMENT 17
Although it was more the norm for males to be installed as chiefs, in Native American society women
could also occupy those positions. What can be learned from this 1675 account about the power and
authority of Indian rulers in colonial New England, (like the Squaw Sachem [Weetamoo, "queen of
Pocasset"], widow of Metacom (or King Philip's elder brother, Alexander)? More can be learned about
her in Mary Rowlandson's captivity narrative.
About two or three Months after, this Murther [of the Praying Indian, John Sassamon] being Discovered
to the Authority of New-Plimouth, Josiah Winslow being then Governour of that Colony, care was taken
to find out the Murtherers; who upon Search were found and apprehended, and after a fair Trial were all
Hanged. [a few Christian Indians hostile to the pagan King Philip also sat on the white jury; one of the
three was temporarilly reprieved, exhorted to confess, and later shot]. This so Exasperated King Philip,
that from that Day after, he studied to be Revenged on the English, judging that the English Authority
have Nothing to do to Hang any of his Indians for killing another. In order thereunto, his first Errand is to
a Squaw Sachem (i. e. a Woman Prince, or Queen) who is the Widow of a Brother to King Philip,
deceased, he promising her great Rewards if she would joyn with him in this Conspiracy, (for she is as
Potent a Prince as any round about her, and hath as much Corn, Land, and Men, at her Command) she
willingly consented, and was much more forward in the Design, and had greater Success than King Philip
himself. The Place where this King Philip doth dwell, is on a Parcel of Land, called in English, Mount
Hope, about twelve Miles long, and judge to be the best Land in New England: And it was about thirty
five Miles off of this Place, to the Northward, that the first English that ever came there, Landed; and by
Degrees built Houses, and called the Name of the Place New-Plimouth, (p. 25) // (because Plimouth in
Old England was the last Place they were at there.) The English took not a Foot of Land from the Indians,
but Bought all, and although they bought for an inconsiderable Value; yet they did Buy it. And it may be
judged that now King Philip repents himself, seeing what Product the English have made of a Wilderness,
through their Labour, and the Blessing of God thereon; All the Land of the Colony of New Plimouth, was
at first Bought of this King Philip's Grandfather, [sic. father] Massasoit, by Name, except some few
Parcels he hath Sold to some of the Inhabitants of Swanzy, not far from Mount Hope. Thereupon about
five Years since, took an Occasion to Quarrel with the Town, partly because he was vexed he had Sold
his Land, and partly because his Brother died five or six Years before, and he thought the English had
Poysoned him, and thereupon he troubled them, but killed none; but the Governour by timely Preparation
hindred them of doing any hurt. Thus after King Philip had secured his Interest in Squaw Sachem, (whom
he perswaded that the English had Poysoned her Husband and thereupon she was the more willing to joyn
with him)3 he privately sent Messengers to most of the Indian Sagamores and Sachems round about him,
telling them that the English had a Design to cut off all the Indians round about them, and that if they did
not Joyn together, they should lose their Lives and Lands; whereupon several Sachems became his
Confederates. (p. 26)
Source: "The Present State of New-England With Respect to the Indian War, Wherein is an Account of the true Reason thereof, (as far as can be
judged by Men), Together with most of the Remarkable Passages that have happened from the 2toth of June, till the Wth of November, 1675.
Faithfully Composed by a Merchant of Boston and Communicated to his Friend in London." [London: Printed for Dorman Newman, 1675],
cited in Narratives of the Indian Wars, 1675-1699. Edited by Charles H. Lincoln. (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1913).
DOCUMENT 18
Mary White Rowlandson was born in England either 1637 or 1638 and traveled with her parents to
Salem, Massachusetts in 1639. In 1656, she married Reverend Joseph Rowlandson, and on the ocassion
of her capture during King Philip's War in 1675 had brought three children into the world. Rowlandson
was ultimately ransomed and restored to her family, and ultimately outlived her first and second
husbands, before dying in 1710. She was encouraged to write her captivity narrative as a testimony of
God's grace, and it became extremely popular reading. What are her views of the Indians and do they
mesh with her actual treatment at their hands? What can we learn about European and Indian gender
ways from her narrative?
The Narrative of the Captivity and Restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson
The sovereignty and goodness of GOD, together with the faithfulness of his promises displayed, being a
narrative of the captivity and restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson, commended by her, to all that desires
to know the Lord's doings to, and dealings with her. Especially to her dear children and relations. The
second Addition [sic] Corrected and amended. Written by her own hand for her private use, and now
made public at the earnest desire of some friends, and for the benefit of the afflicted. Deut. 32.39. See
now that I, even I am he, and there is no god with me, I kill and I make alive, I wound and I heal, neither
is there any can deliver out of my hand.
On the tenth of February 1675, came the Indians with great numbers upon Lancaster: their first coming
was about sunrising; hearing the noise of some guns, we looked out; several houses were burning, and the
smoke ascending to heaven. There were five persons taken in one house; the father, and the mother and a
sucking child, they knocked on the head; the other two they took and carried away alive. There were two
others, who being out of their garrison upon some occasion were set upon; one was knocked on the head,
the other escaped; another there was who running along was shot and wounded, and fell down; he begged
of them his life, promising them money (as they told me) but they would not hearken to him but knocked
him in head, and stripped him naked, and split open his bowels. Another, seeing many of the Indians
about his barn, ventured and went out, but was quickly shot down. There were three others belonging to
the same garrison who were killed; the Indians getting up upon the roof of the barn, had advantage to
shoot down upon them over their fortification. Thus these murderous wretches went on, burning, and
destroying before them.
At length they came and beset our own house, and quickly it was the dolefulest day that ever mine eyes
saw. The house stood upon the edge of a hill; some of the Indians got behind the hill, others into the barn,
and others behind anything that could shelter them; from all which places they shot against the house, so
that the bullets seemed to fly like hail; and quickly they wounded one man among us, then another, and
then a third. About two hours (according to my observation, in that amazing time) they had been about the
house before they prevailed to fire it (which they did with flax and hemp, which they brought out of the
barn, and there being no defense about the house, only two flankers at two opposite corners and one of
them not finished); they fired it once and one ventured out and quenched it, but they quickly fired it again,
and that took. Now is the dreadful hour come, that I have often heard of (in time of war, as it was the
case of others), but now mine eyes see it. Some in our house were fighting for their lives, others
wallowing in their blood, the house on fire over our heads, and the bloody heathen ready to knock us on
the head, if we stirred out. Now might we hear mothers and children crying out for themselves, and one
another, "Lord, what shall we do?" Then I took my children (and one of my sisters', hers) to go forth and
leave the house: but as soon as we came to the door and appeared, the Indians shot so thick that the
bullets rattled against the house, as if one had taken an handful of stones and threw them, so that we were
fain to give back. We had six stout dogs belonging to our garrison, but none of them would stir, though
another time, if any Indian had come to the door, they were ready to fly upon him and tear him down.
The Lord hereby would make us the more acknowledge His hand, and to see that our help is always in
Him. But out we must go, the fire increasing, and coming along behind us, roaring, and the Indians
gaping before us with their guns, spears, and hatchets to devour us. No sooner were we out of the house,
but my brother-in-law (being before wounded, in defending the house, in or near the throat) fell down
dead, whereat the Indians scornfully shouted, and hallowed, and were presently upon him, stripping off
his clothes, the bullets flying thick, one went through my side, and the same (as would seem) through the
bowels and hand of my dear child in my arms. One of my elder sisters' children, named William, had
then his leg broken, which the Indians perceiving, they knocked him on [his] head. Thus were we
butchered by those merciless heathen, standing amazed, with the blood running down to our heels. My
eldest sister being yet in the house, and seeing those woeful sights, the infidels hauling mothers one way,
and children another, and some wallowing in their blood: and her elder son telling her that her son
William was dead, and myself was wounded, she said, "And Lord, let me die with them," which was no
sooner said, but she was struck with a bullet, and fell down dead over the threshold. I hope she is reaping
the fruit of her good labors, being faithful to the service of God in her place. In her younger years she lay
under much trouble upon spiritual accounts, till it pleased God to make that precious scripture take hold
of her heart, "And he said unto me, my Grace is sufficient for thee" (2 Corinthians 12.9). More than
twenty years after, I have heard her tell how sweet and comfortable that place was to her. But to return:
the Indians laid hold of us, pulling me one way, and the children another, and said, "Come go along with
us"; I told them they would kill me: they answered, if I were willing to go along with them, they would
not hurt me. Oh the doleful sight that now was to behold at this house! "Come, behold the works of the
Lord, what desolations he has made in the earth." Of thirty-seven persons who were in this one house,
none escaped either present death, or a bitter captivity, save only one, who might say as he, "And I only
am escaped alone to tell the News" (Job 1.15). There were twelve killed, some shot, some stabbed with
their spears, some knocked down with their hatchets. When we are in prosperity, Oh the little that we
think of such dreadful sights, and to see our dear friends, and relations lie bleeding out their heart-blood
upon the ground. There was one who was chopped into the head with a hatchet, and stripped naked, and
yet was crawling up and down. It is a solemn sight to see so many Christians lying in their blood, some
here, and some there, like a company of sheep torn by wolves, all of them stripped naked by a company
of hell-hounds, roaring, singing, ranting, and insulting, as if they would have torn our very hearts out; yet
the Lord by His almighty power preserved a number of us from death, for there were twenty-four of us
taken alive and carried captive.
I had often before this said that if the Indians should come, I should choose rather to be killed by them
than taken alive, but when it came to the trial my mind changed; their glittering weapons so daunted my
spirit, that I chose rather to go along with those (as I may say) ravenous beasts, than that moment to end
my days; and that I may the better declare what happened to me during that grievous captivity, I shall
particularly speak of the several removes we had up and down the wilderness.
The First Remove
Now away we must go with those barbarous creatures, with our bodies wounded and bleeding, and our
hearts no less than our bodies. About a mile we went that night, up upon a hill within sight of the town,
where they intended to lodge. There was hard by a vacant house (deserted by the English before, for fear
of the Indians). I asked them whether I might not lodge in the house that night, to which they answered,
"What, will you love English men still?" This was the dolefulest night that ever my eyes saw. Oh the
roaring, and singing and dancing, and yelling of those black creatures in the night, which made the place a
lively resemblance of hell. And as miserable was the waste that was there made of horses, cattle, sheep,
swine, calves, lambs, roasting pigs, and fowl (which they had plundered in the town), some roasting,
some lying and burning, and some boiling to feed our merciless enemies; who were joyful enough,
though we were disconsolate. To add to the dolefulness of the former day, and the dismalness of the
present night, my thoughts ran upon my losses and sad bereaved condition. All was gone, my husband
gone (at least separated from me, he being in the Bay; and to add to my grief, the Indians told me they
would kill him as he came homeward), my children gone, my relations and friends gone, our house and
home and all our comforts--within door and without--all was gone (except my life), and I knew not but
the next moment that might go too. There remained nothing to me but one poor wounded babe, and it
seemed at present worse than death that it was in such a pitiful condition, bespeaking compassion, and I
had no refreshing for it, nor suitable things to revive it. Little do many think what is the savageness and
brutishness of this barbarous enemy, Ay, even those that seem to profess more than others among them,
when the English have fallen into their hands.
Those seven that were killed at Lancaster the summer before upon a Sabbath day, and the one that was
afterward killed upon a weekday, were slain and mangled in a barbarous manner, by one-eyed John, and
Marlborough's Praying Indians, which Capt. Mosely brought to Boston, as the Indians told me.
The Second Remove
But now, the next morning, I must turn my back upon the town, and travel with them into the vast and
desolate wilderness, I knew not whither. It is not my tongue, or pen, can express the sorrows of my heart,
and bitterness of my spirit that I had at this departure: but God was with me in a wonderful manner,
carrying me along, and bearing up my spirit, that it did not quite fail. One of the Indians carried my poor
wounded babe upon a horse; it went moaning all along, "I shall die, I shall die." I went on foot after it,
with sorrow that cannot be expressed. At length I took it off the horse, and carried it in my arms till my
strength failed, and I fell down with it. Then they set me upon a horse with my wounded child in my lap,
and there being no furniture upon the horse's back, as we were going down a steep hill we both fell over
the horse's head, at which they, like inhumane creatures, laughed, and rejoiced to see it, though I thought
we should there have ended our days, as overcome with so many difficulties. But the Lord renewed my
strength still, and carried me along, that I might see more of His power; yea, so much that I could never
have thought of, had I not experienced it.
After this it quickly began to snow, and when night came on, they stopped, and now down I must sit in
the snow, by a little fire, and a few boughs behind me, with my sick child in my lap; and calling much for
water, being now (through the wound) fallen into a violent fever. My own wound also growing so stiff
that I could scarce sit down or rise up; yet so it must be, that I must sit all this cold winter night upon the
cold snowy ground, with my sick child in my arms, looking that every hour would be the last of its life;
and having no Christian friend near me, either to comfort or help me. Oh, I may see the wonderful power
of God, that my Spirit did not utterly sink under my affliction: still the Lord upheld me with His gracious
and merciful spirit, and we were both alive to see the light of the next morning.
The Third Remove
The morning being come, they prepared to go on their way. One of the Indians got up upon a horse, and
they set me up behind him, with my poor sick babe in my lap. A very wearisome and tedious day I had of
it; what with my own wound, and my child's being so exceeding sick, and in a lamentable condition with
her wound. It may be easily judged what a poor feeble condition we were in, there being not the least
crumb of refreshing that came within either of our mouths from Wednesday night to Saturday night,
except only a little cold water. This day in the afternoon, about an hour by sun, we came to the place
where they intended, viz. an Indian town, called Wenimesset, northward of Quabaug. When we were
come, Oh the number of pagans (now merciless enemies) that there came about me, that I may say as
David, "I had fainted, unless I had believed, etc" (Psalm 27.13). The next day was the Sabbath. I then
remembered how careless I had been of God's holy time; how many Sabbaths I had lost and misspent, and
how evilly I had walked in God's sight; which lay so close unto my spirit, that it was easy for me to see
how righteous it was with God to cut off the thread of my life and cast me out of His presence forever.
Yet the Lord still showed mercy to me, and upheld me; and as He wounded me with one hand, so he
healed me with the other. This day there came to me one Robert Pepper (a man belonging to Roxbury)
who was taken in Captain Beers's fight, and had been now a considerable time with the Indians; and up
with them almost as far as Albany, to see King Philip, as he told me, and was now very lately come into
these parts. Hearing, I say, that I was in this Indian town, he obtained leave to come and see me. He told
me he himself was wounded in the leg at Captain Beer's fight; and was not able some time to go, but as
they carried him, and as he took oaken leaves and laid to his wound, and through the blessing of God he
was able to travel again. Then I took oaken leaves and laid to my side, and with the blessing of God it
cured me also; yet before the cure was wrought, I may say, as it is in Psalm 38.5-6 "My wounds stink and
are corrupt, I am troubled, I am bowed down greatly, I go mourning all the day long." I sat much alone
with a poor wounded child in my lap, which moaned night and day, having nothing to revive the body, or
cheer the spirits of her, but instead of that, sometimes one Indian would come and tell me one hour that
"your master will knock your child in the head," and then a second, and then a third, "your master will
quickly knock your child in the head."
This was the comfort I had from them, miserable comforters are ye all, as he said. Thus nine days I sat
upon my knees, with my babe in my lap, till my flesh was raw again; my child being even ready to depart
this sorrowful world, they bade me carry it out to another wigwam (I suppose because they would not be
troubled with such spectacles) whither I went with a very heavy heart, and down I sat with the picture of
death in my lap. About two hours in the night, my sweet babe like a lamb departed this life on Feb. 18,
1675. It being about six years, and five months old. It was nine days from the first wounding, in this
miserable condition, without any refreshing of one nature or other, except a little cold water. I cannot but
take notice how at another time I could not bear to be in the room where any dead person was, but now
the case is changed; I must and could lie down by my dead babe, side by side all the night after. I have
thought since of the wonderful goodness of God to me in preserving me in the use of my reason and
senses in that distressed time, that I did not use wicked and violent means to end my own miserable life.
In the morning, when they understood that my child was dead they sent for me home to my master's
wigwam (by my master in this writing, must be understood Quinnapin, who was a Sagamore, and married
King Philip's wife's sister; not that he first took me, but I was sold to him by another Narragansett Indian,
who took me when first I came out of the garrison). I went to take up my dead child in my arms to carry
it with me, but they bid me let it alone; there was no resisting, but go I must and leave it. When I had
been at my master's wigwam, I took the first opportunity I could get to go look after my dead child.
When I came I asked them what they had done with it; then they told me it was upon the hill. Then they
went and showed me where it was, where I saw the ground was newly digged, and there they told me they
had buried it. There I left that child in the wilderness, and must commit it, and myself also in this
wilderness condition, to Him who is above all. God having taken away this dear child, I went to see my
daughter Mary, who was at this same Indian town, at a wigwam not very far off, though we had little
liberty or opportunity to see one another. She was about ten years old, and taken from the door at first by
a Praying Ind. and afterward sold for a gun. When I came in sight, she would fall aweeping; at which they
were provoked, and would not let me come near her, but bade me be gone; which was a heart-cutting
word to me. I had one child dead, another in the wilderness, I knew not where, the third they would not
let me come near to: "Me (as he said) have ye bereaved of my Children, Joseph is not, and Simeon is not,
and ye will take Benjamin also, all these things are against me." I could not sit still in this condition, but
kept walking from one place to another. And as I was going along, my heart was even overwhelmed with
the thoughts of my condition, and that I should have children, and a nation which I knew not, ruled over
them. Whereupon I earnestly entreated the Lord, that He would consider my low estate, and show me a
token for good, and if it were His blessed will, some sign and hope of some relief. And indeed quickly
the Lord answered, in some measure, my poor prayers; for as I was going up and down mourning and
lamenting my condition, my son came to me, and asked me how I did. I had not seen him before, since
the destruction of the town, and I knew not where he was, till I was informed by himself, that he was
amongst a smaller parcel of Indians, whose place was about six miles off. With tears in his eyes, he asked
me whether his sister Sarah was dead; and told me he had seen his sister Mary; and prayed me, that I
would not be troubled in reference to himself. The occasion of his coming to see me at this time, was
this: there was, as I said, about six miles from us, a small plantation of Indians, where it seems he had
been during his captivity; and at this time, there were some forces of the Ind. gathered out of our
company, and some also from them (among whom was my son's master) to go to assault and burn
Medfield. In this time of the absence of his master, his dame brought him to see me. I took this to be
some gracious answer to my earnest and unfeigned desire. The next day, viz. to this, the Indians returned
from Medfield, all the company, for those that belonged to the other small company, came through the
town that now we were at. But before they came to us, Oh! the outrageous roaring and hooping that there
was. They began their din about a mile before they came to us. By their noise and hooping they signified
how many they had destroyed (which was at that time twenty-three). Those that were with us at home
were gathered together as soon as they heard the hooping, and every time that the other went over their
number, these at home gave a shout, that the very earth rung again. And thus they continued till those
that had been upon the expedition were come up to the Sagamore's wigwam; and then, Oh, the hideous
insulting and triumphing that there was over some Englishmen's scalps that they had taken (as their
manner is) and brought with them. I cannot but take notice of the wonderful mercy of God to me in those
afflictions, in sending me a Bible. One of the Indians that came from Medfield fight, had brought some
plunder, came to me, and asked me, if I would have a Bible, he had got one in his basket. I was glad of it,
and asked him, whether he thought the Indians would let me read? He answered, yes. So I took the
Bible, and in that melancholy time, it came into my mind to read first the 28th chapter of Deuteronomy,
which I did, and when I had read it, my dark heart wrought on this manner: that there was no mercy for
me, that the blessings were gone, and the curses come in their room, and that I had lost my opportunity.
But the Lord helped me still to go on reading till I came to Chap. 30, the seven first verses, where I found,
there was mercy promised again, if we would return to Him by repentance; and though we were scattered
from one end of the earth to the other, yet the Lord would gather us together, and turn all those curses
upon our enemies. I do not desire to live to forget this Scripture, and what comfort it was to me.
Now the Ind. began to talk of removing from this place, some one way, and some another. There were
now besides myself nine English captives in this place (all of them children, except one woman). I got an
opportunity to go and take my leave of them. They being to go one way, and I another, I asked them
whether they were earnest with God for deliverance. They told me they did as they were able, and it was
some comfort to me, that the Lord stirred up children to look to Him. The woman, viz. goodwife Joslin,
told me she should never see me again, and that she could find in her heart to run away. I wished her not
to run away by any means, for we were near thirty miles from any English town, and she very big with
child, and had but one week to reckon, and another child in her arms, two years old, and bad rivers there
were to go over, and we were feeble, with our poor and coarse entertainment. I had my Bible with me, I
pulled it out, and asked her whether she would read. We opened the Bible and lighted on Psalm 27, in
which Psalm we especially took notice of that, ver. ult., "Wait on the Lord, Be of good courage, and he
shall strengthen thine Heart, wait I say on the Lord."
The Fourth Remove
And now I must part with that little company I had. Here I parted from my daughter Mary (whom I never
saw again till I saw her in Dorchester, returned from captivity), and from four little cousins and neighbors,
some of which I never saw afterward: the Lord only knows the end of them. Amongst them also was that
poor woman before mentioned, who came to a sad end, as some of the company told me in my travel: she
having much grief upon her spirit about her miserable condition, being so near her time, she would be
often asking the Indians to let her go home; they not being willing to that, and yet vexed with her
importunity, gathered a great company together about her and stripped her naked, and set her in the midst
of them, and when they had sung and danced about her (in their hellish manner) as long as they pleased
they knocked her on head, and the child in her arms with her. When they had done that they made a fire
and put them both into it, and told the other children that were with them that if they attempted to go
home, they would serve them in like manner. The children said she did not shed one tear, but prayed all
the while. But to return to my own journey, we traveled about half a day or little more, and came to a
desolate place in the wilderness, where there were no wigwams or inhabitants before; we came about the
middle of the afternoon to this place, cold and wet, and snowy, and hungry, and weary, and no refreshing
for man but the cold ground to sit on, and our poor Indian cheer.
Heart-aching thoughts here I had about my poor children, who were scattered up and down among the
wild beasts of the forest. My head was light and dizzy (either through hunger or hard lodging, or trouble
or all together), my knees feeble, my body raw by sitting double night and day, that I cannot express to
man the affliction that lay upon my spirit, but the Lord helped me at that time to express it to Himself. I
opened my Bible to read, and the Lord brought that precious Scripture to me. "Thus saith the Lord,
refrain thy voice from weeping, and thine eyes from tears, for thy work shall be rewarded, and they shall
come again from the land of the enemy" (Jeremiah 31.16). This was a sweet cordial to me when I was
ready to faint; many and many a time have I sat down and wept sweetly over this Scripture. At this place
we continued about four days.
The Fifth Remove
The occasion (as I thought) of their moving at this time was the English army, it being near and following
them. For they went as if they had gone for their lives, for some considerable way, and then they made a
stop, and chose some of their stoutest men, and sent them back to hold the English army in play whilst the
rest escaped. And then, like Jehu, they marched on furiously, with their old and with their young: some
carried their old decrepit mothers, some carried one, and some another. Four of them carried a great
Indian upon a bier; but going through a thick wood with him, they were hindered, and could make no
haste, whereupon they took him upon their backs, and carried him, one at a time, till they came to
Banquaug river. Upon a Friday, a little after noon, we came to this river. When all the company was
come up, and were gathered together, I thought to count the number of them, but they were so many, and
being somewhat in motion, it was beyond my skill. In this travel, because of my wound, I was somewhat
favored in my load; I carried only my knitting work and two quarts of parched meal. Being very faint I
asked my mistress to give me one spoonful of the meal, but she would not give me a taste. They quickly
fell to cutting dry trees, to make rafts to carry them over the river: and soon my turn came to go over. By
the advantage of some brush which they had laid upon the raft to sit upon, I did not wet my foot (which
many of themselves at the other end were mid-leg deep) which cannot but be acknowledged as a favor of
God to my weakened body, it being a very cold time. I was not before acquainted with such kind of
doings or dangers. "When thou passeth through the waters I will be with thee, and through the rivers they
shall not overflow thee" (Isaiah 43.2). A certain number of us got over the river that night, but it was the
night after the Sabbath before all the company was got over. On the Saturday they boiled an old horse's
leg which they had got, and so we drank of the broth, as soon as they thought it was ready, and when it
was almost all gone, they filled it up again.
The first week of my being among them I hardly ate any thing; the second week I found my stomach
grow very faint for want of something; and yet it was very hard to get down their filthy trash; but the third
week, though I could think how formerly my stomach would turn against this or that, and I could starve
and die before I could eat such things, yet they were sweet and savory to my taste. I was at this time
knitting a pair of white cotton stockings for my mistress; and had not yet wrought upon a Sabbath day.
When the Sabbath came they bade me go to work. I told them it was the Sabbath day, and desired them to
let me rest, and told them I would do as much more tomorrow; to which they answered me they would
break my face. And here I cannot but take notice of the strange providence of God in preserving the
heathen. They were many hundreds, old and young, some sick, and some lame; many had papooses at
their backs. The greatest number at this time with us were squaws, and they traveled with all they had,
bag and baggage, and yet they got over this river aforesaid; and on Monday they set their wigwams on
fire, and away they went. On that very day came the English army after them to this river, and saw the
smoke of their wigwams, and yet this river put a stop to them. God did not give them courage or activity
to go over after us. We were not ready for so great a mercy as victory and deliverance. If we had been
God would have found out a way for the English to have passed this river, as well as for the Indians with
their squaws and children, and all their luggage. "Oh that my people had hearkened to me, and Israel had
walked in my ways, I should soon have subdued their enemies, and turned my hand against their
adversaries" (Psalm 81.13-14).
The Sixth Remove
On Monday (as I said) they set their wigwams on fire and went away. It was a cold morning, and before
us there was a great brook with ice on it; some waded through it, up to the knees and higher, but others
went till they came to a beaver dam, and I amongst them, where through the good providence of God, I
did not wet my foot. I went along that day mourning and lamenting, leaving farther my own country, and
traveling into a vast and howling wilderness, and I understood something of Lot's wife's temptation, when
she looked back. We came that day to a great swamp, by the side of which we took up our lodging that
night. When I came to the brow of the hill, that looked toward the swamp, I thought we had been come to
a great Indian town (though there were none but our own company). The Indians were as thick as the
trees: it seemed as if there had been a thousand hatchets going at once. If one looked before one there
was nothing but Indians, and behind one, nothing but Indians, and so on either hand, I myself in the
midst, and no Christian soul near me, and yet how hath the Lord preserved me in safety? Oh the
experience that I have had of the goodness of God, to me and mine!
The Seventh Remove
After a restless and hungry night there, we had a wearisome time of it the next day. The swamp by which
we lay was, as it were, a deep dungeon, and an exceeding high and steep hill before it. Before I got to the
top of the hill, I thought my heart and legs, and all would have broken, and failed me. What, through
faintness and soreness of body, it was a grievous day of travel to me. As we went along, I saw a place
where English cattle had been. That was comfort to me, such as it was. Quickly after that we came to an
English path, which so took with me, that I thought I could have freely lyen down and died. That day, a
little after noon, we came to Squakeag, where the Indians quickly spread themselves over the deserted
English fields, gleaning what they could find. Some picked up ears of wheat that were crickled down;
some found ears of Indian corn; some found ground nuts, and others sheaves of wheat that were frozen
together in the shock, and went to threshing of them out. Myself got two ears of Indian corn, and whilst I
did but turn my back, one of them was stolen from me, which much troubled me. There came an Indian to
them at that time with a basket of horse liver. I asked him to give me a piece. "What," says he, "can you
eat horse liver?" I told him, I would try, if he would give a piece, which he did, and I laid it on the coals
to roast. But before it was half ready they got half of it away from me, so that I was fain to take the rest
and eat it as it was, with the blood about my mouth, and yet a savory bit it was to me: "For to the hungry
soul every bitter thing is sweet." A solemn sight methought it was, to see fields of wheat and Indian corn
forsaken and spoiled and the remainders of them to be food for our merciless enemies. That night we had
a mess of wheat for our supper.
The Eighth Remove
On the morrow morning we must go over the river, i.e. Connecticut, to meet with King Philip. Two
canoes full they had carried over; the next turn I myself was to go. But as my foot was upon the canoe to
step in there was a sudden outcry among them, and I must step back, and instead of going over the river, I
must go four or five miles up the river farther northward. Some of the Indians ran one way, and some
another. The cause of this rout was, as I thought, their espying some English scouts, who were
thereabout. In this travel up the river about noon the company made a stop, and sat down; some to eat,
and others to rest them. As I sat amongst them, musing of things past, my son Joseph unexpectedly came
to me. We asked of each other's welfare, bemoaning our doleful condition, and the change that had come
upon us. We had husband and father, and children, and sisters, and friends, and relations, and house, and
home, and many comforts of this life: but now we may say, as Job, "Naked came I out of my mother's
womb, and naked shall I return: the Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the
Lord." I asked him whether he would read. He told me he earnestly desired it, I gave him my Bible, and
he lighted uponthat comfortable Scripture "I shall not die but live, and declare the works of the Lord: the
Lord hath chastened me sore yet he hath not given me over to death" (Psalm 118.17-18). "Look here,
mother," says he, "did you read this?" And here I may take occasion to mention one principal ground of
my setting forth these lines: even as the psalmist says, to declare the works of the Lord, and His
wonderful power in carrying us along, preserving us in the wilderness, while under the enemy's hand, and
returning of us in safety again. And His goodness in bringing to my hand so many comfortable and
suitable scriptures in my distress. But to return, we traveled on till night; and in the morning, we must go
over the river to Philip's crew. When I was in the canoe I could not but be amazed at the numerous crew
of pagans that were on the bank on the other side. When I came ashore, they gathered all about me, I
sitting alone in the midst. I observed they asked one another questions, and laughed, and rejoiced over
their gains and victories. Then my heart began to fail: and I fell aweeping, which was the first time to my
remembrance, that I wept before them. Although I had met with so much affliction, and my heart was
many times ready to break, yet could I not shed one tear in their sight; but rather had been all this while in
a maze, and like one astonished. But now I may say as Psalm 137.1, "By the Rivers of Babylon, there we
sate down: yea, we wept when we remembered Zion." There one of them asked me why I wept. I could
hardly tell what to say: Yet I answered, they would kill me. "No," said he, "none will hurt you." Then
came one of them and gave me two spoonfuls of meal to comfort me, and another gave me half a pint of
peas; which was more worth than many bushels at another time. Then I went to see King Philip. He bade
me come in and sit down, and asked me whether I would smoke it (a usual
compliment nowadays amongst saints and sinners) but this no way suited me. For though I had formerly
used tobacco, yet I had left it ever since I was first taken. It seems to be a bait the devil lays to make men
lose their precious time. I remember with shame how formerly, when I had taken two or three pipes, I
was presently ready for another, such a bewitching thing it is. But I thank God, He has now given me
power over it; surely there are many who may be better employed than to lie sucking a stinking tobaccopipe.
Now the Indians gather their forces to go against Northampton. Over night one went about yelling and
hooting to give notice of the design. Whereupon they fell to boiling of ground nuts, and parching of corn
(as many as had it) for their provision; and in the morning away they went. During my abode in this
place, Philip spake to me to make a shirt for his boy, which I did, for which he gave me a shilling. I
offered the money to my master, but he bade me keep it; and with it I bought a piece of horse flesh.
Afterwards he asked me to make a cap for his boy, for which he invited me to dinner. I went, and he gave
me a pancake, about as big as two fingers. It was made of parched wheat, beaten, and fried in bear's
grease, but I thought I never tasted pleasanter meat in my life. There was a squaw who spake to me to
make a shirt for her sannup, for which she gave me a piece of bear. Another asked me to knit a pair of
stockings, for which she gave me a quart of peas. I boiled my peas and bear together, and invited my
master and mistress to dinner; but the proud gossip, because I served them both in one dish, would eat
nothing, except one bit that he gave her upon the point of his knife. Hearing that my son was come to this
place, I went to see him, and found him lying flat upon the ground. I asked him how he could sleep so?
He answered me that he was not asleep, but at prayer; and lay so, that they might not observe what he was
doing. I pray God he may remember these things now he is returned in safety. At this place (the sun now
getting higher) what with the beams and heat of the sun, and the smoke of the wigwams, I thought I
should have been blind. I could scarce discern one wigwam from another. There was here one Mary
Thurston of Medfield, who seeing how it was with me, lent me a hat to wear; but as soon as I was gone,
the squaw (who owned that Mary Thurston) came running after me, and got it away again. Here was the
squaw that gave me one spoonful of meal. I put it in my pocket to keep it safe. Yet notwithstanding,
somebody stole it, but put five Indian corns in the room of it; which corns were the greatest provisions I
had in my travel for one day.
The Indians returning from Northampton, brought with them some horses, and sheep, and other things
which they had taken; I desired them that they would carry me to Albany upon one of those horses, and
sell me for powder: for so they had sometimes discoursed. I was utterly hopeless of getting home on
foot, the way that I came. I could hardly bear to think of the many weary steps I had taken, to come to
this place.
The Ninth Remove
But instead of going either to Albany or homeward, we must go five miles up the river, and then go over
it. Here we abode a while. Here lived a sorry Indian, who spoke to me to make him a shirt. When I had
done it, he would pay me nothing. But he living by the riverside, where I often went to fetch water, I
would often be putting of him in mind, and calling for my pay: At last he told me if I would make another
shirt, for a papoose not yet born, he would give me a knife, which he did when I had done it. I carried the
knife in, and my master asked me to give it him, and I was not a little glad that I had anything that they
would accept of, and be pleased with. When we were at this place, my master's maid came home; she had
been gone three weeks into the Narragansett country to fetch corn, where they had stored up some in the
ground. She brought home about a peck and half of corn. This was about the time that their great
captain, Naananto, was killed in the Narragansett country. My son being now about a mile from me, I
asked liberty to go and see him; they bade me go, and away I went; but quickly lost myself, traveling over
hills and through swamps, and could not find the way to him. And I cannot but admire at the wonderful
power and goodness of God to me, in that, though I was gone from home, and met with all sorts of
Indians, and those I had no knowledge of, and there being no Christian soul near me; yet not one of them
offered the least imaginable miscarriage to me. I turned homeward again, and met with my master. He
showed me the way to my son. When I came to him I found him not well: and withal he had a boil on his
side, which much troubled him. We bemoaned one another a while, as the Lord helped us, and then I
returned again. When I was returned, I found myself as unsatisfied as I was before. I went up and down
mourning and lamenting; and my spirit was ready to sink with the thoughts of my poor children. My son
was ill, and I could not but think of his mournful looks, and no Christian friend was near him, to do any
office of love for him, either for soul or body. And my poor girl, I knew not where she was, nor whether
she was sick, or well, or alive, or dead. I repaired under these thoughts to my Bible (my great comfort in
that time) and that Scripture came to my hand, "Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee"
(Psalm 55.22).
But I was fain to go and look after something to satisfy my hunger, and going among the wigwams, I
went into one and there found a squaw who showed herself very kind to me, and gave me a piece of bear.
I put it into my pocket, and came home, but could not find an opportunity to broil it, for fear they would
get it from me, and there it lay all that day and night in my stinking pocket. In the morning I went to the
same squaw, who had a kettle of ground nuts boiling. I asked her to let me boil my piece of bear in her
kettle, which she did, and gave me some ground nuts to eat with it: and I cannot but think how pleasant it
was to me. I have sometime seen bear baked very handsomely among the English, and some like it, but
the thought that it was bear made me tremble. But now that was savory to me that one would think was
enough to turn the stomach of a brute creature.
One bitter cold day I could find no room to sit down before the fire. I went out, and could not tell what to
do, but I went in to another wigwam, where they were also sitting round the fire, but the squaw laid a skin
for me, and bid me sit down, and gave me some ground nuts, and bade me come again; and told me they
would buy me, if they were able, and yet these were strangers to me that I never saw before.
The Tenth Remove
That day a small part of the company removed about three-quarters of a mile, intending further the next
day. When they came to the place where they intended to lodge, and had pitched their wigwams, being
hungry, I went again back to the place we were before at, to get something to eat, being encouraged by
the squaw's kindness, who bade me come again. When I was there, there came an Indian to look after me,
who when he had found me, kicked me all along. I went home and found venison roasting that night, but
they would not give me one bit of it. Sometimes I met with favor, and sometimes with nothing but
frowns.
The Eleventh Remove
The next day in the morning they took their travel, intending a day's journey up the river. I took my load
at my back, and quickly we came to wade over the river; and passed over tiresome and wearisome hills.
One hill was so steep that I was fain to creep up upon my knees, and to hold by the twigs and bushes to
keep myself from falling backward. My head also was so light that I usually reeled as I went; but I hope
all these wearisome steps that I have taken, are but a forewarning to me of the heavenly rest: "I know, O
Lord, that thy judgments are right, and that thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me" (Psalm 119.75).
The Twelfth Remove
It was upon a Sabbath-day-morning, that they prepared for their travel. This morning I asked my master
whether he would sell me to my husband. He answered me "Nux," which did much rejoice my spirit. My
mistress, before we went, was gone to the burial of a papoose, and returning, she found me sitting and
reading in my Bible; she snatched it hastily out of my hand, and threw it out of doors. I ran out and
catched it up, and put it into my pocket, and never let her see it afterward. Then they packed up their
things to be gone, and gave me my load. I complained it was too heavy, whereupon she gave me a slap in
the face, and bade me go; I lifted up my heart to God, hoping the redemption was not far off; and the
rather because their insolency grew worse and worse.
But the thoughts of my going homeward (for so we bent our course) much cheered my spirit, and made
my burden seem light, and almost nothing at all. But (to my amazement and great perplexity) the scale
was soon turned; for when we had gone a little way, on a sudden my mistress gives out; she would go no
further, but turn back again, and said I must go back again with her, and she called her sannup, and would
have had him gone back also, but he would not, but said he would go on, and come to us again in three
days. My spirit was, upon this, I confess, very impatient, and almost outrageous. I thought I could as
well have died as went back; I cannot declare the trouble that I was in about it; but yet back again I must
go. As soon as I had the opportunity, I took my Bible to read, and that quieting Scripture came to my
hand, "Be still, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46.10). Which stilled my spirit for the present. But a
sore time of trial, I concluded, I had to go through, my master being gone, who seemed to me the best
friend that I had of an Indian, both in cold and hunger, and quickly so it proved. Down I sat, with my
heart as full as it could hold, and yet so hungry that I could not sit neither; but going out to see what I
could find, and walking among the trees, I found six acorns, and two chestnuts, which were some
refreshment to me. Towards night I gathered some sticks for my own comfort, that I might not lie a-cold;
but when we came to lie down they bade me to go out, and lie somewhere else, for they had company
(they said) come in more than their own. I told them, I could not tell where to go, they bade me go look; I
told them, if I went to another wigwam they would be angry, and send me home again. Then one of the
company drew his sword, and told me he would run me through if I did not go presently. Then was I fain
to stoop to this rude fellow, and to go out in the night, I knew not whither. Mine eyes have seen that
fellow afterwards walking up and down Boston, under the appearance of a Friend Indian, and several
others of the like cut. I went to one wigwam, and they told me they had no room. Then I went to another,
and they said the same; at last an old Indian bade me to come to him, and his squaw gave me some
ground nuts; she gave me also something to lay under my head, and a good fire we had; and through the
good providence of God, I had a comfortable lodging that night. In the morning, another Indian bade me
come at night, and he would give me six ground nuts, which I did. We were at this place and time about
two miles from [the] Connecticut river. We went in the morning to gather ground nuts, to the river, and
went back again that night. I went with a good load at my back (for they when they went, though but a
little way, would carry all their trumpery with them). I told them the skin was off my back, but I had no
other comforting answer from them than this: that it would be no matter if my head were off too.
The Thirteenth Remove
Instead of going toward the Bay, which was that I desired, I must go with them five or six miles down the
river into a mighty thicket of brush; where we abode almost a fortnight. Here one asked me to make a
shirt for her papoose, for which she gave me a mess of broth, which was thickened with meal made of the
bark of a tree, and to make it the better, she had put into it about a handful of peas, and a few roasted
ground nuts. I had not seen my son a pretty while, and here was an Indian of whom I made inquiry after
him, and asked him when he saw him. He answered me that such a time his master roasted him, and that
himself did eat a piece of him, as big as his two fingers, and that he was very good meat. But the Lord
upheld my Spirit, under this discouragement; and I considered their horrible addictedness to lying, and
that there is not one of them that makes the least conscience of speaking of truth. In this place, on a cold
night, as I lay by the fire, I removed a stick that kept the heat from me. A squaw moved it down again, at
which I looked up, and she threw a handful of ashes in mine eyes. I thought I should have been quite
blinded, and have never seen more, but lying down, the water run out of my eyes, and carried the dirt with
it, that by the morning I recovered my sight again. Yet upon this, and the like occasions, I hope it is not
too much to say with Job, "Have pity upon me, O ye my Friends, for the Hand of the Lord has touched
me." And here I cannot but remember how many times sitting in their wigwams, and musing on things
past, I should suddenly leap up and run out, as if I had been at home, forgetting where I was, and what my
condition was; but when I was without, and saw nothing but wilderness, and woods, and a company of
barbarous heathens, my mind quickly returned to me, which made me think of that, spoken concerning
Sampson, who said, "I will go out and shake myself as at other times, but he wist not that the Lord was
departed from him." About this time I began to think that all my hopes of restoration would come to
nothing. I thought of the English army, and hoped for their coming, and being taken by them, but that
failed. I hoped to be carried to Albany, as the Indians had discoursed before, but that failed also. I
thought of being sold to my husband, as my master spake, but instead of that, my master himself was
gone, and I left behind, so that my spirit was now quite ready to sink. I asked them to let me go out and
pick up some sticks, that I might get alone, and pour out my heart unto the Lord. Then also I took my
Bible to read, but I found no comfort here neither, which many times I was wont to find. So easy a thing
it is with God to dry up the streams of Scripture comfort from us. Yet I can say, that in all my sorrows
and afflictions, God did not leave me to have my impatience work towards Himself, as if His ways were
unrighteous. But I knew that He laid upon me less than I deserved. Afterward, before this doleful time
ended with me, I was turning the leaves of my Bible, and the Lord brought to me some Scriptures, which
did a little revive me, as that [in] Isaiah 55.8: "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your
ways my ways, saith the Lord." And also that [in] Psalm 37.5: "Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust
also in him; and he shall bring it to pass." About this time they came yelping from Hadley, where they
had killed three Englishmen, and brought one captive with them, viz. Thomas Read. They all gathered
about the poor man, asking him many questions. I desired also to go and see him; and when I came, he
was crying bitterly, supposing they would quickly kill him. Whereupon I asked one of them, whether
they intended to kill him; he answered me, they would not. He being a little cheered with that, I asked
him about the welfare of my husband. He told me he saw him such a time in the Bay, and he was well,
but very melancholy. By which I certainly understood (though I suspected it before) that whatsoever the
Indians told me respecting him was vanity and lies. Some of them told me he was dead, and they had
killed him; some said he was married again, and that the Governor wished him to marry; and told him he
should have his choice, and that all persuaded I was dead. So like were these barbarous creatures to him
who was a liar from the beginning.
As I was sitting once in the wigwam here, Philip's maid came in with the child in her arms, and asked me
to give her a piece of my apron, to make a flap for it. I told her I would not. Then my mistress bade me
give it, but still I said no. The maid told me if I would not give her a piece, she would tear a piece off it. I
told her I would tear her coat then. With that my mistress rises up, and take up a stick big enough to have
killed me, and struck at me with it. But I stepped out, and she struck the stick into the mat of the
wigwam. But while she was pulling of it out I ran to the maid and gave her all my apron, and so that
storm went over.
Hearing that my son was come to this place, I went to see him, and told him his father was well, but
melancholy. He told me he was as much grieved for his father as for himself. I wondered at his speech,
for I thought I had enough upon my spirit in reference to myself, to make me mindless of my husband and
everyone else; they being safe among their friends. He told me also, that awhile before, his master
(together with other Indians) were going to the French for powder; but by the way the Mohawks met with
them, and killed four of their company, which made the rest turn back again, for it might have been worse
with him, had he been sold to the French, than it proved to be in his remaining with the Indians.
I went to see an English youth in this place, one John Gilbert of Springfield. I found him lying without
doors, upon the ground. I asked him how he did? He told me he was very sick of a flux, with eating so
much blood. They had turned him out of the wigwam, and with him an Indian papoose, almost dead
(whose parents had been killed), in a bitter cold day, without fire or clothes. The young man himself had
nothing on but his shirt and waistcoat. This sight was enough to melt a heart of flint. There they lay
quivering in the cold, the youth round like a dog, the papoose stretched out with his eyes and nose and
mouth full of dirt, and yet alive, and groaning. I advised John to go and get to some fire. He told me he
could not stand, but I persuaded him still, lest he should lie there and die. And with much ado I got him
to a fire, and went myself home. As soon as I was got home his master's daughter came after me, to know
what I had done with the Englishman. I told her I had got him to a fire in such a place. Now had I need
to pray Paul's Prayer "That we may be delivered from unreasonable and wicked men" (2 Thessalonians
3.2). For her satisfaction I went along with her, and brought her to him; but before I got home again it
was noised about that I was running away and getting the English youth, along with me; that as soon as I
came in they began to rant and domineer, asking me where I had been, and what I had been doing? and
saying they would knock him on the head. I told them I had been seeing the English youth, and that I
would not run away. They told me I lied, and taking up a hatchet, they came to me, and said they would
knock me down if I stirred out again, and so confined me to the wigwam. Now may I say with David, "I
am in a great strait" (2 Samuel 24.14). If I keep in, I must die with hunger, and if I go out, I must be
knocked in head. This distressed condition held that day, and half the next. And then the Lord
remembered me, whose mercies are great. Then came an Indian to me with a pair of stockings that were
too big for him, and he would have me ravel them out, and knit them fit for him. I showed myself
willing, and bid him ask my mistress if I might go along with him a little way; she said yes, I might, but I
was not a little refreshed with that news, that I had my liberty again. Then I went along with him, and he
gave me some roasted ground nuts, which did again revive my feeble stomach.
Being got out of her sight, I had time and liberty again to look into my Bible; which was my guide by
day, and my pillow by night. Now that comfortable Scripture presented itself to me, "For a small moment
have I forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I gather thee" (Isaiah 54.7). Thus the Lord carried me
along from one time to another, and made good to me this precious promise, and many others. Then my
son came to see me, and I asked his master to let him stay awhile with me, that I might comb his head,
and look over him, for he was almost overcome with lice. He told me, when I had done, that he was very
hungry, but I had nothing to relieve him, but bid him go into the wigwams as he went along, and see if he
could get any thing among them. Which he did, and it seems tarried a little too long; for his master was
angry with him, and beat him, and then sold him. Then he came running to tell me he had a new master,
and that he had given him some ground nuts already. Then I went along with him to his new master who
told me he loved him, and he should not want. So his master carried him away, and I never saw him
afterward, till I saw him at Piscataqua in Portsmouth.
That night they bade me go out of the wigwam again. My mistress's papoose was sick, and it died that
night, and there was one benefit in it--that there was more room. I went to a wigwam, and they bade me
come in, and gave me a skin to lie upon, and a mess of venison and ground nuts, which was a choice dish
among them. On the morrow they buried the papoose, and afterward, both morning and evening, there
came a company to mourn and howl with her; though I confess I could not much condole with them.
Many sorrowful days I had in this place, often getting alone. "Like a crane, or a swallow, so did I chatter;
I did mourn as a dove, mine eyes ail with looking upward. Oh, Lord, I am oppressed; undertake for me"
(Isaiah 38.14). I could tell the Lord, as Hezekiah, "Remember now O Lord, I beseech thee, how I have
walked before thee in truth." Now had I time to examine all my ways: my conscience did not accuse me
of unrighteousness toward one or other; yet I saw how in my walk with God, I had been a careless
creature. As David said, "Against thee, thee only have I sinned": and I might say with the poor publican,
"God be merciful unto me a sinner." On the Sabbath days, I could look upon the sun and think how
people were going to the house of God, to have their souls refreshed; and then home, and their bodies
also; but I was destitute of both; and might say as the poor prodigal, "He would fain have filled his belly
with the husks that the swine did eat, and no man gave unto him" (Luke 15.16). For I must say with him,
"Father, I have sinned against Heaven and in thy sight." I remembered how on the night before and after
the Sabbath, when my family was about me, and relations and neighbors with us, we could pray and sing,
and then refresh our bodies with the good creatures of God; and then have a comfortable bed to lie down
on; but instead of all this, I had only a little swill for the body and then, like a swine, must lie down on the
ground. I cannot express to man the sorrow that lay upon my spirit; the Lord knows it. Yet that
comfortable Scripture would often come to mind, "For a small moment have I forsaken thee, but with
great mercies will I gather thee."
The Fourteenth Remove
Now must we pack up and be gone from this thicket, bending our course toward the Baytowns; I having
nothing to eat by the way this day, but a few crumbs of cake, that an Indian gave my girl the same day we
were taken. She gave it me, and I put it in my pocket; there it lay, till it was so moldy (for want of good
baking) that one could not tell what it was made of; it fell all to crumbs, and grew so dry and hard, that it
was like little flints; and this refreshed me many times, when I was ready to faint. It was in my thoughts
when I put it into my mouth, that if ever I returned, I would tell the world what a blessing the Lord gave
to such mean food. As we went along they killed a deer, with a young one in her, they gave me a piece of
the fawn and it was so young and tender, that one might eat the bones as well as the flesh, and yet I
thought it very good. When night came on we sat down; it rained, but they quickly got up a bark
wigwam, where I lay dry that night. I looked out in the morning, and many of them had lain in the rain all
night, I saw by their reeking. Thus the Lord dealt mercifully with me many times, and I fared better than
many of them. In the morning they took the blood of the deer, and put it into the paunch, and so boiled it.
I could eat nothing of that, though they ate it sweetly. And yet they were so nice in other things, that
when I had fetched water, and had put the dish I dipped the water with into the kettle of water which I
brought, they would say they would knock me down; for they said, it was a sluttish trick.
The Fifteenth Remove
We went on our travel. I having got one handful of ground nuts, for my support that day, they gave me
my load, and I went on cheerfully (with the thoughts of going homeward), having my burden more on my
back than my spirit. We came to Banquang river again that day, near which we abode a few days.
Sometimes one of them would give me a pipe, another a little tobacco, another a little salt: which I would
change for a little victuals. I cannot but think what a wolvish appetite persons have in a starving
condition; for many times when they gave me that which was hot, I was so greedy, that I should burn my
mouth, that it would trouble me hours after, and yet I should quickly do the same again. And after I was
thoroughly hungry, I was never again satisfied. For though sometimes it fell out, that I got enough, and
did eat till I could eat no more, yet I was as unsatisfied as I was when I began. And now could I see that
Scripture verified (there being many Scriptures which we do not take notice of, or understand till we are
afflicted) "Thou shalt eat and not be satisfied" (Micah 6.14). Now might I see more than ever before, the
miseries that sin hath brought upon us. Many times I should be ready to run against the heathen, but the
Scripture would quiet me again, "Shall there be evil in a City and the Lord hath not done it?" (Amos 3.6).
The Lord help me to make a right improvement of His word, and that I might learn that great lesson: "He
hath showed thee (Oh Man) what is good, and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and
love mercy, and walk humbly with thy God? Hear ye the rod, and who hath appointed it" (Micah 6.8-9).
The Sixteenth Removal
We began this remove with wading over Banquang river: the water was up to the knees, and the stream
very swift, and so cold that I thought it would have cut me in sunder. I was so weak and feeble, that I
reeled as I went along, and thought there I must end my days at last, after my bearing and getting through
so many difficulties. The Indians stood laughing to see me staggering along; but in my distress the Lord
gave me experience of the truth, and goodness of that promise, "When thou passest through the waters, I
will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee" (Isaiah 43.2). Then I sat down to
put on my stockings and shoes, with the tears running down mine eyes, and sorrowful thoughts in my
heart, but I got up to go along with them. Quickly there came up to us an Indian, who informed them that
I must go to Wachusett to my master, for there was a letter come from the council to the Sagamores,
about redeeming the captives, and that there would be another in fourteen days, and that I must be there
ready. My heart was so heavy before that I could scarce speak or go in the path; and yet now so light, that
I could run. My strength seemed to come again, and recruit my feeble knees, and aching heart. Yet it
pleased them to go but one mile that night, and there we stayed two days. In that time came a company of
Indians to us, near thirty, all on horseback. My heart skipped within me, thinking they had been
Englishmen at the first sight of them, for they were dressed in English apparel, with hats, white
neckcloths, and sashes about their waists; and ribbons upon their shoulders; but when they came near,
there was a vast difference between the lovely faces of Christians, and foul looks of those heathens, which
much damped my spirit again.
The Seventeenth Remove
A comfortable remove it was to me, because of my hopes. They gave me a pack, and along we went
cheerfully; but quickly my will proved more than my strength; having little or no refreshing, my strength
failed me, and my spirits were almost quite gone. Now may I say with David "I am poor and needy, and
my heart is wounded within me. I am gone like the shadow when it declineth: I am tossed up and down
like the locust; my knees are weak through fasting, and my flesh faileth of fatness" (Psalm 119.22-24). At
night we came to an Indian town, and the Indians sat down by a wigwam discoursing, but I was almost
spent, and could scarce speak. I laid down my load, and went into the wigwam, and there sat an Indian
boiling of horses feet (they being wont to eat the flesh first, and when the feet were old and dried, and
they had nothing else, they would cut off the feet and use them). I asked him to give me a little of his
broth, or water they were boiling in; he took a dish, and gave me one spoonful of samp, and bid me take
as much of the broth as I would. Then I put some of the hot water to the samp, and drank it up, and my
spirit came again. He gave me also a piece of the ruff or ridding of the small guts, and I broiled it on
the coals; and now may I say with Jonathan, "See, I pray you, how mine eyes have been enlightened,
because I tasted a little of this honey" (1 Samuel 14.29). Now is my spirit revived again; though means
be never so inconsiderable, yet if the Lord bestow His blessing upon them, they shall refresh both soul
and body.
The Eighteenth Remove
We took up our packs and along we went, but a wearisome day I had of it. As we went along I saw an
Englishman stripped naked, and lying dead upon the ground, but knew not who it was. Then we came to
another Indian town, where we stayed all night. In this town there were four English children, captives;
and one of them my own sister's. I went to see how she did, and she was well, considering her captive
condition. I would have tarried that night with her, but they that owned her would not suffer it. Then I
went into another wigwam, where they were boiling corn and beans, which was a lovely sight to see, but I
could not get a taste thereof. Then I went to another wigwam, where there were two of the English
children; the squaw was boiling horses feet; then she cut me off a little piece, and gave one of the English
children a piece also. Being very hungry I had quickly eat up mine, but the child could not bite it, it was
so tough and sinewy, but lay sucking, gnawing, chewing and slabbering of it in the mouth and hand.
Then I took it of the child, and eat it myself, and savory it was to my taste. Then I may say as Job 6.7,
"The things that my soul refused to touch are as my sorrowful meat." Thus the Lord made that pleasant
refreshing, which another time would have been an abomination. Then I went home to my mistress's
wigwam; and they told me I disgraced my master with begging, and if I did so any more, they would
knock me in the head. I told them, they had as good knock me in head as starve me to death.
The Nineteenth Remove
They said, when we went out, that we must travel to Wachusett this day. But a bitter weary day I had of
it, traveling now three days together, without resting any day between. At last, after many weary steps, I
saw Wachusett hills, but many miles off. Then we came to a great swamp, through which we traveled,
up to the knees in mud and water, which was heavy going to one tired before. Being almost spent, I
thought I should have sunk down at last, and never got out; but I may say, as in Psalm 94.18, "When my
foot slipped, thy mercy, O Lord, held me up." Going along, having indeed my life, but little spirit, Philip,
who was in the company, came up and took me by the hand, and said, two weeks more and you shall be
mistress again. I asked him, if he spake true? He answered, "Yes, and quickly you shall come to your
master again; who had been gone from us three weeks." After many weary steps we came to Wachusett,
where he was: and glad I was to see him. He asked me, when I washed me? I told him not this month.
Then he fetched me some water himself, and bid me wash, and gave me the glass to see how I looked;
and bid his squaw give me something to eat. So she gave me a mess of beans and meat, and a little
ground nut cake. I was wonderfully revived with this favor showed me: "He made them also to be pitied
of all those that carried them captives" (Psalm 106.46).
My master had three squaws, living sometimes with one, and sometimes with another one, this old squaw,
at whose wigwam I was, and with whom my master had been those three weeks. Another was Wattimore
[Weetamoo] with whom I had lived and served all this while. A severe and proud dame she was,
bestowing every day in dressing herself neat as much time as any of the gentry of the land: powdering
her hair, and painting her face, going with necklaces, with jewels in her ears, and bracelets upon her
hands. When she had dressed herself, her work was to make girdles of wampum and beads. The third
squaw was a younger one, by whom he had two papooses. By the time I was refreshed by the old squaw,
with whom my master was, Weetamoo's maid came to call me home, at which I fell aweeping. Then the
old squaw told me, to encourage me, that if I wanted victuals, I should come to her, and that I should lie
there in her wigwam. Then I went with the maid, and quickly came again and lodged there. The squaw
laid a mat under me, and a good rug over me; the first time I had any such kindness showed me. I
understood that Weetamoo thought that if she should let me go and serve with the old squaw, she would
be in danger to lose not only my service, but the redemption pay also. And I was not a little glad to hear
this; being by it raised in my hopes, that in God's due time there would be an end of this sorrowful hour.
Then came an Indian, and asked me to knit him three pair of stockings, for which I had a hat, and a silk
handkerchief. Then another asked me to make her a shift, for which she gave me an apron.
Then came Tom and Peter, with the second letter from the council, about the captives. Though they were
Indians, I got them by the hand, and burst out into tears. My heart was so full that I could not speak to
them; but recovering myself, I asked them how my husband did, and all my friends and acquaintance?
They said, "They are all very well but melancholy." They brought me two biscuits, and a pound of
tobacco. The tobacco I quickly gave away. When it was all gone, one asked me to give him a pipe of
tobacco. I told him it was all gone. Then began he to rant and threaten. I told him when my husband
came I would give him some. Hang him rogue (says he) I will knock out his brains, if he comes here.
And then again, in the same breath they would say that if there should come an hundred without guns,
they would do them no hurt. So unstable and like madmen they were. So that fearing the worst, I durst not
send to my husband, though there were some thoughts of his coming to redeem and fetch me, not
knowing what might follow. For there was little more trust to them than to the master they served. When
the letter was come, the Sagamores met to consult about the captives, and called me to them to inquire
how much my husband would give to redeem me. When I came I sat down among them, as I was wont to
do, as their manner is. Then they bade me stand up, and said they were the General Court. They bid me
speak what I thought he would give. Now knowing that all we had was destroyed by the Indians, I was in
a great strait. I thought if I should speak of but a little it would be slighted, and hinder the matter; if of a
great sum, I knew not where it would be procured. Yet at a venture I said "Twenty pounds," yet desired
them to take less. But they would not hear of that, but sent that message to Boston, that for twenty pounds
I should be redeemed. It was a Praying Indian that wrote their letter for them. There was another Praying
Indian, who told me, that he had a brother, that would not eat horse; his conscience was so tender and
scrupulous (though as large as hell, for the destruction of poor Christians). Then he said, he read that
Scripture to him, "There was a famine in Samaria, and behold they besieged it, until an ass's head was
sold for four-score pieces of silver, and the fourth part of a cab of dove's dung for five pieces of silver" (2
Kings 6.25). He expounded this place to his brother, and showed him that it was lawful to eat that in a
famine which is not at another time. And now, says he, he will eat horse with any Indian of them all.
There was another Praying Indian, who when he had done all the mischief that he could, betrayed his own
father into the English hands, thereby to purchase his own life. Another Praying Indian was at Sudbury
fight, though, as he deserved, he was afterward hanged for it. There was another Praying Indian, so
wicked and cruel, as to wear a string about his neck, strung with Christians' fingers. Another Praying
Indian, when they went to Sudbury fight, went with them, and his squaw also with him, with her papoose
at her back. Before they went to that fight they got a company together to pow-wow. The manner was as
followeth: there was one that kneeled upon a deerskin, with the company round him in a ring who
kneeled, and striking upon the ground with their hands, and with sticks, and muttering or humming with
their mouths. Besides him who kneeled in the ring, there also stood one with a gun in his hand. Then he
on the deerskin made a speech, and all manifested assent to it; and so they did many times together. Then
they bade him with the gun go out of the ring, which he did. But when he was out, they called him in
again; but he seemed to make a stand; then they called the more earnestly, till he returned again. Then
they all sang. Then they gave him two guns, in either hand one. And so he on the deerskin began again;
and at the end of every sentence in his speaking, they all assented, humming or muttering with their
mouths, and striking upon the ground with their hands. Then they bade him with the two guns go out of
the ring again; which he did, a little way. Then they called him in again, but he made a stand. So they
called him with greater earnestness; but he stood reeling and wavering as if he knew not whither he
should stand or fall, or which way to go. Then they called him with exceeding great vehemency, all of
them, one and another. After a little while he turned in, staggering as he went, with his arms stretched out,
in either hand a gun. As soon as he came in they all sang and rejoiced exceedingly a while. And then he
upon the deerskin, made another speech unto which they all assented in a rejoicing manner. And so they
ended their business, and forthwith went to Sudbury fight. To my thinking they went without any scruple,
but that they should prosper, and gain the victory. And they went out not so rejoicing, but they came
home with as great a victory. For they said they had killed two captains and almost an hundred men. One
Englishman they brought along with them: and he said, it was too true, for they had made sad work at
Sudbury, as indeed it proved. Yet they came home without that rejoicing and triumphing over their
victory which they were wont to show at other times; but rather like dogs (as they say) which have lost
their ears. Yet I could not perceive that it was for their own loss of men. They said they had not lost above
five or six; and I missed none, except in one wigwam. When they went, they acted as if the devil had told
them that they should gain the victory; and now they acted as if the devil had told them they should have
a fall. Whither it were so or no, I cannot tell, but so it proved, for quickly they began to fall, and so held
on that summer, till they came to utter ruin. They came home on a Sabbath day, and the Powaw that
kneeled upon the deer-skin came home (I may say, without abuse) as black as the devil. When my master
came home, he came to me and bid me make a shirt for his papoose, of a holland-laced pillowbere.
About that time there came an Indian to me and bid me come to his wigwam at night, and he would give
me some pork and ground nuts. Which I did, and as I was eating, another Indian said to me, he seems to
be your good friend, but he killed two Englishmen at Sudbury, and there lie their clothes behind you: I
looked behind me, and there I saw bloody clothes, with bullet-holes in them. Yet the Lord suffered not
this wretch to do me any hurt. Yea, instead of that, he many times refreshed me; five or six times did he
and his squaw refresh my feeble carcass. If I went to their wigwam at any time, they would always give
me something, and yet they were strangers that I never saw before. Another squaw gave me a piece of
fresh pork, and a little salt with it, and lent me her pan to fry it in; and I cannot but remember what a
sweet, pleasant and delightful relish that bit had to me, to this day. So little do we prize common mercies
when we have them to the full.
The Twentieth Remove
It was their usual manner to remove, when they had done any mischief, lest they should be found out; and
so they did at this time. We went about three or four miles, and there they built a great wigwam, big
enough to hold an hundred Indians, which they did in preparation to a great day of dancing. They would
say now amongst themselves, that the governor would be so angry for his loss at Sudbury, that he would
send no more about the captives, which made me grieve and tremble. My sister being not far from the
place where we now were, and hearing that I was here, desired her master to let her come and see me, and
he was willing to it, and would go with her; but she being ready before him, told him she would go
before, and was come within a mile or two of the place. Then he overtook her, and began to rant as if he
had been mad, and made her go back again in the rain; so that I never saw her till I saw her in
Charlestown. But the Lord requited many of their ill doings, for this Indian her master, was hanged
afterward at Boston. The Indians now began to come from all quarters, against their merry dancing day.
Among some of them came one goodwife Kettle. I told her my heart was so heavy that it was ready to
break. "So is mine too," said she, but yet said, "I hope we shall hear some good news shortly." I could
hear how earnestly my sister desired to see me, and I as earnestly desired to see her; and yet neither of us
could get an opportunity. My daughter was also now about a mile off, and I had not seen her in nine or ten
weeks, as I had not seen my sister since our first taking. I earnestly desired them to let me go and see
them: yea, I entreated, begged, and persuaded them, but to let me see my daughter; and yet so hardhearted were they, that they would not suffer it. They made use of their tyrannical power whilst they had
it; but through the Lord's wonderful mercy, their time was now but short.
On a Sabbath day, the sun being about an hour high in the afternoon, came Mr. John Hoar (the council
permitting him, and his own foreward spirit inclining him), together with the two forementioned Indians,
Tom and Peter, with their third letter from the council. When they came near, I was abroad. Though I
saw them not, they presently called me in, and bade me sit down and not stir. Then they catched up their
guns, and away they ran, as if an enemy had been at hand, and the guns went off apace. I manifested some
great trouble, and they asked me what was the matter? I told them I thought they had killed the
Englishman (for they had in the meantime informed me that an Englishman was come). They said, no.
They shot over his horse and under and before his horse, and they pushed him this way and that way, at
their pleasure, showing what they could do. Then they let them come to their wigwams. I begged of them
to let me see the Englishman, but they would not. But there was I fain to sit their pleasure. When they had
talked their fill with him, they suffered me to go to him. We asked each other of our welfare, and how my
husband did, and all my friends? He told me they were all well, and would be glad to see me. Amongst
other things which my husband sent me, there came a pound of tobacco, which I sold for nine shillings in
money; for many of the Indians for want of tobacco, smoked hemlock, and ground ivy. It was a great
mistake in any, who thought I sent for tobacco; for through the favor of God, that desire was overcome. I
now asked them whether I should go home with Mr. Hoar? They answered no, one and another of them,
and it being night, we lay down with that answer. In the morning Mr. Hoar invited the Sagamores to
dinner; but when we went to get it ready we found that they had stolen the greatest part of the provision
Mr. Hoar had brought, out of his bags, in the night. And we may see the wonderful power of God, in that
one passage, in that when there was such a great number of the Indians together, and so greedy of a little
good food, and no English there but Mr. Hoar and myself, that there they did not knock us in the head,
and take what we had, there being not only some provision, but also trading-cloth, a part of the twenty
pounds agreed upon. But instead of doing us any mischief, they seemed to be ashamed of the fact, and
said, it were some matchit Indian that did it. Oh, that we could believe that there is nothing too hard for
God! God showed His power over the heathen in this, as He did over the hungry lions when Daniel was
cast into the den. Mr. Hoar called them betime to dinner, but they ate very little, they being so busy in
dressing themselves, and getting ready for their dance, which was carried on by eight of them, four men
and four squaws. My master and mistress being two. He was dressed in his holland shirt, with great laces
sewed at the tail of it; he had his silver buttons, his white stockings, his garters were hung round with
shillings, and he had girdles of wampum upon his head and shoulders. She had a kersey coat, and covered
with girdles of wampum from the loins upward. Her arms from her elbows to her hands were covered
with bracelets; there were handfuls of necklaces about her neck, and several sorts of jewels in her ears.
She had fine red stockings, and white shoes, her hair powdered and face painted red, that was always
before black. And all the dancers were after the same manner. There were two others singing and
knocking on a kettle for their music. They kept hopping up and down one after another, with a kettle of
water in the midst, standing warm upon some embers, to drink of when they were dry. They held on till it
was almost night, throwing out wampum to the standers by. At night I asked them again, if I should go
home? They all as one said no, except my husband would come for me. When we were lain down, my
master went out of the wigwam, and by and by sent in an Indian called James the Printer, who told Mr.
Hoar, that my master would let me go home tomorrow, if he would let him have one pint of liquors. Then
Mr. Hoar called his own Indians, Tom and Peter, and bid them go and see whether he would promise it
before them three; and if he would, he should have it; which he did, and he had it. Then Philip smelling
the business called me to him, and asked me what I would give him, to tell me some good news, and
speak a good word for me. I told him I could not tell what to give him. I would [give him] anything I had,
and asked him what he would have? He said two coats and twenty shillings in money, and half a bushel of
seed corn, and some tobacco. I thanked him for his love; but I knew the good news as well as the crafty
fox. My master after he had had his drink, quickly came ranting into the wigwam again, and called for
Mr. Hoar, drinking to him, and saying, he was a good man, and then again he would say, "hang him
rogue." Being almost drunk, he would drink to him, and yet presently say he should be hanged. Then he
called for me. I trembled to hear him, yet I was fain to go to him, and he drank to me, showing no
incivility. He was the first Indian I saw drunk all the while that I was amongst them. At last his squaw ran
out, and he after her, round the wigwam, with his money jingling at his knees. But she escaped him. But
having an old squaw he ran to her; and so through the Lord's mercy, we were no more troubled that night.
Yet I had not a comfortable night's rest; for I think I can say, I did not sleep for three nights together. The
night before the letter came from the council, I could not rest, I was so full of fears and troubles, God
many times leaving us most in the dark, when deliverance is nearest. Yea, at this time I could not rest
night nor day. The next night I was overjoyed, Mr. Hoar being come, and that with such good tidings.
The third night I was even swallowed up with the thoughts of things, viz. that ever I should go home
again; and that I must go, leaving my children behind me in the wilderness; so that sleep was now almost
departed from mine eyes.
On Tuesday morning they called their general court (as they call it) to consult and determine, whether I
should go home or no. And they all as one man did seemingly consent to it, that I should go home; except
Philip, who would not come among them.
But before I go any further, I would take leave to mention a few remarkable passages of providence,
which I took special notice of in my afflicted time.
1. Of the fair opportunity lost in the long march, a little after the fort fight, when our English army was so
numerous, and in pursuit of the enemy, and so near as to take several and destroy them, and the enemy in
such distress for food that our men might track them by their rooting in the earth for ground nuts, whilst
they were flying for their lives. I say, that then our army should want provision, and be forced to leave
their pursuit and return homeward; and the very next week the enemy came upon our town, like bears
bereft of their whelps, or so many ravenous wolves, rending us and our lambs to death. But what shall I
say? God seemed to leave his People to themselves, and order all things for His own holy ends. Shall
there be evil in the City and the Lord hath not done it? They are not grieved for the affliction of Joseph,
therefore shall they go captive, with the first that go captive. It is the Lord's doing, and it should be
marvelous in our eyes.
2. I cannot but remember how the Indians derided the slowness, and dullness of the English army, in its
setting out. For after the desolations at Lancaster and Medfield, as I went along with them, they asked me
when I thought the English army would come after them? I told them I could not tell. "It may be they will
come in May," said they. Thus did they scoff at us, as if the English would be a quarter of a year getting
ready.
3. Which also I have hinted before, when the English army with new supplies were sent forth to pursue
after the enemy, and they understanding it, fled before them till they came to Banquang river, where they
forthwith went over safely; that that river should be impassable to the English. I can but admire to see
the wonderful providence of God in preserving the heathen for further affliction to our poor country.
They could go in great numbers over, but the English must stop. God had an over-ruling hand in all those
things.
4. It was thought, if their corn were cut down, they would starve and die with hunger, and all their corn
that could be found, was destroyed, and they driven from that little they had in store, into the woods in the
midst of winter; and yet how to admiration did the Lord preserve them for His holy ends, and the
destruction of many still amongst the English! strangely did the Lord provide for them; that I did not see
(all the time I was among them) one man, woman, or child, die with hunger. Though many times they
would eat that, that a hog or a dog would hardly touch; yet by that God strengthened them to be a scourge
to His people. The chief and commonest food was ground nuts. They eat also nuts and acorns, artichokes,
lilly roots, ground beans, and several other weeds and roots, that I know not. They would pick up old
bones, and cut them to pieces at the joints, and if they were full of worms and maggots, they would
scald them over the fire to make the vermine come out, and then boil them, and drink up the liquor, and
then beat the great ends of them in a mortar, and so eat them. They would eat horse's guts, and ears, and
all sorts of wild birds which they could catch; also bear, venison, beaver, tortoise, frogs, squirrels,
dogs, skunks, rattlesnakes; yea, the very bark of trees; besides all sorts of creatures, and provision which
they plundered from the English. I can but stand in admiration to see the wonderful power of God in
providing for such a vast number of our enemies in the wilderness, where there was nothing to be seen,
but from hand to mouth. Many times in a morning, the generality of them would eat up all they had, and
yet have some further supply against they wanted. It is said, "Oh, that my People had hearkened to me,
and Israel had walked in my ways, I should soon have subdued their Enemies, and turned my hand against
their Adversaries" (Psalm 81.13-14). But now our perverse and evil carriages in the sight of the Lord,
have so offended Him, that instead of turning His hand against them, the Lord feeds and nourishes them
up to be a scourge to the whole land.
5. Another thing that I would observe is the strange providence of God, in turning things about when the
Indians was at the highest, and the English at the lowest. I was with the enemy eleven weeks and five
days, and not one week passed without the fury of the enemy, and some desolation by fire and sword
upon one place or other. They mourned (with their black faces) for their own losses, yet triumphed and
rejoiced in their inhumane, and many times devilish cruelty to the English. They would boast much of
their victories; saying that in two hours time they had destroyed such a captain and his company at such a
place; and boast how many towns they had destroyed, and then scoff, and say they had done them a good
turn to send them to Heaven so soon. Again, they would say this summer that they would knock all the
rogues in the head, or drive them into the sea, or make them fly the country; thinking surely, Agag-like,
"The bitterness of Death is past." Now the heathen begins to think all is their own, and the poor
Christians' hopes to fail (as to man) and now their eyes are more to God, and their hearts sigh heavenward; and to say in good earnest, "Help Lord, or we perish." When the Lord had brought His people to
this, that they saw no help in anything but Himself; then He takes the quarrel into His own hand; and
though they had made a pit, in their own imaginations, as deep as hell for the Christians that summer, yet
the Lord hurled themselves into it. And the Lord had not so many ways before to preserve them, but now
He hath as many to destroy them.
But to return again to my going home, where we may see a remarkable change of providence. At first
they were all against it, except my husband would come for me, but afterwards they assented to it, and
seemed much to rejoice in it; some asked me to send them some bread, others some tobacco, others
shaking me by the hand, offering me a hood and scarfe to ride in; not one moving hand or tongue against
it. Thus hath the Lord answered my poor desire, and the many earnest requests of others put up unto God
for me. In my travels an Indian came to me and told me, if I were willing, he and his squaw would run
away, and go home along with me. I told him no: I was not willing to run away, but desired to wait God's
time, that I might go home quietly, and without fear. And now God hath granted me my desire. O the
wonderful power of God that I have seen, and the experience that I have had. I have been in the midst of
those roaring lions, and savage bears, that feared neither God, nor man, nor the devil, by night and day,
alone and in company, sleeping all sorts together, and yet not one of them ever offered me the least abuse
of unchastity to me, in word or action. Though some are ready to say I speak it for my own credit; but I
speak it in the presence of God, and to His Glory. God's power is as great now, and as sufficient to save,
as when He preserved Daniel in the lion's den; or the three children in the fiery furnace. I may well say as
his Psalm 107.12 "Oh give thanks unto the Lord for he is good, for his mercy endureth for ever." Let the
redeemed of the Lord say so, whom He hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy, especially that I
should come away in the midst of so many hundreds of enemies quietly and peaceably, and not a dog
moving his tongue. So I took my leave of them, and in coming along my heart melted into tears, more
than all the while I was with them, and I was almost swallowed up with the thoughts that ever I should go
home again. About the sun going down, Mr. Hoar, and myself, and the two Indians came to Lancaster,
and a solemn sight it was to me. There had I lived many comfortable years amongst my relations and
neighbors, and now not one Christian to be seen, nor one house left standing. We went on to a farmhouse
that was yet standing, where we lay all night, and a comfortable lodging we had, though nothing but straw
to lie on. The Lord preserved us in safety that night, and raised us up again in the morning, and carried us
along, that before noon, we came to Concord. Now was I full of joy, and yet not without sorrow; joy to
see such a lovely sight, so many Christians together, and some of them my neighbors. There I met with
my brother, and my brother-in-law, who asked me, if I knew where his wife was? Poor heart! he had
helped to bury her, and knew it not. She being shot down by the house was partly burnt, so that those who
were at Boston at the desolation of the town, and came back afterward, and buried the dead, did not know
her. Yet I was not without sorrow, to think how many were looking and longing, and my own children
amongst the rest, to enjoy that deliverance that I had now received, and I did not know whether ever I
should see them again. Being recruited with food and raiment we went to Boston that day, where I met
with my dear husband, but the thoughts of our dear children, one being dead, and the other we could not
tell where, abated our comfort each to other. I was not before so much hemmed in with the merciless and
cruel heathen, but now as much with pitiful, tender-hearted and compassionate Christians. In that poor,
and distressed, and beggarly condition I was received in; I was kindly entertained in several houses. So
much love I received from several (some of whom I knew, and others I knew not) that I am not capable to
declare it. But the Lord knows them all by name. The Lord reward them sevenfold into their bosoms of
His spirituals, for their temporals. The twenty pounds, the price of my redemption, was raised by some
Boston gentlemen, and Mrs. Usher, whose bounty and religious charity, I would not forget to make
mention of. Then Mr. Thomas Shepard of Charlestown received us into his house, where we continued
eleven weeks; and a father and mother they were to us. And many more tender-hearted friends we met
with in that place. We were now in the midst of love, yet not without much and frequent heaviness of
heart for our poor children, and other relations, who were still in affliction. The week following, after my
coming in, the governor and council sent forth to the Indians again; and that not without success; for they
brought in my sister, and goodwife Kettle. Their not knowing where our children were was a sore trial to
us still, and yet we were not without secret hopes that we should see them again. That which was dead lay
heavier upon my spirit, than those which were alive and amongst the heathen: thinking how it suffered
with its wounds, and I was no way able to relieve it; and how it was buried by the heathen in the
wilderness from among all Christians. We were hurried up and down in our thoughts, sometime we
should hear a report that they were gone this way, and sometimes that; and that they were come in, in this
place or that. We kept inquiring and listening to hear concerning them, but no certain news as yet. About
this time the council had ordered a day of public thanksgiving. Though I thought I had still cause of
mourning, and being unsettled in our minds, we thought we would ride toward the eastward, to see if we
could hear anything concerning our children. And as we were riding along (God is the wise disposer of all
things) between Ipswich and Rowley we met with Mr. William Hubbard, who told us that our son Joseph
was come in to Major Waldron's, and another with him, which was my sister's son. I asked him how he
knew it? He said the major himself told him so. So along we went till we came to Newbury; and their
minister being absent, they desired my husband to preach the thanksgiving for them; but he was not
willing to stay there that night, but would go over to Salisbury, to hear further, and come again in the
morning, which he did, and preached there that day. At night, when he had done, one came and told him
that his daughter was come in at Providence. Here was mercy on both hands. Now hath God fulfilled that
precious Scripture which was such a comfort to me in my distressed condition. When my heart was ready
to sink into the earth (my children being gone, I could not tell whither) and my knees trembling under me,
and I was walking through the valley of the shadow of death; then the Lord brought, and now has fulfilled
that reviving word unto me: "Thus saith the Lord, Refrain thy voice from weeping, and thine eyes from
tears, for thy Work shall be rewarded, saith the Lord, and they shall come again from the Land of the
Enemy." Now we were between them, the one on the east, and the other on the west. Our son being
nearest, we went to him first, to Portsmouth, where we met with him, and with the Major also, who told
us he had done what he could, but could not redeem him under seven pounds, which the good people
thereabouts were pleased to pay. The Lord reward the major, and all the rest, though unknown to me, for
their labor of Love. My sister's son was redeemed for four pounds, which the council gave order for the
payment of. Having now received one of our children, we hastened toward the other. Going back through
Newbury my husband preached there on the Sabbath day; for which they rewarded him many fold.
On Monday we came to Charlestown, where we heard that the governor of Rhode Island had sent over for
our daughter, to take care of her, being now within his jurisdiction; which should not pass without our
acknowledgments. But she being nearer Rehoboth than Rhode Island, Mr. Newman went over, and took
care of her and brought her to his own house. And the goodness of God was admirable to us in our low
estate, in that He raised up passionate friends on every side to us, when we had nothing to recompense
any for their love. The Indians were now gone that way, that it was apprehended dangerous to go to her.
But the carts which carried provision to the English army, being guarded, brought her with them to
Dorchester, where we received her safe. Blessed be the Lord for it, for great is His power, and He can do
whatsoever seemeth Him good. Her coming in was after this manner: she was traveling one day with the
Indians, with her basket at her back; the company of Indians were got before her, and gone out of sight,
all except one squaw; she followed the squaw till night, and then both of them lay down, having nothing
over them but the heavens and under them but the earth. Thus she traveled three days together, not
knowing whither she was going; having nothing to eat or drink but water, and green hirtle-berries. At last
they came into Providence, where she was kindly entertained by several of that town. The Indians often
said that I should never have her under twenty pounds. But now the Lord hath brought her in upon freecost, and given her to me the second time. The Lord make us a blessing indeed, each to others. Now have
I seen that Scripture also fulfilled, "If any of thine be driven out to the outmost parts of heaven, from
thence will the Lord thy God gather thee, and from thence will he fetch thee. And the Lord thy God will
put all these curses upon thine enemies, and on them which hate thee, which persecuted thee"
(Deuteronomy 30.4-7). Thus hath the Lord brought me and mine out of that horrible pit, and hath set us
in the midst of tender-hearted and compassionate Christians. It is the desire of my soul that we may walk
worthy of the mercies received, and which we are receiving.
Our family being now gathered together (those of us that were living), the South Church in Boston hired
an house for us. Then we removed from Mr. Shepard's, those cordial friends, and went to Boston, where
we continued about three-quarters of a year. Still the Lord went along with us, and provided graciously
for us. I thought it somewhat strange to set up house-keeping with bare walls; but as Solomon says,
"Money answers all things" and that we had through the benevolence of Christian friends, some in this
town, and some in that, and others; and some from England; that in a little time we might look, and see
the house furnished with love. The Lord hath been exceeding good to us in our low estate, in that when
we had neither house nor home, nor other necessaries, the Lord so moved the hearts of these and those
towards us, that we wanted neither food, nor raiment for ourselves or ours: "There is a Friend which
sticketh closer than a Brother" (Proverbs 18.24). And how many such friends have we found, and now
living amongst? And truly such a friend have we found him to be unto us, in whose house we lived, viz.
Mr. James Whitcomb, a friend unto us near hand, and afar off.
I can remember the time when I used to sleep quietly without workings in my thoughts, whole nights
together, but now it is other ways with me. When all are fast about me, and no eye open, but His who ever
waketh, my thoughts are upon things past, upon the awful dispensation of the Lord towards us, upon His
wonderful power and might, in carrying of us through so many difficulties, in returning us in safety, and
suffering none to hurt us. I remember in the night season, how the other day I was in the midst of
thousands of enemies, and nothing but death before me. It is then hard work to persuade myself, that ever
I should be satisfied with bread again. But now we are fed with the finest of the wheat, and, as I may say,
with honey out of the rock. Instead of the husk, we have the fatted calf. The thoughts of these things in the
particulars of them, and of the love and goodness of God towards us, make it true of me, what David said
of himself, "I watered my Couch with my tears" (Psalm 6.6). Oh! the wonderful power of God that mine
eyes have seen, affording matter enough for my thoughts to run in, that when others are sleeping mine
eyes are weeping.
I have seen the extreme vanity of this world: One hour I have been in health, and wealthy, wanting
nothing. But the next hour in sickness and wounds, and death, having nothing but sorrow and affliction.
Before I knew what affliction meant, I was ready sometimes to wish for it. When I lived in prosperity,
having the comforts of the world about me, my relations by me, my heart cheerful, and taking little care
for anything, and yet seeing many, whom I preferred before myself, under many trials and afflictions, in
sickness, weakness, poverty, losses, crosses, and cares of the world, I should be sometimes jealous least I
should have my portion in this life, and that Scripture would come to my mind, "For whom the Lord
loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every Son whom he receiveth" (Hebrews 12.6). But now I see the
Lord had His time to scourge and chasten me. The portion of some is to have their afflictions by drops,
now one drop and then another; but the dregs of the cup, the wine of astonishment, like a sweeping rain
that leaveth no food, did the Lord prepare to be my portion. Affliction I wanted, and affliction I had, full
measure (I thought), pressed down and running over. Yet I see, when God calls a person to anything, and
through never so many difficulties, yet He is fully able to carry them through and make them see, and say
they have been gainers thereby. And I hope I can say in some measure, as David did, "It is good for me
that I have been afflicted." The Lord hath showed me the vanity of these outward things. That they are
the vanity of vanities, and vexation of spirit, that they are but a shadow, a blast, a bubble, and things of no
continuance. That we must rely on God Himself, and our whole dependance must be upon Him. If
trouble from smaller matters begin to arise in me, I have something at hand to check myself with, and say,
why am I troubled? It was but the other day that if I had had the world, I would have given it for my
freedom, or to have been a servant to a Christian. I have learned to look beyond present and smaller
troubles, and to be quieted under them. As Moses said, "Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord"
(Exodus 14.13).
Finis.
Source: The Project Gutenberg Etext of "Captivity and Restoration"
DOCUMENT 19
Hetty Shepard (b. 1660) was the neice of the famous "Indian fighter," Benjamin Church and kept a diary
of during the tumultuous time of "King Philip's War" in 1675 and 1676. Does this young girl's journal
provide us with a different perspective on life in Puritan New England than accounts penned by colonial
men?
December 5, 1675, and is as follows :
I am fifteen years old to-day, and while sitting with my stitchery in my hand, there came a man in all wet
with the salt spray, he having just landed by the boat from Sandwich, which had much ado to land by
reason of the surf. I myself had been down to the shore and saw the great waves breaking, and the high
tide running up as far as the hillocks of dead grass. The man George, an Indian, brings word of much
sickness in Boston, and great trouble with the Quakers and Baptists; that many of the children throughout
the country be not baptised, and without that religion comes to nothing. My mother hath bid me this day
put on a fresh kirtle and wimple, though it be not the Lord’s day, and my Aunt Alice coming in did chide
me and say that to pay attention to a birthday was putting myself with the world’s people. It happens from
this that my kirtle and wimple are not longer pleasing to me, and what with this and the bad news from
Boston my birthday has ended in sorrow.
December 25. My Cousin Jane coming to-day has told me much of the merry ways of England upon this
day, of the yule log, and plum puddings, till I was fain to say that I would be glad to see those merry
doings; but she told me it was far better to be in a state of grace and not given over to popish practices.
But I thought: she looked sad herself and almost unhappy as she reminded of the coming of John Baily
who is to preach to-morrow all day. If those things are so bad why did she tell me of them? She asked me
to help her get the fore-room in order and lend her our fermity pot for there would be a mort of people
come to the meeting and she would need twice as much fermity as she had ever made before.
January 1. Yesterday was a day indeed. The preaching began at ten in the morning, and held until twelve,
when a strong prayer was made and I was, I hope, much built up. But when the sermon was preached in
the afternoon I would fain sleep, and lost much I fear me of the discourse, and this weighed heavily on my
conscience, so that when I went home and found that brother Stephen had received word that he was to be
bound to Mr. Bates of Plymouth for five years I wept sore and felt to murmur greatly.
February 2. Brother Stephen’s letter cheers me, though the sad news of the Indian disturbance fills me
with fear. Uncle Benjamin Church hath this day set out to fight Philip, if it may be that he finds him.
Yesterday our Indian, George, betrayed much uneasiness after father had read the account of the burning
of Sodom and Gomorrah. He has learned to understand English, and sometimes I tremble lest he should
betray to the wandering Indians of the Narragansets, who sometimes are found prowling about, what we
speak of in the family. Father has determined to join Uncle Benjamin’s company. We hear that as many
as two thousand men have been raised in Massachusetts to fight this terrible sachem Philip. Mother after
much fearful anxiety has submitted to the will of the Lord, whose strong right arm has gotten us the
victory in many sore straits in the past. Mother has counseled Father about many things, and when Father
said that women knew naught about such matters she told him how Capt. Underhill’s wife saved him in
his expedition against the Block Islanders, in 1636, when our country had more straits to pass through
than even now when Philip is breathing out threatenings and slaughter.
March 5. A very disgraceful thing has happened in our meeting, and much scandel hath been caused.
Hannah Smith is married with her husband’s brother, and it is declared null by the court of assistants and
she hath been commanded not to entertain him further; and she did appear before the congregation on
lecture day and make a full confession. A lesson this is to all young women, Mother says, not to act
hastily or allow our minds to wander into by or forbidden ways.
March 12. Although it has been pointed out to me that in times of danger I ought not to be merry, I could
not help laughing at the periwig of Elder Jones, which had gone awry. The periwig has been greatly
censured as encouraging worldly fashions, not suitable to the wearing of a minister of the gospel, and it
has been preached about by Mr. Mather and many think he is not severe enough in the matter, but rather
doth find excuse for it on account of health.
March 16. At afternoon discourse on “I am afraid of thy judgments” Mr. Moody prayed an hour, sung the
Fifty-first psalm.
March 20. This day had a private fast. Mr. Willard spoke to the second commandment. Mr. Elliot prayed.
While we were ceasing for half an hour, I saw Samuel Checkly and smiled; this was not the time to trifle,
and I repented, especially as he looked at me so many times after that I found my mind wandering from
the psalm. And afterwards when the Biskets, Beer, Cider and Wine were distributed he whispered to me
that he would rather serve me than the elders, which was a wicked thing to say, and I felt myself to blame.
April 2. As Nathaniel Southworth was crossing Nunaquohqet Neck brook he saw several Indians who
immediately disappeared. He thought they were Narragansetts.
April 5. There cometh sad news from Plymouth. William Clark left his garrison house on Eel river with
every man to attend Sunday morning service. They left the gate of the garrison open. Totoson and his
savages rushed in and killed Mistress Clark and ten other women and children. One boy was not quite
dead, and the doctors have mended his skull with a piece of silver. All this happened on March 22nd,
almost at the time that Mr. Southworth saw the Indians at Nunaquohqet Neck. Mother and father would
fain send me to Aunt Mehitable in Boston for safety. But surely I am none too good to share the fate of
my dear mother: and my faith in God sustains me, as surely as does my dependence upon my Uncle
Benjamin Church, who hath great skill in Indian fighting and is a mighty warrior before the Lord.
June 1. Stephen hath gotten a letter to us by the hand of a friendly Indian, in which he tells us of a burning
of a part of Plymouth in May: but, through the blessing of God, none of the people were hurt. Uncle
Benjamin hath been made Captain, though they were so stingy with him it maketh it hard to fight.
June 12. Not a day passeth but something maketh our heart faint within us. Yesterday George, our faithful
Indian, while laying a stone wall in the south pasture, saw two strange Indians skulking through the
swamp.
June 19. My heart longeth sore for the ocean, and all day am I weary of staying in the house. The wind
blows from the South. Last night I heard the surf rushing up on the shingle, and I can no longer wander
among the rocks for fear. No letter cometh from Aunt Mehitable, and Boston may be burned ere this.
Samuel Checkly hath given in his testimony, hath witnessed a good confession, and become a Freeman;
when I beg Stephen to unite with God’s people, he doth always say, that the great Miles Standish was not
a member, and cared not to go to meeting on the Lord’s day: yet he subdued our enemies, laid out our
goodly roads, and everybody had respect for him. It is surely hard to understand these things.
June 30. Jane Almy’s baby died of fits this morning.
August 10. Captain Church, for so I must call him, though he be my uncle, for he is now a great man, hath
made friends with the Saconet Indians, though he came nigh to losing his life when he went into their
camp, and hath gone with twenty-two friendly Indians and eighteen white men on the trail of the
Narragansetts. Jabez Rowland and Nathaniel Southworth have gone with him. The same love that the
noble Captain hath roused in us he seemeth ever to find, even among the Indians, and though they be
hostile and deceitful they go with him.
August 24, 1676. Great and glorious news have come. The wily Philip hath been killed. Jacob Cook
missed him, but a Saconet Indian named Alderman shot him, so that he bounded into the air and fell with
his face in the mire. Thus doth the Lord deliver us from our enemies. Captain Church called him, “a
doleful dirty beast,” so ill-favored and filthy was he, and yet, if it be not a sin, I can but feel pity for this
miserable wretch, who hath committed so many crimes. Father prayed an hour last night, after he had read
Exodus Seventeen where it is written how Amalek fought with the People of God in Rephidim: “And
Moses said unto Joshua, Choose us out men and go out and fight with Amalek. To-morrow I will stand on
the top of the hill, with the rod of God in mine hand.” So did God lead Captain Church in the hill called
Mount Hope, where Philip was wont to stay.
September 15. There is not hope that Uncle Benjamin will return to his new house here in Saconet; for
Anawan, Philip’s captain, hath been surprised, and has surrendered with all his band. Aunt Alice hath
suffered much, and longs for his presence: for though he waits not to strike when it be necessary, he is a
tenderhearted, peaceful man, and loveth his home.
October 2. Mistress Pabodie came to see us to-day. She hath had news of her father and her mother, John
and Priscilla Alden, that by the first sloop they shall come from Duxbury to visit her. To-day I plucked
some yellow and purple flowers, and have opened the windows in the fore-room; I can but rejoice and be
glad. Samuel Checkly, coming through the swamp at the same time, did point out the very place where
Awa Saunks, the Sachem squaw, was found, by Uncle Benjamin, dancing, and in a great sweat, when he
got the upper hand of Philip’s men, who had come from Merry Mount to gain her to their cause. Samuel
would fain have brought my flowers for me, but that seemed to me not maidenly or proper to allow, so he
returned by the way he came...
October 6. There is much talk about Philip’s son, a boy of nine years, who was taken prisoner with his
mother. They know not what to do with him. The ministers are bitter against him and would have him
sold into slavery or even worse. How can so tender a child be held accountable? But perhaps it is a sin to
feel this.
November 1. Father has bought two Indians for farm labor and paid for them two fathoms of wampum.
January 2. The weather is bitter cold. Went to meeting this Lord’s-Day morning, and listened to a
discourse by Elder Increase Mather from Zephaniah, iii, 7: “I said, Surely thou wilt fear me, thou wilt
receive correction: so her dwelling should not be cut off, according to all that I have appointed concerning
her: but they rose early and corrupted all their doings.” I shed many bitter tears over my sins. I fear that I
shall go to hell for all my corrupt doings. Aunt Mehitable bade me dry my eyes and fast all day tomorrow, saying the Lord would have mercy on me, for he would not allow the daughter of my good
mother to be lost. Oh ! what becomes of those girls who have not good mothers ?
January 14. An inflammation of the throat was cured by taking the inside of a swallow’s nest, stamped
and applied to the throat externally.
January 30. I saw on the street today a man standing in the pillory, for counterfeiting a lease and making
false bargains. I was fain to look another way.
February 3. Went to the meeting house, but could not sit with Uncle John, because he had been voted to
the first seat, while Aunt Mehitable was voted into the third. This seems to me not according to justice,
but Aunt Mehitable bade me consider the judgment of the Elders and the tithing-man as above mine own.
The pews are larger than I ever saw, being square with balustrades around them. A chair in the centre for
the aged. One corner pew was lifted high above the stairs almost to the ceiling, and was sat in by the
blacks.
March 4. Through all my life have I never seen such array of fashion and splendor as I have seen here in
Boston. Silken hoods, scarlet petticoats, with silver lace, white sarconett plaited gowns, bone lace and
silken scarfs. The men with periwigs, ruffles and ribbons.
April 2. Mother had writ that Samuel Checkly’s mother was buried in March. There was a fine funeral,
but she says she had tasted better funeral meats. The napkins were good but sadly stained by the saffron in
the meat. Poor Samuel! I like not this habit of putting saffron in the meat. My fingers were stained all the
week after Mistress Adam’s funeral.
May 7. There hath been a sad case. A woman and man hath been fined for playing cards. They lived very
near the meeting house. The fine was five pounds, but Uncle John says it should be more for so grave a
matter.
June 6. There is to be a training and I am to go. I slept not last night for thinking of it. This is a sin. I
repented at morning prayers with many tears. Why am I so prone to sin? The devil goeth about like a
roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.
June 7. There was a mort of men at the training. Foot and artillary. Elder Mather prayed at the beginning
and at the end. The streets were full of people, and all seemed merry.
Source: Adeline E. H. Slicer, “A Puritan Maiden’s Diary,” New England Magazine 17 (September, 1884), 20–24.
DOCUMENT 20
Cotton Mather wrote voluminously about matters spiritual, mystical, and diabolical in late seventeenthcentury colonial New England. Do his writings indicate whether or not women might be more or less
susceptible to the black arts? What type of persons might be more likely accused of these crimes?
Wonders of the Invisible World, by Cotton Mather (1693)
The New Englanders are a people of God settled in those, which were once the devil's territories; and it
may easily be supposed that the devil was exceedingly disturbed, when he perceived such a people here
accomplishing the promise of old made unto our blessed Jesus, that He should have the utmost parts of
the earth for His possession. There was not a greater uproar among the Ephesians, when the Gospel was
first brought among them, than there was among the powers of the air (after whom those Ephesians
walked) when first the silver trumpets of the Gospel here made the joyful sound. The devil thus irritated,
immediately tried all sorts of methods to overturn this poor plantation: and so much of the church, as was
fled into this wilderness, immediately found the serpent cast out of his mouth a flood for the carrying of it
away. I believe that never were more satanical devices used for the unsettling of any people under the sun,
than what have been employed for the extirpation of the vine which God has here planted, casting out the
heathen, and preparing a room before it, and causing it to take deep root, and fill the land, so that it sent
its boughs unto the Atlantic Sea eastward, and its branches unto the Connecticut River westward, and the
hills were covered with a shadow thereof. But all those attempts of hell have hitherto been abortive, many
an Ebenezer has been erected unto the praise of God, by his poor people here; and having obtained help
from God, we continue to this day. Wherefore the devil is now making one attempt more upon us; an
attempt more difficult, more surprising, more snarled with unintelligible circumstances than any that we
have hitherto encountered; an attempt so critical, that if we get well through, we shall soon enjoy halcyon
days with all the vultures of hell trodden under our feet. He has wanted his incarnate legions to persecute
us, as the people of God have in the other hemisphere been persecuted: he has therefore drawn forth his
more spiritual ones to make an attack upon us. We have been advised by some credible Christians yet
alive, that a malefactor, accused of witchcraft as well as murder, and executed in this place more than
forty years ago, did then give notice of an horrible plot against the country by witchcraft, and a foundation
of witchcraft then laid, which if it were not seasonably discovered, would probably blow up, and pull
down all the churches in the country. And we have now with horror seen the discovery of such a
witchcraft! An army of devils is horribly broke in upon the place which is the center, and after a sort, the
firstborn of our English settlements: and the houses of the good people there are filled with doleful
shrieks of their children and servants, tormented by invisible hands, with tortures altogether preternatural.
After the mischiefs there endeavored, and since in part conquered, the terrible plague of evil angels hath
made its progress into some other places, where other persons have been in like manner diabolically
handled. These our poor afflicted neighbors, quickly after they become infected and infested with these
demons, arrive to a capacity of discerning those which they conceive the shapes of their troublers; and
notwithstanding the great and just suspicion that the demons might impose the shapes of innocent persons
in their spectral exhibitions upon the sufferers (which may perhaps prove no small part of the witch-plot
in the issue), yet many of the persons thus represented, being examined, several of them have been
convicted of a very damnable witchcraft: yea, more than one twenty have confessed, that they have signed
unto a book, which the devil showed them, and engaged in his hellish design of bewitching and ruining
our land. We know not, at least I know not, how far the delusions of Satan may be interwoven into some
circumstances of the confessions; but one would think all the rules of understanding human affairs are at
an end, if after so many most voluntary harmonious confessions, made by intelligent persons of all ages,
in sundry towns, at several times, we must not believe the main strokes wherein those confessions all
agree: especially when we have a thousand preternatural things every day before our eyes, wherein the
confessors do acknowledge their concernment, and give demonstration of their being so concerned. If the
devils now can strike the minds of men with any poisons of so fine a composition and operation, that
scores of innocent people shall unite, in confessions of a crime, which we see actually committed, it is a
thing prodigious, beyond the wonders of the former ages, and it threatens no less than a sort of a
dissolution upon the world. Now, by these confessions 'tis agreed that the Devil has made a dreadful knot
of witches in the country, and by the help of witches has dreadfully increased that knot: that these witches
have driven a trade of commissioning their confederate spirits to do all sorts of mischiefs to the neighbors,
whereupon there have ensued such mischievous consequences upon the bodies and estates of the
neighborhood, as could not otherwise be accounted for: yea, that at prodigious witch-meetings, the
wretches have proceeded so far as to concert and consult the methods of rooting out the Christian religion
from this country, and setting up instead of it perhaps a more gross diabolism than ever the world saw
before. And yet it will be a thing little short of miracle, if in so spread a business as this, the Devil should
not get in some of his juggles, to confound the discovery of all the rest.
...
But I shall no longer detain my reader from his expected entertainment, in a brief account of the trials
which have passed upon some of the malefactors lately executed at Salem, for the witchcrafts whereof
they stood convicted. For my own part, I was not present at any of them; nor ever had I any personal
prejudice at the persons thus brought upon the stage; much less at the surviving relations of those persons,
with and for whom I would be as hearty a mourner as any man living in the world: The Lord comfort
them! But having received a command so to do, I can do no other than shortly relate the chief matters of
fact, which occurred in the trials of some that were executed, in an abridgment collected out of the court
papers on this occasion put into my hands. You are to take the truth, just as it was; and the truth will hurt
no good man. There might have been more of these, if my book would not thereby have swollen too big;
and if some other worthy hands did not perhaps intend something further in these collections; for which
cause I have only singled out four or five, which may serve to illustrate the way of dealing, wherein
witchcrafts use to be concerned; and I report matters not as an advocate, but as an historian.
...
V. The Trial of Martha Carrier at The Court of Oyer and Terminer, Held by Adjournment at Salem,
August 2, 1692.
I. Martha Carrier was indicted for the bewitching certain persons, according to the form usual in such
cases, pleading not guilty to her indictment; there were first brought in a considerable number of the
bewitched persons who not only made the court sensible of an horrid witchcraft committed upon them,
but also deposed that it was Martha Carrier, or her shape, that grievously tormented them, by biting,
pricking, pinching and choking of them. It was further deposed that while this Carrier was on her
examination before the magistrates, the poor people were so tortured that every one expected their death
upon the very spot, but that upon the binding of Carrier they were eased. Moreover the look of Carrier
then laid the afflicted people for dead; and her touch, if her eye at the same time were off them, raised
them again: which things were also now seen upon her trial. And it was testified that upon the mention of
some having their necks twisted almost round, by the shape of this Carrier, she replied, "It's no matter
though their necks had been twisted quite off."
II. Before the trial of this prisoner, several of her own children had frankly and fully confessed not only
that they were witches themselves, but that this their mother had made them so. This confession they
made with great shows of repentance, and with much demonstration of truth. They related place, time,
occasion; they gave an account of journeys, meetings and mischiefs by them performed, and were very
credible in what they said. Nevertheless, this evidence was not produced against the prisoner at the bar,
inasmuch as there was other evidence enough to proceed upon.
III. Benjamin Abbot gave his testimony that last March was a twelvemonth, this Carrier was very angry
with him, upon laying out some land near her husband's: her expressions in this anger were that she would
stick as close to Abbot as the bark stuck to the tree; and that he should repent of it afore seven years came
to an end, so as Doctor Prescot should never cure him. These words were heard by others besides Abbot
himself; who also heard her say, she would hold his nose as close to the grindstone as ever it was held
since his name was Abbot. Presently after this, he was taken with a swelling in his foot, and then with a
pain in his side, and exceedingly tormented. It bred into a sore, which was lanced by Doctor Prescot, and
several gallons of corruption ran out of it. For six weeks it continued very bad, and then another sore bred
in the groin, which was also lanced by Doctor Prescot. Another sore than bred in his groin, which was
likewise cut, and put him to very great misery: he was brought unto death's door, and so remained until
Carrier was taken, and carried away by the constable, from which very day he began to mend, and so
grew better every day, and is well ever since.
Sarah Abbot also, his wife, testified that her husband was not only all this while afflicted in his body, but
also that strange, extraordinary and unaccountable calamities befell his cattle; their death being such as
they could guess at no natural reason for.
IV. Allin Toothaker testified that Richard, the son of Martha Carrier, having some difference with him,
pulled him down by the hair of the head. When he rose again he was going to strike at Richard Carrier but
fell down flat on his back to the ground, and had not power to stir hand or foot, until he told Carrier he
yielded; and then he saw the shape of Martha Carrier go off his breast.
This Toothaker had received a wound in the wars; and he now testified that Martha Carrier told him he
should never be cured. Just afore the apprehending of Carrier, he could thrust a knitting needle into his
wound four inches deep; but presently after her being seized, he was thoroughly healed.
He further testified that when Carrier and he some times were at variance, she would clap her hands at
him, and say he should get nothing by it; whereupon he several times lost his cattle, by strange deaths,
whereof no natural causes could be given.
V. John Rogger also testified that upon the threatening words of this malicious Carrier, his cattle would
be strangely bewitched; as was more particularly then described.
VI. Samuel Preston testified that about two years ago, having some difference with Martha Carrier, he
lost a cow in a strange, preternatural, unusual manner; and about a month after this, the said Carrier,
having again some difference with him, she told him he had lately lost a cow, and it should not be long
before he lost another; which accordingly came to pass; for he had a thriving and well-kept cow, which
without any known cause quickly fell down and died.
VII. Phebe Chandler testified that about a fortnight before the apprehension of Martha Carrier, on a
Lordsday, while the Psalm was singing in the Church, this Carrier then took her by the shoulder and
shaking her, asked her, where she lived: she made her no answer, although as Carrier, who lived next door
to her father's house, could not in reason but know who she was. Quickly after this, as she was at several
times crossing the fields, she heard a voice, that she took to be Martha Carrier's, and it seemed as if it was
over her head. The voice told her she should within two or three days be poisoned. Accordingly, within
such a little time, one half of her right hand became greatly swollen and very painful; as also part of her
face: whereof she can give no account how it came. It continued very bad for some days; and several
times since she has had a great pain in her breast; and been so seized on her legs that she has hardly been
able to go. She added that lately, going well to the house of God, Richard, the son of Martha Carrier,
looked very earnestly upon her, and immediately her hand, which had formerly been poisoned, as is
abovesaid, began to pain her greatly, and she had a strange burning at her stomach; but was then struck
deaf, so that she could not hear any of the prayer, or singing, till the two or three last words of the Psalm.
VIII. One Foster, who confessed her own share in the witchcraft for which the prisoner stood indicted,
affirmed that she had seen the prisoner at some of their witch-meetings, and that it was this Carrier, who
perusaded her to be a witch. She confessed that the Devil carried them on a pole to a witch-meeting; but
the pole broke, and she hanging about Carrier's neck, they both fell down, and she then received an hurt
by the fall, whereof she was not at this very time recovered.
IX. One Lacy, who likewise confessed her share in this witchcraft, now testified, that she and the prisoner
were once bodily present at a witch-meeting in Salem Village; and that she knew the prisoner to be a
witch, and to have been at a diabolical sacrament, and that the prisoner was the undoing of her and her
children by enticing them into the snare of the devil.
X. Another Lacy, who also confessed her share in this witchcraft, now testified, that the prisoner was at
the witch-meeting, in Salem Village, where they had bread and wine administered unto them.
XI. In the time of this prisoner's trial, one Susanna Sheldon in open court had her hands unaccountably
tied together with a wheel-band so fast that without cutting it, it could not be loosed: it was done by a
specter; and the sufferer affirmed it was the prisoner's.
Memorandum. This rampant hag, Martha Carrier, was a person of whom the confessions of the witches,
and of her own children among the rest, agreed that the devil had promised her she should be Queen of
Hebrews.
DOCUMENT 21
In Colonial America, it was not at all uncommon for men and women to become widowers and widows. It
was also common for bereaved spouses to remarry, and laws were drawn up to provide legal and
economic protection for widows and their minor children. What does the following petition made by
Elizabeth Cruckshank in Pennsylvania in 1699 tell us about the hardships these individuals faced and
about the distribution of properties to children of deceased parents?
[Eliz[abeth]. Cruckshank's pe[ti]tion.]
Upon Reading the petion of Eliz. (Late Cruikshank, now) Hall, ex[ecut]rix. of ye Last will &
testam[en]t of Alex[ande]r Cruikshank, dec[eas]ed, by his last will & testam[en]t, did bequeath to his
daughter Hesther, a negro girle Hannah, & the rest of his real & p[er]sonal estate to yo[u]r per's[on]., to be
managed by her till her children, in number five, should come to the age of 21, & yn [then] to be equallie
divided among ym [them], & yo[u]r per[son]. to have her thirds att her disposal, & did make her
ex[ecut]rix yrof [thereof], as by said will appears ; and qras [whereas], his real estate being a plant[ati]on
att passyunk, was apprized att 170£, & his p[er]sonal att 480lb. 17s. 10d, in all 550£ 17s. 10d,, as p.
inventarie appears, and yt shee hath lost by death of negroes & cattle, & paid & disbursed towards paying
of debts & educa[ti]on, & maintainance of her children, 308lb. 9d, (as p. her acco[un]ts exhibited to &
proved before ye Go’[vernor], in presence of Tho. & Eliz, two of her children, now of age, appears,) who
pronounced for the validitie of her acco[un]ts, & ordered yor per. to make distribution to ym [them]of yr
[their] proportions of the remander of ye s[ai]d clear estate, to ball[ance] 242l 17s 1d, qrof [whereof] yo'
per. is to have one third, is 80l 19s, as p. will, & ye s[ai]d five children are to have the remainder, w[hi]ch
is 161l 18s equallie among ym [them], as they come to age, w[hi]ch is 32l 7 7d to each one of them, if ye
s[ai]d planta[ti]on sell for what it's apprized att. And qras [whereas], by ye Law of this province about
Testats & Intestats estates, It is provided yt [that] after all debts are p[ai]d the surplusage or residue (if
anie be) of the testator's p[er]sonal estate, shall be by the exe[cuto]rs divided according to yr Last wills, ye
widows having a third of yr [their] p[er]sonal estates. And qrby [thereby] its also provided, yt [that] where
ye s[ai]d testators or intestators p[er]sonal estates are sufficient to pay all yr [their] debts, yt [that] their real
estates shall be invested & remain as their Last will & testam[en]ts devise ye same, the widow having a 3 r
p[ar]t yrof [thereof].
And qras [whereas], ye s[ai]d] p[er]sonal estate is not sufficient both to pay ye said Thomas nor
Hester yr [their] propor[ti]ons of ye s[ai]d clear estate, nor to pay her, the s[ai]d Eliz. Her thirds yrof
[thereof], nor to bring up, educate & maintain the other 3 young[e]r children, nor to keep in repair, uphold
& save from ruine & destruction ye s[ai]d planta[ti]on, nor to improve it to all yr [their] advantages, & that
ye said Thomas is neither willing nor able to p[ur]chass ye s[ai]d planta[ti]on, outt of which to pay
himself, the other children & yor per’s. thirds; but is most willing ye same should be sold for ye purposes
aforesaid, w[hi]ch cannot be done w[i]t[h]out the order of this board; And yrfor [therefore], Requesting ye
Go’[vernor] & Council to permit & allow her, ye per, to sell & dispose of ye s[ai]d] planta[ti]on, towards
the defraying of ye s[ai]d] proportions, & of yo[u]r pers[onal] thirds, Her owne support, & the
maintainance & education of her other 3 children, & the better Improvement of ye remainder to yr [their]
advantage.
The L[ieutenan]t. Governor & Council appointed W[illia]m Biles & Caleb pusseyy to inspect into
& examin the pers. Acco[un]ts, & the truth of the allega[ti]ons in ye s[ai]d] peti[ti]on men[ti]oned, & to
make report yrof [thereof] to this board tomorrow morning.
…
16th May, 1699.
Att a Council Held att Philadelphia Die Martis, 16th May, 1699.
WILLIAM MARKHAM, esq[uire]. Leivt. [Lieutenant] Governor, et ysdem ut antea, &c.
W[illia]m Biles & Caleb pussey, to whom the examina[ti]on of the pet[it]ion & acco[un]t of Eliz.
Cruikshank was Comitted, made report, that they had viewed & examined the same, & her stated
acco[un]ts with the vouchers yrof [thereof], & found yt [that] shee hath Lost much by the death of negroes
& cattle, & been at great charge in maintaining & bringing (p. 527) // up her children, & has paid
considerable debts ; and that there is yrfor [therefore] a necessitie to sell ye plantation, yrin [therein]
men[ti]oned.
Resolved & Ordered, that the s[ai]d Eliz (Late Cruikshank, now) Hall & her husband, Richard
Hall, with the consent of Thomas Cruikshank, her eldest son, be allowed & permitted, & is hereby, by yt
[that] Go'[vernor] & Council, allowed, permitted, authorized & impowered, to make sale & conveyance
to anie p[er]sons whatsoever, of the within planta[ti]on att passyunk, with its houses & all it apptenances,
Containing _____ acres of Land, & _____ acres of Marsh, & to ym [them], yr [their] heirs & assigns
forever, towards the defraying the propor[ti]ons in the s[ai]d pet[it]ion men[ti]oned, & of the pers[onal].
thirds, her own support, & the maintainance & educa[ti]on of her other 3 children, & the better
improvement of the Remainder, to their advantage, according to ye Laws & customs of ye s[ai]d province.
To hold to ye s[ai]d purchasers & yr [their] heirs & assigns, in fee simple & estate of inheritance forever,
&c. (p. 528)
DOCUMENT 22
What do the following excerpts from the family records left by Samuel Sewall in his commonplace book
and diary reveal about the the role of women in birthing customs in Colonial Massachusetts, 1702-1704?
(P.87.) John Sewall, the son of Samuel and Hallah S. was Born Apr. 2, 1677. Was Baptized Ap.
8 in the South-Meeting-House by the Reverend Mr. Thomas Thacher. H held the child when Baptized.
Dyed Sept. 11, 1678, and lyeth buried in the New burying place, on the South side of the grave of his
great Grandfather, Mr. Robert Hull.
June 11, 1678. Samuel Sewall, second son of S. and Han. S. was Born. Baptized p. Mr. Thomas
Thacher June 16. I held him up.
Feb. 3, 1679. Hanah Sewall was Born, just after a great snow. Baptized Feb. 8 in the NewMeeting-House, p. Mr. Samuel Willard. held her up. Mr. Thacher dyed in the Autumn, 1678.
May, 21, 1680. I carry Sam. to Newbury, where his Grandmother nurses him till May 81, to see if
change of air would help him against Convulsions; which hope it did, for hath had none there, nor since
his coming home.
1681. Thursday, December 29th, Elisabeth, Daughter of Samll. and Hanah Sewall is Born. N.
Two of the chief Gentlewomen in Town dyed next Friday night, viz. Mrs. Mary Davis and Mrs. Eliza.
Sargent.
Sabbath-day, January 1, 1681. Elisabeth is Baptized p. Mr. Samuel Willard, I holding her up.
Elisabeth Weeden was Midwife to my Wife bringing forth the four mentioned chilldren.... (p. 18)
...
Jany . 2, 1701/2. My Wife had some thoughts the Time of her Travail might be come, before she
went to bed: But it went over. Between 4 and 5 m. I go to prayer, Rise, make a Fire, call Mrs. Ellis,
Hawkins, Mary Hawkins calls Mid wife Greenlef. I go to Mr. Willard and desire him to call God. The
Women call me into chamber, and I pray there. Jno Barnard comes to me for Money: I desire him to
acquaint Mr. Cotton Mather, and Father.
Jany . 2. 1701/2. My Wife is well brought to Bed of a Daughter just about two p.m., a very cold
day: Was got into Bed without a fainting Fit.
Sabbath-day night my wife is very ill and something delirious. Pulse swift and high. I call Mr.
Oakes about Two aclock or before. Grows a bit better.
Jany . 6. 1701/2. Nurse Hill watch'd last night. Wife had a comfortable night.
Vol. II. (p. 180) //
MEMORANDUM.
Sarah Sewall was born Novr 21. 1694. Baptised p Mr. WIllard Novr 25.Died Decr 23. Was buried
xr. 25. 1696. A dear amiable Son of Samuel Sewall and Hanah his wife, was Still-born May, 21. 1696.
Judith Sewall was born upon Friday, Jany 2. at two in the Afternoon, Hanah Greenlef Midwife,
Judd Nurse. Lords-Day, Jany . 4. p.m., Was baptised by the Reverd Mr. Ebenezer Pemberton. It being his
Turn: because The Revd Mr. Willard administered the Lord's super just before. So is a New Midwife, and
a New Baptiser. What through my wives many illnesses, more than ordinary, her fall upon the stairs about
5 weeks before; from which time she kept her chamber; her thoughtfullness between whiles whether she
were with child or no; her Fears what the issue would be, and the misgiving of our Unbelieving hearts,
GOD hath been wonderfully Mercifull to us in her comfortable Delivery; which I desire to have
Recorded.
Note. This is the Thirteenth Child that I have offered up to God in Baptisme; my wife having
born me Seven Sons and Seven Daughters. I have named this little Daughter Judith, in Remembrance of
her honoured and beloved Grandmother Mrs. Judith Hull. And it may be my dear wife may now leave off
bearing. For my former Children, See p. 124. 125 [Vol. I: p. 383-384]....
Jany. 8. 1701/2 Mr. Incr. Mather preaches the Lecture from Gen. 18. 24. Doct. The Wicked many
times fare the better for the sake of the Godly, Hopes for England and N.E. because many Righteous ones
in both. About 4. Alice Macdonel is buried. Mr. Lynde and I were there as Overseers of the poor. This
day agreed with Nurse Randal to suckle Judith.
Friday Jany. 9. 1701/2 Buy a Wicker Cradle for Judith of Tho Hunt; which cost Sixteen Shillings.
(p. 181) //
My wife puts on her Cloaths, and sits up in the Bed.
Jany 10. My Wife gets on to the Pallat Bed in her Cloaths, and there keeps, While Linen Curtains
are put up within the Serge; and is refresh'd by it.
Jany 12. 1701/2 The Harbour is open acain, and pretty well freed from the Ice. Jany 13 m. I pray'd
earnestly by my self and in the family for a Nurse; Went and expostulated with Mr. Hill about his
daughters failing me; in the chamber: In the mean time, one of his family went, and call'd the Nurse and, I
brought her home with me; which was beyond my expectation. For Mr. Jesse huff'd and ding'd, and said
he would lock her up, and she should not come. I sent not for her, So I hope twas an Answer of Prayer.
Friday, Jany 16. My Wife Treats her Midwife and Women: Had a good Dinner, Boil'd Pork, Beef,
Fowls; very good Rost Beef, Turkey-Pye, Tarts. Madam Usher carve'd Mrs. Hanah Greenlef; Ellis,
Cowell, Wheeler, Johnson, and her daughter Cole, Mrs. Hill our Nurses Mother, Nurse Johnson, Hill,
Hawkins, Mrs. Goose, Deming Green, Smith, Hatch, Blin. Comfortable, moderat wether: and with a good
fire in the Stove warm'd the Room.
Jany. 17. We hear that Mrs. Sam. Brown of Salem is dead, and the first child she had. She
earnestly desired a child, having been a pretty while married. Col. Turneris sister.... (p. 182)
...
Second-Day; Jany . 24. 1703/4 I paid Capt. Belchar £8-15-0. Took 24s in my pocket, and gave my Wife
the rest of my cash £4.3-8, and tell her she shall now keep the Cash; if I want I will borrow of her. She
has a better faculty than I at managing Affairs: I will assist her; and will endeavour to live upon my
Salary; will see what it will doe. The Lord give his Blessing.
Jany 31. Second day of the week, about four hours before day, my Daughter Hirst was delivered
of a Living lively Daughter. Her mother went to her after the forenoon exercise Jany 30. Mother Hirst
came the evening before. We have an Answer of Peace to our many Prayers. Laus Deo. Mrs. Wakefield
was Midwife. Madam Usher, Pemberton, Hubbard, Welsteed, Nurse Johnson assisted. Nurse is from
Salem. (p. 224)
...
Source: http://faculty.gordon.edu/hu/bi/ted_hildebrandt/NEReligiousHistory/Sewall-Diary1674-1729/Sewall-Vol2-1699-1714.pdf
DOCUMENT 23
When Sarah Kemble Knight (1666-1727) undertook a journey from Boston, Massachusetts to New-Haven,
Connecticut by herself in 1704, she was often at pains to find male guardians to accompany her. What
were some of the typical reactions of other women she encountered?
MONDAY, Octb'r. ye second, 1704.–About three o'clock afternoon, I begun my Journey from Boston to
New-Haven; being about two Hundred Mile. My Kinsman, Capt. Robert Luist, waited on me as farr as
Dedham, where I was to meet ye Western post.
I visitted the Reverd. Mr. Belcher, ye Minister of ye town, and tarried there till evening, in hopes ye post
would come along. But he not coming, I resolved to go to Billingses where he used to lodg, being 12
miles further. But being ignorant of the way, Madm Billings, seing no persuasions of her good spouses or
hers could prevail with me to Lodg there that night, Very kindly went wyth me to ye Tavern, where I
hoped to get my guide, And desired the Hostess to inquire of her guests whether any of them would go
with mee. But they being tyed by the Lipps to a pewter engine, scarcely allowed themselves time to say
what clownish.
... Peices of eight, I told her no, I would not be accessary to such extortion.
Then John shan't go, sais shee. No, indeed, shan't hee; And held forth at that rate a long time, that I began
to fear I was got among the Quaking tribe, beleeving not a Limbertong'd sister among them could out do
Madm. Hostes..
Upon this, to my no small surprise, son John arrose, and gravely demanded what I would give him to go
with me? Give you, sais I, are you John? Yes, says he, for want of a Better; And behold! this John look't
as old as my Host, and perhaps had bin a man in the last Century. Well, Mr. John, sais I, make your
demands. Why, half a pss. of eight and a dram, sais John. I agreed, and gave him a Dram (now) in hand to
bind the bargain.
My hostess catechis'd John for going so cheep, saying his poor wife would break her heart.
...
His shade on his Hors resembled a Globe on a Gate post. His habitt, Hors and furniture, its looks and
goings Incomparably answered the rest.
Thus jogging on with an easy pace, my Guide telling mee it was dangero's to Ride hard in the Night,
(whch his horse had the sence to avoid,) Hee entertained me with the Adventurs he had passed by late
Rideing, and eminent Dangers he had escaped, so that, Remembring the Hero's in Parismus and the
Knight of the Oracle, I didn't know but I had mett wth a Prince disguis'd.
When we had Ridd about an how'r, wee come into a thick swamp, wch. by Reason of a great fogg, very
much startled mee, it being now very Dark. But nothing dismay'd John: Hee had encountered a thousand
and a thousand such Swamps, having a Universall Knowledge in the woods; and readily Answered all my
inquiries wch. were not a few.
In about an how'r, or something more, after we left the Swamp, we come to Billinges, where I was to
Lodg. My Guide dismounted and very Complasantly help't me down and shewd the door, signing to me
Wth his hand to Go in; wch I Gladly did–But had not gone many steps into the Room, ere I was
Interogated by a young Lady I understood afterwards was the Eldest daughter of the family, with these, or
words to this purpose, (viz.) Law for mee–what in the world brings You here at this time a night?–I never
see a woman on the Rode so Dreadfull late, in all the days of my versall life. Who are You? Where are
You going? I'me star'd out of my witts–with much now of the same Kind. I stood aghast, Prepareing to
reply, when in comes my Guide–to him Madam turn'd, Roreing out: Lawfull heart, John, is it You?–how
de do! Where in the world are you going with this woman? Who is she? John made no Ansr. but sat down
in the corner, fumblèd out his black Junk,' and saluted that instead of Debb; she then turned agen to mee
and fell anew into her silly questions, without asking me to sitt down.
I told her shee treated me very Rudely, and I did not think it my duty to answer her unmannerly
Questions. But to get ridd of them, I told her I come there to have the post's company with me to-morrow
on my Journey, & c. Miss star'd awhile, drew a chair, bid me sitt, And then run up stairs and putts on two
or three Rings, (or else I had not seen them before,) and returning, sett herself just before me, showing the
way to Reding, that I might see her Ornaments, perhaps to gain the more respect. But her Granam's new
Rung s sow, had it appeared, would affected me as much. I paid honest John wth money and dram
according to contract, and Dismist him, and pray'd Miss to shew me where I must Lodg. Shee conducted
me to a parlour in a little back Lento, wch was almost fill'd wth the bedsted, wch was so high that I was
forced to climb on a chair to gitt up to ye wretched b,.d that lay on it; on wch having Stretcht my tired
Limbs, and lay'd my head on a Sad-colourd pillow, I began to think on the transactions of ye past day.
Tuesday, October ye third, about 8 in the morning, I with the Post proceeded forward without observing
any thing remarkable; And about two, on, Arrived at the Post's second stage, where the western Post mett
him and exchanged Letters. Here, having called for something to eat, ye woman bro't in a Twisted thing
like a cable, but something whiter; and laying it on the bord, tugg'd for life to bring it into a capacity to
spread; wch having wth great pains accomplished, shee serv'd in a dish of Pork and Cabage, I suppose the
remains of Dinner. The sause was of a deep Purple, wch I tho't was boil'd in her dye Kettle; the bread was
Indian, and every thing on the Table service Agreeable to these. I, being hungry, gott a little down; but
my stomach was soon cloy'd, and what cabbage I swallowed serv'd me for a Cudd the whole day after.
Having here discharged the Ordnary for self and Guide; (as I understood was the custom,) About Three
afternoon went on with my Third Guide, who Rode very hard; and having crossed Providence Ferry, we
come to a River wch they Generally Ride thro'. But I dare not venture; so the Post got a Ladd and Cannoo
to carry me to tother side, and hee rid thro' and Led my hors. The Cannoo was very small and shallow, so
that when we were in she seem'd redy to take in water, which greatly terrified mee, and caused me to be
very circumspect, sitting with my hands fast on each side, my eyes stedy, not daring so much as to lodg
my tongue a hair's breadth more on one side of my mouth then tother, nor so much as think on Lott's wife,
for a wry thought would have oversett our wherey: But was soon put out of this pain, by feeling the
Cannoo on shore, wch I as soon almost saluted with my feet; and Rewarding my sculler, again mounted
and made the best of our way forwards. The Rode here was very even and ye day pleasant, it being now
near Sunsett. But the Post told mee we had neer t¢ miles to Ride to the next Stage, (where we were to
Lodg.) I askt him of the rest of the Rode, foreseeing wee must travail in the night. Hee told mee there was
a bad River we were to Ride thro', W6 was so very firce a hors could sometimes hardly stem it: But it was
but narrow, and wee should soon be over. I cannot express The concern of mind this relation sett me in:
no thoughts but those of the dang'ros River could entertain my Imagination, and they were as formidable
as varios, still Tormenting me with blackest Ideas of my Approaching fate–Sometimes seing my self
drowning, otherwhiles drowned, and at the best like a holy Sister just come out of a Spiritual Bath in
dripping Garments.
Now was the Glorious Luminary, wth his swift Coursers arrived at his Stage, leaving poor me wth the rest
of this part of the lower world in darkness, with which wee were soon Surrounded. The only Glimering
we now had was from the spangled Skies, Whose Imperfect Reflections rendered every Object
formidable. Each lifeless Trunk, with its shatter'd Limbs, appear'd an Armed Enymie; and every little
stump like a Ravenous devourer. Nor could I so much as discern my Guide, when at any distance, which
added to the terror.
Thus, absolutely lost in Thought, and dying with the very thoughts of drowning, I come up wth the post,
who I did not see till even with his Hors: he told mee he stopt for mee; and wee Rode on Very deliberatly
a few paces, when we entred a Thickett of Trees and Shrubbs, and I perceived by the Hors's going, we
were on the descent of a Hill, wch, as wee come neerer the bottom, 'twas totaly dark wth the Trees that
surrounded it. But I knew by the Going of the Hors wee had entred the water, wch my Guide told mee
was the hazzardos River he had told me off; and bee, Riding up close to my Side, Bid me not fearwe
should be over Imediatly. I now ralyed all the Courage I Was mistriss of, Knowing that I must either
Venture my fate of drowning, or be left like ye Children in the wood. So, as the Post bid me, I gave Reins
to my Nagg; and sitting as Stedy as just before in the Cannoo, in a few minutes got safe to the other side,
which bee told mee was the Narragansett country.
Here We found great difficulty in Travailing, the way being very narrow, and on each side the Trees and
bushes gave us very unpleasent welcomes wth their Branches and bow's, wch wee could not avoid, it
being so exceeding dark. My Guide, as before so now, putt on harder than I, wth my weary bones, could
follow; so left mee and the way beehind him. Now Returned my distressed aprehensions of the place
where I was: the dolesome woods, my Company next to none, Going I knew not whither, and
encompased wth Terrifying darkness; The least of which was enough to startle a more Masculine courage.
Added to which the Reflections, as in the afternoon of ye day that my Call was very Questionable, wch
till then I had not so Prudently as I ought considered. Now, coming to ye foot of a hill, I found great
difficulty in ascending; But being got to the Top, was there amply recompenced with the friendly
Appearance of the Kind Conductress of the night, Just then Advancing above the Horisontall Line. The
Raptures wch the Sight of that fair Planett produced in mee, caused mee, for the Moment, to forgett my
present wearyness and past toils; and Inspir'd me for most of the remaining way with very divirting tho'ts,
some of which, with the other Occurances of the day, I reserved to note down when I should come to my
Stage. My tho'ts on the sight of the moon were to this purpose:
Fair Cynthia, all the Homage that I may
Unto a Creature, unto thee I pay;
In Lonesome woods to meet so kind a guide,
To Mee's more worth than all the world beside.
Some Joy I felt just now, when safe got or'e
Yon Surly River to this Rugged shore,
Deeming Rough welcomes from these clownish Trees,
Better than Lodgings wth Nereidees.
Yet swelling fears surprise; all dark appears–
Nothing but Light can disipate those fears.
My fainting vitals can't lend strength to say,
But softly whisper, O I wish 'twere day.
The murmer hardly warma the Ambient air,
E' re thy Bright Aspect rescues from dispair:
Makes the old Hagg her sable mantle loose,
And a Bright joy do's through my Soul diffuse.
The Boistero's Trees now Lend a Passage Free,
And pleasent prospects thou giv'st light to see.
From hence wee kept on, with more ease yn before: the way being smooth and even, the night warm and
serene, and the Tall and thick Trees at a distance, especially wn the moon glar'd light through the
branches, fill'd my Imagination wth the pleasent delusion of a Sumpteous citty, fill'd wth famous
Buildings and churches, wth their spiring steeples, Balconies, Galleries and I know not what: Granduers
woh I had heard of, and wch the stories of foreign countries had given me the Idea of.
Here stood a Lofty church–there is a steeple,
And there the Grand Parade–O see the people!
That Famous Castle there, were I but nigh,
To see the mote and Bridg and walls so high–
They'r very fine! sais my deluded eye.
Being thus agreably entertained without a thou't of any thing but thoughts themselves, I on a suden was
Rous'd from these pleasing Imaginations, by the Post's sounding his horn, which assured mee hee was
arrived at the Stage, where we were to Lodg: and that musick was then most musickall and agreeable to
mee.
Being come to mr. Havens', I was very civilly Received, and courteously entertained, in a clean
comfortable House; and the Good woman was very active in helping off my Riding clothes, and then ask't
what I would eat. I told her I had some Chocolett, if shee would prepare it; which with the help of some
Milk, and a little clean brass Kettle, she soon effected to my satisfaction. I then betook me to my
Apartment, wch was a little Room parted from the Kitchen by a single bord partition; where, after I had
noted the Occurrances of the past day, I went to bed, which, tho' pretty hard, Yet neet and handsome. But
I could get no sleep, because of the Clamor of some the of Town tope-ers in next Room, Who were entred
into a strong debate concerning ya Signifycation of the name of their Country, (viz.) Narraganset. One
said it was named so by ya Indians, because there grew a Brier there, of a prodigious Highth and bigness,
the like hardly ever known, called by the Indians Narragansett; And quotes an Indian of so Barberous a
name for his Author, that I could not write it. His Antagonist Replyed no–It was from a Spring it had its
name, wch hee well knew where it was, which was extreem cold in summer, and as Hott as could be
imagined in the winter, which was much resorted too by the natives, and by them called Narragansett,
(Hott and Cold,) and that was the originall of their places name–with a thousand Impertinances not worth
notice, wch He utter'd with such a Roreing voice and Thundering blows with the fist of wickedness on the
Table, that it peirced my very head. I heartily fretted, and wish't 'um tongue tyed; but wth as little succes
as a freind of mine once, who was (as shee said) kept a whole night awake, on a Jorny, by a country Left.'
and a Sergent, Insigne and a Deacon, contriving how to bring a triangle into a Square. They kept calling
for tother Gill, wah while they were swallowing, was some Intermission; But presently, like Oyle to fire,
encreased the flame. I set my Candle on a Chest by the bed side, and setting up, fell to my old way of
composing my Resentments, in the following manner:
I ask thy Aid, O Potent Rum!.
To Charm these wrangling Topers Dum.
Thou hast their Giddy Brains possest–
The man confounded wth the Beast–
And I, poor I, can get no rest.
Intoxicate them with thy fumes:
O still their Tongues till morning comes!
And I know not but my wishes took effect, for the dispute soon ended wth 'tother Dram; and so Good
night!
Wedensday, Octobr 4th. About four in the morning, we set out for Kingston (for so was the Town called)
with a french Docter in our company. –lee and ye Post put on very furiously, so that I could not keep up
with them, only as now and then they'd stop till they see mee. This Rode was poorly furnished wth
accommodations for Travellers, so that we were forced to ride 22 miles by the post's account, but neerer
thirty by mine, before wee could bait so much as our Horses, wch I exceedingly complained of. But the
post encourag'd mee, by saying wee should be well accommodated anon at mr. Devil's, a few miles
further. But I questioned whether we ought to go to the Devil to be helpt out of affliction. However, like
the rest of Deluded souls that post to ye Infernal denn, Wee made all posible speed to this Devil's
Habitation; where alliting, in full assurance of good accommodation, wee were going in. But meeting his
two daughters, as I suposed twins, they so neerly resembled each other, both in features and habit, and
look't as old as the Divel himselfe, and quite as Ugly, We desired entertainm't, but could hardly get a
word out of 'um, till with our Importunity, telling them our necesity, & c. they call'd the old Sophister,
who was as sparing of his words as his daughters had bin, and no, or none, was the reply's bee made us to
our demands. Hee differed only in this from the old fellow in to'ther Country: bee let us depart. However,
I thought it proper to warn poor Travailers to endeavour to Avoid falling into circumstances like ours,
wch at our next Stage I sat down and did as followeth:
May all that dread the cruel feind of night .
Keep on, and not at this curs't Mansion light.
'Tis Hell; 'tis Hell! and Devills here do dwell:
Here dwells the Devill–surely this's Hell.
Nothing but Wants: a drop to cool yo'r
Tongue Cant be procur'd these cruel Feinds among.
Plenty of horrid Grins and looks sevear,
Hunger and thirst, But pitty's bannish'd here–
The Right hand keep, if Hell on Earth you fear!
Thus leaving this habitation of cruelty, we went forward; and arriving at an Ordinary about two mile
further, found tollerable accommodation. But our Hostes, being a pretty full mouth'd old creature,
entertain'd our fellow travailer, ye french Docter, wth Inumirable complaints of her bodily infirmities; and
whispered to him so lou'd, that all ye House had as full a hearing as bee: which was very divirting to ye
company, (of which there was a great many,) as one might see by their sneering. But poor weary I slipt
out to enter my mind in my Jornal, and left my Great Landly with her Talkative Guests to themselves.
From hence we proceeded (about ten forenoon) through the Narragansett country, pretty Leisurely; and
about one afternoon come to Paukataug River, wch was about two hundred paces over, and now very
high, and no way over to to'ther side but this. I darid not venture to Ride thro, my courage at best in such
cases but small, And now at the Lowest Ebb, by reason of my weary, very weary, hungry and uneasy
Circumstances. So takeing leave of my company, tho' wth no little Reluctance, that I could not proceed
wth them on my Jorny, Stop at a little cottage just by the River, to wait the Waters falling, web the old
man that lived there said would be in a little time, and he would conduct me safe over. This little Hutt was
one of the wretchedest I ever saw a habitation for human creatures. It was suported with shores enclosed
with Clapbords, laid on Lengthways, and so much asunder, that the Light come throu' every where; the
doore tyed on `Nch a cord in ye place of hinges; The floor the bear earth; no windows but such as the thin
covering afforded, nor any furniture but a Bedd wth a glass Bottle hanging at ye head on't; an earthan
cupp, a small pewter Bas on, A Bord wth sticks to stand on, instead of a table, and a block or two in ye
corner instead of chairs. The family were the old man, his wife and two Children; all and every part being
the picture of poverty. Notwithstanding both the Hutt and its Inhabitance were very clean and tydee: to
the crossing the Old Proverb, that bare walls make giddy bows-wifes.
I Blest myselfe that I was not one of this misserable crew; and the Impressions their wretchedness formed
in me caused mee on ye very Spott to say:
Tho' Ill at éase, A stranger and alone, .
All my fatigues shall not extort a grone.
These Indigents have hunger wth their ease;
Their best is worn behalfe then my disease.
Their Misirable butt wch Heat and Cold
Alternately without Repulse do hold;
Their Lodgings thyn and hard, their Indian fare,
The mean Apparel which the wretches wear,
And their ten thousand ills wch can't be told,
Makes nature er'e 'tis midle age'd look old.
When I reflect, my late fatigues do seem
Only a notion or forgotten Dreem.
I had scarce done thinking, when an Indian-like Animal come to the door, on a creature very much like
himselfe, in mien and feature, as well as Ragged cloathing; and having 'litt, makes an Awkerd Scratch
wth his Indian shoo, and a Nodd, situ on Ye block, fumbles out his black Junk,9 dipps it in ye Ashes, and
presents it piping hott to his muscheeto's, and fell to sucking like a calf, without speaking, for near a
quarter of an bower. At length the old man said how do's Sarah do? who I understood was the wretches
wife, and Daughter to yr old man: he Replyed –as well as can be expected, & c. So I remembred the old
say, and suposed I knew Sarah's case. Butt bee being, as I understood, going over the River, as ugly as
hee was, I was glad to ask him to show me ye way to Saxtons, at Stoningtown; wch he promising, I
ventur'd over wth the old mans assistance; who having rewarded to content, with my Tatter tailed guide, I
Ridd on very slowly thro' Stoningtown, where the Rode was very Stony and uneven. I asked the fellow, as
we went, divers questions of the place and way, & c. I being arrived at my country Saxtons, at
Stonington, was very well accommodated both as to victuals and Lodging, the only Good of both I had
found since my setting out. Here I heard there was an old man and his Daughter to come that way, bound
to N. London; and being now destitute of a Guide, gladly waited for them, being in so good a harbour,
and accordingly, Thirsday, Octobr ye 5th, about 3 in the afternoon, I sat forward with neighbour Polly and
Jemima, a Girl about 18 Years old, who hee said he had been to fetch out of the Narragansetts, and said
they had Rode thirty miles that day, on a sory lean jade, wth only a Bagg under her for a pillion, which
the poor Girl often complain'd was very uneasy.
Wee made Good speed along, wch made poor Jemima make many a sow'r face, the mare being a very
hard trotter; and after many a hearty and bitter Oh, she at length Low'd out: Lawful Heart father! this bare
mare hurts mee Dingeely, I'me direfull sore I vow; with many words to that purpose: poor Child sais
Gaffer–she us't to serve your mother so. I don't care how mother us't to do, quoth Jemima, in a pasionate
tone. At which the old man Laught, and kik't his jade o' the side, which made her jolt ten times harder.
About seven that Evening, we come to New London Ferry: here, by reason of a very high wind, we mett
with great difficulty in getting over–the Boat tos't exceedingly, and our Horses capper'd at a very
surprizing Rate, and set us all in a fright; especially poor Jemima, who desired her father to say so jack to
the jade, to make her stand. But the careless parent, taking no notice of her repeated desires, She Rored
out in a Passionate manner: Pray suth father, Are you deaf? Say so Jack to the jade, I tell you. The Dutiful
Parent obey's; saying so Jack, so Jack, as gravely as if hee'd bin to saying Catechise after Young Miss,
who with her fright look't of all coullers in ye Rain Bow.
Being safely arrived at the house of Mrs. Prentices in N. London, I treated neighbour Polly and daughter
for their divirting company, and bid them farewell; and between nine and ten at night waited on the Revd
Mr. Gurdon Saltonstall, minister of the town, who kindly Invited me to Stay that night at his house, where
I was very handsomely and plentifully treated and Lodg'd; and made good the Great Character I had
before heard concerning him: viz. that hee was the most affable, courteous, Genero's and best of men.
Friday, Octor 6th. I got up very early, in Order to hire somebody to go with mee to New Haven, being in
Great parplexity at the thoughts of proceeding alone; which my most hospitable entertainer observing,
himselfe went, and soon return'd wth a young Gentleman of the town, who he could confide in to Go with
mee; and about eight this morning, Wth Mr. Joshua Wheeler my new Guide, takeing leave of this worthy
Gentleman, Wee advanced on towards Seabrook. The Rodes all along this way are very bad, Incumbred
wth Rocks and mountainos passages, wch were very disagreeable to my tired carcass; but we went on
with a moderate pace wel` made ye Journy more pleasent. But after about eight miles Rideing, in going
over a Bridge under wch the River Run very swift, my hors stumbled, and very narrowly 'scaped falling
over into the water; wch extreemly frightened mee. But through God's Goodness I met with no harm, and
mounting agen, in about half a miles Rideing, come to an ordinary, were well entertained by a woman of
about seventy and vantage, but of as Sound Intellectuals as one of seventeen. Shee entertain'd Mr.
Wheeler wth some passages of a Wedding awhile ago at a place hard by, the Brides-Groom being about
her Age or something above, Saying his Children was dredfully against their fathers marrying, wch shee
condemned them extreemly for.
From hence wee went pretty briskly forward, and arriv'd at Saybrook ferry about two of the Clock
afternoon; and crossing it, wee call'd at an Inn to Bait, (foreseeing we should not have such another
Opportunity till we come to Killingsworth.) Landlady come in, with her hair about her ears, and hands at
full pay scratching. Shee told us shee had some mutton wch shee would broil, wch I was glad to hear; But
I supose forgot to wash her scratchers; in a little time shee brot it in; but it being pickled, and my Guide
said it smelt strong of head sause, we left it, and pd sixpence a piece for our Dinners, wch was only smell.
So wee putt forward with all speed, and about seven at night come to Killingsworth, and were tollerably
well with Travillers fare, and Lodgd there that night.
Saturday, Oct. 7th, we sett out early in the Morning, and being something unaquainted wth the way,
having ask't it of some wee mett, they told us wee must Ride a mile or two and turne down a Lane on the
Right hand; and by their Direction wee Rode on but not Yet comeing to ye turning, we mett a Young
fellow and ask't him how farr it was to the Lane which turn'd down towards Guilford. Hee said wee must
Ride a little further, and turn down by the Corner of uncle Sams Lott. My Guide vented his Spleen at the
Lubber; and we soon after came into the Rhode, and keeping still on, without any thing further
Remarkabell, about two a clock afternoon we arrived at New Haven, where I was received with all
Posible Respects and civility. Here I discharged Mr. Wheeler with a reward to his satisfaction, and took
some time to rest after so long and toilsome a journey; And Inform'd myselfe of the manners and customs
of the place, and at the same time employed myselfe in the afair I went there upon.
...
Decr 6th. Being by this time well Recruited and rested after my Journy, my business lying unfinished by
some concerns at New York depending thereupon, my Kinsman, Mr. Thomas Trowbridge of New Haven,
must needs take a Journy there before it could be accomplished, I resolved to go there in company wth
him, and a man of the town wch I engaged to wait on me there. Accordingly, Dec. 6th we set out from
New Haven, and about 1 t same morning came to Stratford ferry; wch crossing, about two miles on the
other side Baited our horses and would have eat a morsell ourselves, But the Pumpkin and Indian mixt
Bred had such an Aspect, and the Bare-legg'd Punch so awkerd or rather Awfull a sound, that we left
both, and proceeded forward, and about seven at night come to Fairfield, where we met with good
entertainment and Lodg'd; and early next morning set forward to Norowalk, from its halfe Indian name
North-walk, when about 12 at noon we arrived, and Had a Dinner of Fryed Venison, very savoury.
Landlady wanting some pepper in the seasoning, bid the Girl hand her the spice in the little Gay cupp on
ye shelfe. From hence we Hasted towards Rye, walking and Leading our Horses neer a mile together, up a
prodigios high Hill; and so Riding till about nine at night, and there arrived and took up our Lodgings at
an ordinary, wch a French family kept. Here being very hungry, I desired a fricasee, wch the Frenchman
undertakeing, mannaged so contrary to my notion of Cookery, that I hastned to Bed superless; And being
shewd the way up a pair of stairs wch had such a narrow passage that I had almost stopt by the Bulk of
my Body; But arriving at my apartment found it to be a little Lento Chamber furnisht amongst other
Rubbish with a High Bedd and a Low one, a Long Table, a Bench and a Bottomless chair,–Little Miss
went to scratch up my Kennell wch Russelled as if shee'd bin in the Barn amongst the Husks, and supose
such was the contents of the tickinnevertheless being exceeding weary, down I laid my poor Carkes
(never more tired) and found my Covering as scanty as my Bed was hard. Annon I heard another
Russelling noise in Y, Room–called to know the matter–Little miss said shee was making a bed for the
men; who, when they were in Bed, complained their leggs lay out of it by reason of its shortness–my poor
bones complained bitterly not being used to such Lodgings, and so did the man who was with us; and
poor I made but one Crone, which was from the time I went to bed to the time I Ris, which was about
three in the morning, Setting up by the Fire till Light, and having discharged our ordinary wch was as
dear as if we had had far Better fare–wee took our leave of Monsier and about seven in the morn come to
New Rochell a french town, where we had a good Breakfast. And in the strength of that about an how'r
before sunsett got to York. Here I applyd myself to Mr. Burroughs, a merchant to whom I was
recommended by my Kinsman Capt. Prout, and received great Civilities from him and his spouse, who
were now both Deaf but very agreeable in their Conversation, Diverting me with pleasant stories of their
knowledge in Brittan from whence they both come, one of which was above the rest very pleasant to me
viz. my Lord Darcy had a very extravagant Brother who had mortgaged what Estate bee could not sell,
and in good time dyed leaving only one son. Him his Lordship (having none of his own) took and made
him Heir of his whole Estate, which he was to receive at the death of his Aunt. He and his Aunt in her
widowhood held a right understanding and lived as become such Relations, shee being a discreat
Gentlewoman and he an Ingenios Young man. One day Hee fell into some Company though far his
inferiors, very freely told him of the III circumstances his fathers Estate lay under, and the many Debts he
left unpaid to the wrong of poor people with whom he had dealt. The Young gentleman was put out of
countenance–no way bee could think of to Redress himself–his whole dependance being on the Lady his
Aunt, and how to speak to her he knew not–Hee went home, sat down to dinner and as usual sometimes
with her when the Chaplain was absent, she desired him to say Grace, woh he did after this manner:.
Pray God in Mercy take my Lady Darcy .
Unto his Heavenly Throne,
That little John may live like a man,
And pay every man his own.
The prudent Lady took no present notice, But finishd dinner, after wch having sat and talk't awhile (as
Customary) He Riss, took his Hat, and Going out she desired him to give her leave to speak to him in her
Clossett, Where being come she desired to know why hee prayed for her Death in the manner aforesaid,
and what part of her deportment towards him merritted such desires. Hee Reply'd, none at all, But he was
under such disadvantages that nothing but that could do him service, and told her how he had been
affronted as above, and what Impressions it had made upon him. The Lady made him a gentle reprimand
that he had not informed her after another manner, Bid him see what his father owed and he should have
money to pay it to a penny, And always to lett her know his wants and he should have a redy supply. The
Young Gentleman charm'd with his Aunts Discrete management, Beggd her pardon and accepted her kind
offer and retrieved his fathers Estate, & c. and said Hee hoped his Aunt would never dye, for shee had
done better by him than hee could have done for himself.–Mr. Burroughs went with me to Vendue where
I bought about 10o Rheem of paper wch was retaken in a flyboat from Holland and sold very Reasonably
here–some ten, some Eight shillings per Rheem by the Lott wch was ten Rheem in a Lott. And at the
Vendue I made a great many acquaintances amongst the good women of the town, who curteosly invited
me to their houses and generously entertained me.
...
Having here transacted the affair I went upon and some other that fell in the way, after about a fortnight's
stay there I left New-York with no Little regrett, and Thursday, Dec. 21, set out for New Haven wth my
Kinsman Trowbridge, and the man that waited on me about one afternoon, and about three come to halfway house about ten miles out of town, where we Baited and went forward, and about 5 come to Spiting
Devil, Else Kings bridge, where they pay three pence for passing over with a horse, which the man that
keeps the Gate set up at the end of the Bridge receives.
We hoped to reach the french town and Lodg there that night, but unhapily lost our way about four miles
short, and being overtaken by a great storm of wind and snow which set full in our faces about dark, we
were very uneasy. But meeting one Gardner who lived in a Cottage thereabout, offered us his fire to set
by, having but one poor Bedd, and his wife not well, & c. or he would go to a Housr with us, where he
thought we might be better accommodated–thither we went, But a surly old shoe Creature, not worthy the
name of woman, who would hardly let us go into her Door, though the weather was so stormy none but
shee would have turnd out a Dogg. But her son whose name was gallop, who lived just by Invited us to
his house and shewed me two pair of stairs, viz. one up the loft and tother up the Bedd, wh was as hard as
it was high, and warmed it with a hott stone at the feet. I lay very uncomfortably, insomuch that I was so
very cold and sick I was forced to call them up to give me something to warm me. They had nothing but
milk in the house, wch they Boild, and to make it better sweetened wth molasses, which I not knowing or
thinking oft till it was down and coming up agen woh it did in so plentifull a manner that my host was
soon paid double for his portion, and that in specia. But I believe it did me service in Cleering my
stomach. So after this sick and weary night at East Chester, (a very miserable poor place,) the weather
being now fair, Friday the 22d Dec. we set out for New Rothell, where being come we had good
Entertainment and Recruited ourselves very well. This is a very pretty place well compact, and good
handsome houses, Clean, good and passable Rodes, and situated on a Navigable River, abundance of land
well fined and Cleerd all along as wee passed, which caused in me a Love to the place, wch I could have
been content to live in it. Here wee Ridd over a Bridge made of one entire stone of such a Breadth that a
cart might pass with safety, and to spare–it lay over a passage cutt through a Rock to convey water to a
mill not farr off. Here are three fine Taverns within call of each other, very good provision for Travailers.
Thence we travailed through Merrinak, a neet, though little place, wth a navigable River before it, one of
the pleasantest I ever see–Here were good Buildings, Especialy one, a very fine seat, wch they told me
was Col. Hethcoats, who I had heard was a very fine Gentleman.
From hence we come to Hors Neck, where wee Baited and they told me that one Church of England
parson officiated in , all these three towns once every Sunday in turns throughout the Year; and that they
all could but poorly maintaine him, which they grudg'd to do, being a poor and quarelsome crew as I
understand by our Host; their Quarelling about their choice of Minister, they chose to have none–But
caused the Government to send this Gentleman to them. Here wee took leave of York Government, and
Descending the Mountainos passage that almost broke my heart in ascending before, we come to
Stamford, a well compact Town, but miserable meeting house, wch we passed, and thro' many and great
difficulties, as Bridges which were exceeding high and very tottering and of vast Length, steep and Rocky
Hills and precipices, (Buggbears to a fearful female travailer.) About nine at night we come to Norrwalk,
having crept over a timber of a Broken Bridge about thirty foot long, and perhaps fifty to ye water. I was
exceeding tired and cold when we come to our Inn, and could get nothing there but poor entertainment,
and the impertinant Bable of one of the worst of men, among many others of which our Host made one,
who, had he bin one degree Impudenter, would have outdone his Grandfather. And this I think is the most
perplexed night I have yet had. From hence, Saturday, Dec. 23, a very cold and windy day, after an
Intolerable night's Lodging, wee hasted forward only observing in our way the Town to be situated on a
Navigable river wth indiferent Buildings and people more refind than in some of the Country towns wee
had passed, tho' vicious enough, the Church and Tavern being next neighbours. Having Ridd thro a
difficult River wee come to Fairfield where wee Baited and were much refreshed as well with the Good
things wch gratified our appetites as the time took to rest our wearied Limbs, woh Latter I employed in
enquiring concerning the Town and manners of the people, & c. This is a considerable town, and filled as
they say with wealthy people–have a spacious meeting house and good Buildings. But the Inhabitants are
Litigious, nor do they well agree with their minister, who (they say) is a very worthy Gentleman. They
have aboundance of sheep, whose very Dung brings them great gain, with part of which they pay their
Parsons sallery, And they Grudg that, prefering their Dung before their minister. They Lett out their sheep
at so much as they agree upon for a night; the highest Bidder always caries them, And they will
sufficiently Dung a Large quantity of Land before morning. But were once Bitt by a sharper who had
them a night and sheared them all before morning–From hence we went to Stamford, the next Town, in
which I observed but few houses, and those not very good ones. But the people that I conversed with were
civill and good natured. Here we staid till late at night, being to cross a Dangerous River ferry, the River
at that time full of Ice; but after about four hours waiting with great difficulty wee got over. My fears and
fatigues prevented my here taking any particular observation. Being got to Milford, it being late in the
night, I could go no further; my fellow travailer going forward, I was invited to Lodg at Mrs. –, a very
kind and civill Gentlewoman, by whom I was handsomely and kindly entertained till the next night. The
people here go very plain in their apparel (more plain than I had observed in the towns I had passed) and
seem to be very grave and serious. They told me there was a singing Quaker lived there, or at least had a
strong inclination to be so, His Spouse not at all affected that way. Some of the singing Crew come there
one day to visit him, who being then abroad, they sat down (to the woman's no small vexation) Humming
and singing and groneing after their conjuring way–Says the woman are you singing quakers? Yea says
They–Then take my squalling Brat of a child here and sing to it says she for I have almost split my throat
wth singing to him and cant get the Rogue to sleep. They took this as a great Indignity, and mediately
departed. Shaking the dust from their Heels left the good woman and her Child among the number of the
wicked.
This is a Seaport place and accomodated with a Good Harbour, But I had not opportunity to make
particular observations because it was Sabbath day–This Evening.
December 24. I set out with the Gentlewomans son who she very civilly offered to go with me when she
see no parswasions would cause me to stay which she pressingly desired, and crossing a ferry having but
nine miles to New Haven, in a short time arrived there and was Kindly received and well accommodated
amongst my Friends and Relations.
...
January 6th. Being now well Recruited and fitt for business I discoursed the persons I was concerned
with, that we might finnish in order to my return to Boston. They delays as they had hitherto done hoping
to tire my Patience. But I was resolute to stay and see an End of the matter let it be never so much to my
disadvantage–So January 9th they come again and promise the Wednesday following to go through with
the distribution of the Estate which they delayed till Thursday and then come with new amusements. But
at length by the mediation of that holy good Gentleman, the Rev. Mr. James Pierpont, the minister of
New Haven, and with the advice and assistance of other our Good friends we come to an accommodation
and distribution, which having finished though not till February, the man that waited on me to York
taking the charge of me I sit out for Boston. We went from New Haven upon the ice (the ferry being not
passable thereby) and the Rev. Mr. Pierpont wch Madam Prout Cuzin Trowbridge and (livers others were
taking leave wee went onward without any thing Remarkabl till wee come to New London and Lodged
again at Mr. Saltonstalls–and here I dismist my Guide, and my Generos entertainer provided me Mr.
Samuel Rogers of that place to go home with me–I stayed a day here Longer than I intended by the
Commands of the Honh'e Govenor Winthrop to stay and take a supper with him whose wonderful civility
I may not omitt. The next morning I Crossed ye Ferry to Groton, having had the Honor of the Company,
of Madam Livingston (who is the Govenors Daughter) and Mary Christophers and divers others to the
boat–And that night Losga at Stonington and had Rost Beef and pumpkin sause for supper. The next night
at Haven's and had Rost fowle, and the next day wee come to a river which by Reason of Ye Freshetts
coming down was swell'a so high wee feara it impassable and the rapid stream was very terryfying–
However we must over and that in a small Cannoo. Mr. Rogers assuring me of his good Conduct, I after a
stay of near an how'r on the shore for consultation went into the Cannoo, and Mr. Rogers paddled about
ioo yards up the Creek by the shore side, turned into the swift stream and dexterously steering her in a
moment wee come to the other side as swiftly passing as an arrow shott out of the Bow by a strong arm. I
staid on ye shore till Hee returned to fetch our horses, which he caused to swim over himself bringing the
furniture in the Cannoo. But it is past my skill to express the Exceeding fright all their transactions
formed in me. Wee were now in the colony of the Massachusetts and taking Lodgings at the first Inn we
come too had a pretty difficult passage the next day which was the second of March by reason of the
sloughy ways then thawed by the Sunn. Here I mett Capt. John Richards of Boston who was going home,
So being very glad of his Company we Rode something harder than hitherto, and missing my way in
going up a very steep Hill, my horse dropt down under me as Dead; this new surprize no little hurt me
meeting it just at the Entrance into Dedham from whence we intended to reach home that night. But was
now obliged to gett another Hors there and leave my own, resolving for Boston that night if possible. But
in going over the Causeway at Dedham the Bridge being overflowed by the high waters comming down I
very narrowly escaped falling over into the river Hors and all wch twas almost a miracle I did not–now it
grew late in the afternoon and the people having very much discouraged us about the sloughy way wch
they said wee should find very difficult and hazardous it so wrought on mee being tired and dispirited and
disapointed of my desires of going home that I agreed to Lodg there that night wch wee did at the house
of one Draper, and the next day being March 3d wee got safe home to Boston, where I found my aged and
tender mother and my Dear and only Child in good health with open arms redy to receive me, and my
Kind relations and friends flocking in to welcome mee and hear the story of my transactions and travails I
having this day bin five months from home and now I cannot fully express my joy and Satisfaction. But
desire sincearly to adore my Great Benefactor for thus graciously carying forth and returning in safety his
unworthy handmaid.
Source: Sarah Kemble Knight, "The Journal of Madam Knight," cited in The Puritans. Edited by Perry Miller and Thomas H. Johnson. (New
York: American Book Company, 1938)
DOCUMENT 24
In 1708, Ebenezer Cook, a gentleman, penned a scathing lampoon on the colony of Maryland , entitled
The Sot-weed Factor [Tobacco trader], Or, a Voyage to Maryland. What does hesuggest about the
character of women brought to the colony and the fate and work regimen that a female servant in this
colony might be subjected to and expected to endure? How does his satire square with other
contemporary accounts, such as that written by George Alsop, and actual court records of the colony?
THE Sot-Weed Factor; Or, a Voyage to Maryland, &c.
Condemn'd by Fate to way-ward Curse,
Of Friends unkind, and empty Purse:
Plagues worse than fill'd Pandora's Box,
I took my leave of Albion's Rocks:
With heavy heart, concern'd that I
Was forc'd my Native soil to fly.
And the Old World must bid good-buy.
But Heav'n ordain'd it should be so.
And to repine is vain we know:
Freighted with Fools, from Plymouth sound,
To Mary-Land our ship was bound.
...
Encountring soon the smoaky Seat,
The Planter old did thus me greet:
"Whether you come from Goal or Colledge,
"You're welcome to my certain Knowledge;
"And if you please all Night to stay,
"My Son shall put you in the way."
Which offer I most kindly took.
And for a Seat did round me look:
When presently amongst the rest,
He plac'd his unknown English Guest,
Who found them drinking for a whet,
A Cask of Syder on the Fret,
Till supper came upon the Table,
On which I fed whilst I was able.
So after hearty Entertainment,
Of Drink and Victuals without Payment;
For Planters Tables, you must know,
Are free for all that come and go.
...
I pluck'd as stoutly for my part,
Altho' it made me sick at Heart,
And got so soon into my Head
I scarce cou'd find my way to Bed;
Where I was instantly convey'd
By one who pass'd for Chamber-Maid;
Tho' by her loose and sluttish Dress,
She rather seem'd a Bedlam-Bess.
Curious to know from whence she came,
I prest her to declare her Name
She Blushing seem'd to hide her Eyes,
And thus in Civil Terms replies:
In better Times, e'er to this Land,
I was unhappily Trapann'd,
Perchance as well I did appear,
As any Lord or Lady here,
Not then a Slave for twice two Year.
My Cloaths were fashionably new,
Nor were my Shifts of Linnen Blue
But things are changed now at the Hoie,
I daily work, and Bare-foot go.
In weeding Corn or feeding Swine,
I spend my melancholy Time.
Kidnap'd and Fool'd, I hither fled,
To shun a hated Nuptial Bed.
And to my cost already find,
Worse Plagues than those I left behind.
Whate'er the Wanderer did profess.
Good-faith I cou'd not choose but guess
The Cause w;hich brought her to this place.
Was supping e'er the Priest said Grace,
Quick as my Thoughts, the Slave was fled,
(Her Candle left to shew my Bed)
Which made of Feathers soft and good,
Close in the Chimney-corner stood;
...
I slumber'd long....
Till hazy Night with noxious Dews,
Did Sleep's unwholsom Fetters lose;
With Vapours chil'd and misty air,
To fire-side I did repair,
Near which a jolly Female Crew
Were deep engag'd at Lanctre-Looe,
In Nighttrails white, with dirty Mein,
Such sights are scarce in England seen:
I thought them first some Witches bent
On Black Designs in dire Convent.
Till one who with affected air,
Had nicely learn'd to Curse and Swear:
Cryid Dealing's lost is but a Flam,
And vow'd by G-d she'd keep her Pam.
When dealing through the board had run,
They ask'd me kindly to make one;
Not staying often to be bid,
I sat me down as others did:
We scarce had play'd a Round about,
But that these Indian Froes fell out.
D-m you, says one, tho' now so brave,
I knew you late a Four-Years Slave;
What if for Planters Wife you go,
Nature design'd you for the Hoe.
Rot you replies the other streight,
The Captain kiss'd you for his Freight;
And if the Truth was known aright,
And how you walk'd the Streets by night,
You'd blush (if one cou'd blush) for shame,
Who from Bridewell or Newgate came.
From Words they fairly fell to Blows,
And being loath to interpose,
Or meddle in the Wars of Punk,
Away to Bed in hast I slunk.
...
Embarqu'd and waiting for a Wind,
I left this dreadful Curse behind.
May Canniballs transported o'er the Sea
Prey on these Slaves, as they have done on me:
May never Merchant's, trading Sails explore
This Cruel, this Inhospitable Shoar;
But left abandon'd by the World to starve,
May they sustain the Fate they well deserve:
May they turn Savage, or as Indians Wild,
From Trade, Converse, and Happiness exil'd:
Recreant to Heaven, may they adore the Sun,
And into pagan Superstitions run
For Vengeance ripe...
May Wrath Divine then lay those Regions wast
Where no Man's Faithful, nor a Woman Chast.
15 Januar, 1707 (8)
Source: Eben. Cook, Gent., The Sot-weed Factor: Or, a Voyage to Maryland. A Satyr. In which is describ'd The Laws, Government, Courts and
Constitutions of the Country, and also the Buildings, Feasts, Frolicks, Entertainments and Drunken Humours of the Inhabitants of that Part of
America. In Burlesque Verse. (London: Printed and Sold by D. Bragg, at the Raven in Pater-Noster-Row, 1708.
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/21346/21346-8.txt
DOCUMENT 25
What were some of the terms in this indentued servant contract, dated Albany, New York, 1710 and how
did it differ (if at all) from those written for male servants?
“THIS INDENTURE witnesseth that Aulkey Hubertse, Daughter of John Hubertse, of the Colony of
Rensselaerwyck deceased hath bound herself as a Meniall Servant, and by these presents doth voluntary
and of her own free will and accord bind herself as a Meniall Servant unto John Delemont of the City of
Albany, weaver, by and with the consent of the Deacons of the Reformed Dutch Church in the Citty of
Albany, who are as overseers in the disposal of the said Aulkey Hubertse to serve from the date of these
present Indentures unto the full end and term of time that the said Aulkey Hubertse shall come to Age, all
which time fully to be Compleat and ended, during all which term the said servant her said Master
faithfully shall serve, his secrets keep, his lawful commands gladly everywhere obey, she shall do no
Damage to her said Master nor see it to be done by others without letting or giving notice thereof to her
said Master: she shall not waste her Master’s goods or lend them unlawfully to any. At Cards, Dice, or
any unlawful Game she shall not play whereby her said Master may have Damage: with her own goods or
the goods of others during the said Term, without License from her said Master she shall neither buy or
sell: she shall not absent herself day or night from her Master’s service without his Leave, nor haunt Alehouses, Taverns, or Playhouses, but in all things as a faithful servant, she shall behave herself towards her
said Master and all his during the said Term. And the said Master during the said Term, shall find and
provide sufficient Wholesome and compleat meat and drink, washing, lodging, and apparell and all other
Necessarys fit for such a servant: and it is further agreed between the said Master and Servant in case the
said Aulkey Hubertse should contract Matrimony before she shall come to Age then the said Servant is to
be free from her said Master’s service by virtue thereof: and at the expiration of her said servitude, her
said Master John Delemont shall find provide for and deliver unto his said servant double apparell, that is
to say, apparell fit for to have and to wear as well on the Lords Day as working days, both linning and
woolen stockings and shoes and other Necessarys meet for such a servant to have and to wear, and for the
true performance of all and every of said Covenant and Agreements the said parties bind themselves unto
each other by these presents.
[Albany, NY 1710]
DOCUMENT 26
In 1712, the Lieutenant Governor of the colony of Pennsylvania met in council with the Lenni Lenape (or
Delaware) Indians. What do the Miniutes of the Provincial Council suggest was the Indians' sexist reason
for including their women at the treaty with their Iroqouis Indians overlords? How evident are colonial
women in these proceedings?
At a Council held at White Marsh, ye 19th of May, 1712, at ye House of Edwd. ffarmer.
PRESENT:
The Hon[oura]ble CHARLES GOOKIN, Esqr., Lieut. Governour.
Edward Shippen,
Judge Growdon,
Samll. Carpenter,
Thos. Story,
Esq'rs.
James Logan,
Richd. Hill,
Isaac Norris,
Jonathn. Dickinson.
Esqu'rs.
Present, also Thos. Masters, Jno. Budd, Sherif, Richd. Walker, Coroner, Edwd. ffarmer,
Interpreter to the Indians.
The Govr. & Council having rode out to Edwd. ffarmers house, to meet the Delaware Indians
according to appointment, before they sets out on their Journey to the five nations, Sasunnan their Chief,
Scollitchy Ealochelan, & Eleven others, waited on the Govr., And he being seated with the Council,
Scollitchy, their Speaker, addressing his discourse to the Govr. by the the [sic] Interpreter, Declared, that
many years ago being made Tributaries to the Mingoes or 5 nations, & being now about to visit them,
they thought fitt first to wait on the Govr. & Council, to lay before them the Collec[ti]on they had made
of their tribute to offer, and to have a Conference with the Govr. upon it, they thereupon laid on the floor
32 Belts of Wampum of various ffigures, and a long Indian pipe called the Calamet, with a stone head, a
wooden or cane shaft & feathers fixt to it like wings, with other ornaments.
This pipe they said, upon making their submissions to the five Nations, who had subdued them &
obliged them to be their tributaries, those nations had given to these Indians to be kept by them, that at all
times thereafter, upon shewing this pipe where they Came they might be known to be the friends and
subjects of the five Nations, and be received by them when they Came amongst them.
They they proceeded to open their Belts, & Declared for what purpose & with what intentions
each of them particularly was sent. (p. 546) //
The first belt they said was sent by one, who at that time of their agreemt. or submission was an
Infant & Orphan, the son of a Considerable man amongst them.
The second Belt was presented by one who was also the son of one then Deceased, but Desired,
to be taken in & accounted as one of the children to those of the five nations, that he might have a clear &
free passage amongst them.
The third belt is presented by another Orphan who Desires the same.
The fourth by a son of one them living, & sends it so large to Express his respect, as that it shall
Cover the Pipe or Calamet.
The fifth is to Inform, that tho' the principal of the family that sends it be Dead, Yet they
Continue their Obedience & shew their Intention by this present.
The Sixth sent by another who Desires to be regarded as a Child of the 5 nations.
The seventh by a woman who Desires to be Considered according to her sex; desires peace, that
she may eat & Drink in Quiet, & is willing always to pay tribute.
The Eighth by a woman to the same purpose, desires she may make & keep fires in quiet.
The Ninth by a woman to the same purpose, that she may plant & reap in quiet.
The tenth by a woman, desires peace & ease from ye rising of the sun to his going down.
The Eleventh by a woman, Desiring they may always have fair weather & sunshine with ye 5
nations.
The Twelfth by a woman, that a long time ago they made a peace & Desired that it may always
be kept strong & ffirm.
The thirteenth by a woman that formerly the five Nations lived amongst us, that tho' now they are
at a Distance they may live Quiet.
The fourteenth by a woman Desiring their Houses may be the same.
The fifteenth by a woamn, that they are glad they can enjoy peace so quietly to bed and rise in the
same manner.
The sixteenth, That formerly some french Inhabited among the five Nations, but a War breaking
out, the five nations had Destroyed them, they pray that they may always do ye same.
The seventeenth that they shall always keep an Open & Clean House for the 5 nations, & be
ready to receive them.
The eighteenth That as they have had Houses among the 5 nations, they Desire they may always
have the same privilege.
The nineteenth That they may build their houses firm, as to continue there long, and not be
obliged to make them slight, as if they were on all occasions to fly.
The twentieth to the same purpose.
The twenty first that they build Houses & keep fires, without molestation. (p. 547) //
The twenty second that they have built Houses, rest securely in them, & do not Doubt but they
shall have the same liberty.
The twenty third, That formerly one of the Chiefs of those Nations came down & Dwelt among
ym. [them], that they Regarded him always as their superiour, & one of them.
The twenty fourth That when they arrive, they would fully hear & understand tehm ; and that they
may have Liberty to pass & repass in all places.
The twenty-fifth that they may make Racoon & other Blanketts to cloathe them, & sett Down in
them in peace.
The twenty sixth that they are sorry the french should Destroy any of them, for that they take the
Loss of any of them to be the Loss of themselves.
The twenty seventh That having heard that in their Warrs they had obtained a victory over the
ffrench, they were very Glad, & Congratulated them upon it.
The Twenty Eight that they are glad their young men have the Privilege of going far from their
own habitacons to hunt abroad in peace, & that they can return home & Eat & Drink & Enjoy themselves.
The Twenty Ninth that they are Glad they can go in peace to hunt far abroad, that they may return
home & Eat quietly meat to make them Strong.
The Thirtieth they are Glad they can hunt & bring home relief to their poor relacons.
The Thirty first They are sorry that the Children as well as theirs die ; that their Eyes have been so
shutt up by it, that they could not see the Sun ; Desire they may be opened, & that all may be cheerful.
The Thirty second They hope they will be pleased with the presents now offered, and that their
children will have it in Everlasting Remembrance ; these last 24 were all sent by women, the Indians
Reckoning the paying of Tribute becomes none but women & children.
These two Belts were given them, one by Govr. Penn when here, the other sent since by Coll.
Evans to Conestogo, which they are also to carry with them, but Desire they may be now instructed what
was intended by them.
They were told it was now Eleven years since they reced. this present from Govr. Penn in order to
carry it up, & therefore they were asked why it was so long Deferred.
They answered, that the person who was to carry them (viz. Hetoquean,) died very soon after, and
that they had not Concluded to this year who should carry them, but now they are going.
As to the two last presents, They were told they must shew them to ye Chiefs of ye five Nations as
tokens of a firm & real friendship between them & us ; they were Desired to acquaint the said Nations
fully in what a peaceable manner, and with how much true friendship We had always lived with them, our
nearest Neighouring Indians, ever since William Penn first came into this Land, and (p. 548) // wished
that all others might take the same Methods, that nothing but peace & Love might reign among us ; and
when they should make this fully known to those nations, and shewed them these belts as tokens sent
them for that purpose, and to bring them back again with them to be still kept by them, & by no means to
be parted with. They were further Desired not to Enter on this subject, or to shew these Belts till they had
intrely done their own business.
They presented a Bundle of Drest Deer Skins as an instance of their thanks to the Govr., for
favouring them with his Company & hearing what they had to say.
They presented a second bundle of the same kind, Declaring that they are sorry they are not better
furnished, nor more Capable of Making a present suitable to their Inclination & respect they bear, but at
their return from the 5 Nations, when they bring the answer they shall there receive, they hope to offer
something more worthy.
These presents being kindly accepted, filling their Calumet or long winged pipe with Tobacco, &
lighted it, they presented it so lighted to the Govr. & each of the Council, &c., to smoak a few blasts of it,
as the token of the greatest friendship that could be shewn.
It was proposed to the Board that some small handsome present should be sent by these people to
each king or Chief of the five nations, and accordingly it was Resolved, that a fine Laced Stroudwater
matchcoat and a fine white shirt should be provided for each of the Chiefs, & sent by these now going ;
Which being interpreted to them, they Expressed a great satisfaction in it, and offered their service Gladly
to be the bearers of it.
It was then proposed what presents should be provided for these people in return of theirs, &
being agreed on to the value of £---, they were ordered to be Delivered. (p. 549)
DOCUMENT 27
John Lawson, in his History of North Carolina published in 1714 describes the Christian inhabitants of
the North Carolina "backcountry." How does he differentiate between the industry and work of the male
and female colonists in this region?
...
As for those of our own Country in Carolina, some of the Men are very laborious, and make great
Improvements in their Way; but I dare hardly give 'em that Character in general. The Easy way of living
in that plentiful Country, makes a great many Planters very negligent, which, were they otherwise, that
Colony might now have been in a far better Condition than it is, (as to Trade, and other Advantages)
which an universal Industry would have led them into.
The Women are the most industrious Sex in that Place, and, by their good Housewifry, make a great deal
of Cloath of their own Cotton, Wool and Flax; some of them keeping their Families (though large) very
decently apparel'd, both with Linnens and Woollens, so that they have no occasion to run into the
Merchant's Debt, or lay their Money out on Stores for Cloathing.
The Christian Natives of Carolina are a straight, clean-limb'd People; the Children being seldom or never
troubled with Rickets, or those other Distempers, that the Europeans are visited withal. 'Tis next to a
Miracle, to see one of them deform'd in Body. The Vicinity of the Sun makes Impression on the Men,
who labour out of doors, or use the Water. As for those Women, that do not expose themselves to the
Weather, they are often very fair, and generally as well featur'd, as you shall see any where, and have very
brisk charming Eyes, which sets them off to Advantage. They marry very young; some at Thirteen or
Fourteen; and She that stays till Twenty, is reckon'd a stale Maid; which is a very indifferent Character in
that warm Country. The Women are very fruitful; most Houses being full of Little Ones. It has been
observ'd, that Women long marry'd, and without Children, in other Places, have remov'd to Carolina, and
become joyful Mothers. They have very easy Travail in their Child-bearing, in which they are so happy,
as seldom to miscarry. Both Sexes are generally spare of Body, and not Cholerick, nor easily cast down at
Disappointments and Losses, seldom immoderately grieving at Misfortunes, unless for the Loss of their
nearest Relations and Friends, which seems to make a more than ordinary Impression upon them. Many
of the Women are very handy in Canoes, and will manage them with great Dexterity and Skill, which they
become accustomed to in this watry Country. They are ready to help their Husbands in any servile Work,
as Planting, when the Season of the Weather requires Expedition; Pride seldom banishing good
Housewifry. The Girls are not bred up to the Wheel, and Sewing only; but the Dairy and affairs of the
House they are very well acquainted withal; so that you shall see them, whilst very young, manage their
Business with a great deal of Conduct and Alacrity. The Children of both Sexes are very docile, and learn
any thing with a great deal of Ease and Method; and those that have the Advantages of Education, write
good Hands, and prove good Accountants, which is most coveted, and indeed most necessary in these
Parts. The young Men are commonly of a bashful, sober Behaviour; few proving Prodigals, to consume
what the Industry of their Parents has left them, but commonly improve it. The marrying so young, carries
a double Advantage with it, and that is, that the Parents see their Children provided for in Marriage, and
the young married People are taught by their Parents, how to get their Living; for their Admonitions make
great Impressions on their Children. I had heard (before I knew this new World) that the Natives of
America were a short-liv'd People, which, by all the Observations I could ever make, proves quite
contrary; for those who are born here, and in other Colonies, live to as great Ages as any of the
Europeans, the Climate being free from Consumptions, which Distemper, fatal to England, they are
Strangers to. And as the Country becomes more clear'd of Wood, it still becomes more healthful to the
Inhabitants, and less addicted to the Ague; which is incident to most new Comers into America from
Europe, yet not mortal. A gentle Emetick seldom misses of driving it away, but if it is not too
troublesome, 'tis better to let the Seasoning have its own course, in which case, the Party is commonly
free from it ever after, and very healthful.
Source: John Lawson, The History of North Carolina, p. 85-86.
DOCUMENT 28
In 1715, Lydia George consented to become the third wife of the Reverend Cotton Mather. A wealthy and
astute women, she had a prenuptial contract drawn up that afforded her the following protections. Over
the course of her stormy marriage with the Massachusett minister, he made entries in his diary that
implied that she was prone to hysterical fits that would have tested the patience of a saint and even
caused him to question her sanity; unfortunately, Lydia did not keep a diary so we never hear her side of
their marital disputes. How might we interprete these same unflattering passages written by her husband
in light of what we know to have been the unstated context in which Lydia's supposed outbursts of insanity
or demonic possessions occurred?
[terms of prenuptial contract, 1715]
…from and after the Consummation of the said Marriage, she, the said Lydia by herself, or with the
assistance of such meet person or persons whom She shal appoint, shall and may from time to time and at
all times during her Coverture, manage, impower and employ as she shall think fit, all the Lands,
Tenements, money goods, Chattels or other Estate whatsoever which of right is belonging, appertaining
or payable unto her, and to take, Receive and dispose to her own use all the Issues, profits, benefits and
Incomes thence to be made or Raised without any Lett hindrance or denyall of the said Cotton Mather.
…
[secret notebook entry, 1719]
The Consort, in whom I flattered myself with the View and hopes of an uncommon Enjoyment,
has dismally confirmed it unto me, that our Idols must prove our Sorrows.
Now and then, in some of the former Years, I observed and suffered grievous Outbreakings of her
proud Passions; but I quickly overcame them, with my victorious Love, and in the Methods of Meekness
and Goodness….I do not know, that I have to this Day spoke one impatient or unbecoming Word unto
her; tho’ my Provocations have been unspeakable; and, it may be, few Men in the World, would have
born them as I have done.
But this last Year has been full of her prodigious Paroxysms; which have made it a Year of such
Distresses with me, as I have never seen in my life before.
When the Paroxysms have gone off, she has treated me still with a Fondness, that it may be, few
Wives in the World have arriv’d unto. But in the Returns of them (which of late still grow more and more
frequent,) she has insulted me with such Outrages, that I am at a Loss, which I should ascribe them to;
whether a Distraction, (which may be somewhat Haereditary,) or to a Possession; (whereof the Symptoms
have been too direful to be mentioned.)
…
…I have lived for near a Year in a continual Anguish of Expectation, that my poor Wife, by exposing her
Madness, would bring a Ruine on my Ministry….
[Coincidentally, this is the same period in which Cotton Mather’s personal financial problems begin,
which will almost cause him to borrow from his son, and he barely avoids being taken to debtor’s prison
in 1724.]
…
[June 30, 1724 translated from Latin to prevent Lydia from reading it:]
My most wretched wife, after a period of loving me passionately, has once again slipped into her former
madness. She has been attacked by an evil spirit which before had been calmed and put to flight by the
lyre of David. She make scenes, she tries to injure me and my children, and she makes troubles for me….
[August 17, 1724]
In the Evening of this Day, my poor Wife, returning to a right Mind, came to me in my Study, entreating
that there might be an eternal Oblivion of every thing that has been out of Joint, and an eternal Harmony
in our future Conversation; and that for the expressing and further obtaining of this Foelicity, I would
now join with her, in pouring out Supplications to the Lord: and resolve to pray oftener with her, than
ever heretofore. I did accordingly. And the Tokens of the greatest Inamoration on her part ensued upon it.
[Early July, 1724, Mather’s congreagation collects more than £200 sterling to save him from debtor’s
prison; following his financial rescue, Mather notes on July 31, 1724:]
Inexplicable, inexplicably changeable, my wife has been restored to a new and healthy state. Her raging
has abated. She embraced me with the highest ardors of love.
…
[August 13, 1724]
This Night my unaccountable Consort, had a prodigious Return of her Pangs upon her; that seemed little
short of a proper Satanical Possession. After a thousand unrepeatable Invectives, compelling me to rise at
Midnight, and retire to my Study that I might there pour out my Soul unto the Lord; she also gott up in an
horrid Rage, protesting that she would never live or stay with me; and calling up her wicked Neice and
Maid, she went over to a Neighbour’s House for a Lodging; Doubtless with numberless Lies, which a
Tongue sett on Fire of Hell, would make no Conscience of.
[The day before her “possession,” the Mather family received word that Cotton had been passed over for
the president of Harvard, a prestigious post he had coveted for years. Lydia”inexplicably” reconciled
with Cotton on August 23, 1724, soon after learning of his loss at sea of his son, Increase, and took care
of Cotton during the years of sickness that preceeded his death.]
Source: Carole Chandler Waldrup, More Colonial Women: 25 Pioneers of Early America. (Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company,
2004), p. 20; see also Virginia Bernhard, “Cotton Mather’s ‘Most Unhappy Wife’: Reflections on the Uses of Historical Evidence,” The New
England Quarterly 60:3 (Sept. 1987): 341-362.
DOCUMENT 29
On July 16, 1716, authorities in New York City passed the following ordinances regarding the profession
of midwives, making them virtual servants of the state responsible for reporting on infanticide, bastardy,
etc. Some New England townships went futher in this direction, even providing houses or lots rent-free
for professional midwives.
It is ordained that no woman within this corporation shall exercise the employment of midwife until she
have taken oath before the mayor, recorder, or an alderman to the following effect: That she shall be
diligent and ready to help any woman in labor, whether poor or rich; that in time of necessity she will not
forsake the poor woman and go to the rich; that she will not cause or suffer any woman to name or put
any other father to the child, but only him which is the very father thereof, indeed according to the utmost
of her power; that she will not suffer any woman to pretend to be delivered of a child who is not, indeed,
neither to claim any other woman's child for her own; that she will not suffer any woman's child to be
murdered or hurt; and as often as she shall see any peril or jeopardy, either in the mother or the child, she
will call in other midwives for counsel; that she will not administer any medicine to produce miscarriage;
that she will not force any woman to give more for her services than is right; that she will not collude to
keep secret the birth of a child; will be of good behavior; will not conceal the birth of bastards.
Source: Cited in, Richard W. Wertz and Dorothy C. Wertz, Lying-In: A History of Childbirth in America (Yale University Press, 1989), p. 7-8.
DOCUMENT 30
While some persons voluntarilly entered into indentured contracts with an employer for a specified term
of service in return for food, clothes, and lodgings, others were obliged to become servants either because
they were judged to be vagrants or had to repay debts or fines. Once the strength and independence of
tribal communities was broken, individual Indians possessing no land increasingly found themselves
subject to colonial laws and legal fines they had no means of paying off. In addition to being forced into
servitude, what other problems does this 1723/1725/1726/7 indenture from Plymouth, Massachusetts
suggest that involuntary Indian servants such as Alice Sachemus face?
Anno RR George II Decimo at his Majesty’s Court of General Sessions of the Peace begun & held at
Plymouth, for and within ye County of Plymouth in the Province of the Massachusetts Bay, on ye third
Tuesday of Sept. (being ye Seventeenth Day of said month) Anno Dom. 1723
Sept. 20 1723
Alice Sachemus, Indian woman, widow of John Sachemus, being a prisoner in ye gaol at Plymouth on
execution upon a judgment obtained by Mr. John Otis Jr. of Barnstable at the Superior Court held at
Plymouth on ye last Tuesday of April last and the execution fees & prison charges amounting to about
twelve pounds.
The said Alice Sachemus, not having wherewithal to pay, is with her own consent by ye Court let over to
ye said John Otis. With him, his heirs, executors, administrators & assigns to dwell & serve from ye day
of the date hereof in any lawful employment for ye space of three years, he or they finding & providing
for ye said Alice Sachemus suitable & sufficient meat, drink, lodging & apparel during ye term of her
service with him. The said Otis promising before ye Court that the infant child of ye said Alice shall be no
charge to the town where it is kept and also if ye said Alice Sachemus bring anybody to pay what is or
shall remain due on amount of said execution to ye said Mr. Otis, the said Alice is then to be discharged
from any further service to ye said Mr. Otis.
A true copy as appears of records named
Josiah Cotton Clerk
Plymouth June 17th 1725
Know all men by those presents that I, John Otis Junr of Barnstable in ye County of Barnstable, do by
virtue of these presents for a valuable consideration to me in hand paid, assign and set over to Consider
Howland of Plymouth in the County of Plymouth all the rights, title and interests that I have or ought to
have unto the within named Alice Sachamus by virtue of the within written judgment of Court, as witness
my hand & seal this day abovewritten in presence of
Jonathan Briant, Josiah Sturtevant John Otis Jr
Plim 22 June ye 1725
The above named John Otis acknowledges ye abovewritten assignment to be his attested and before me
John Cushing Justice of the Peace
(?)ment. Consider Howland do hereby assign, sell & make over my whole right, title & interest of (?) the
within named Alice Sachemas, Indian, for a valuable consideration to me in hand paid & receipt whereof,
I do hereby acknowledge by Mr. Jabis Allen of Killingsley in ye County of Wendom in ye Colony of
Connecticut, yeoman, witness my hand & seal this eleventh day of January 1726/7
Witnesses
Peres Bradford
Justin Crymble Consider Howland
DOCUMENT 31
In 1730, the General Assembly of Maryland issued a number of rules regulating the growing of tobacco
in light of the saturation of the market. How did these rules affect female masters (or mistresses) and
female servants in Maryland?
Whereas, it is evident to this General Assembly, That unless some Provision be made for the
Improvement of the Staple of Tobacco, the People of Maryland, whose present Dependance is on the
Produce of that Commodity, must be inevitably reduced to want common Necessaries, or to fall upon
some other Ways and Means, however difficult, to supply themselves.
Be It Therefore Enacted, by the Right Honourable the Lord Proprietary, by and with the Advice and
Consent of his Lordship's Governour, and the Upper and Lower Houses of Assembly, and the Authority
of the same, That every labouring Taxable Person, working in Tobacco, (except such Persons as are
herein after-mentioned,) and every Overseer shall have Liberty to tend Six Thousand Tobacco-Plants
Yearly, during the Continuance of this Act, and no more: And that every Housekeeper, whether Male or
Female, having no Taxables, shall be allowed to tend for him or herself, Ten Thousand Plants, and no
more: And every House-keeper, whether Male or Female, having no more than one Taxable, shall be
allowed to rend for him or herself, Seven Thousand Plants, and no more: And for such Taxable, the like
Number of Plants, and no more:
And that every Male Child, from Twelve to Sixteen Years of Age, and every Male Servant within the
same Ages, and each Slave, Male or Female, within the same Ages, belonging to any of the forementioned Housekeepers, shall be allowed to tend Three Thousand Plants, and no more:
And that every such Housekeeper, having One White Woman Servant, shall be allowed to tend
for such Servant, Three Thousand Tobacco-Plants, and no more: And such Housekeeper, having
more than One White Woman Servant, shall have Liberty to tend Three Thousand Plants, for
each of such White Women Servants, and no more.
Provided, That no such Housekeeper, shall have any Allowance for more than Two White Women,
whereof the Wife or Mistress of the Family, if employed in making Tobacco, and having but one
White Woman Servant, shall always be accounted One.
And that all Persons, having more than One Taxable, and not more than Four, shall be allowed to
tend with each Male Child, from Thirteen to Sixteen Years of Age, and with each Male Servant,
within the same Ages, and for each Slave, Male, or Female, within the same Age, that shall be
employ'd in making Tobacco, Three Thousand Plants, and no more. And that no Person, having Five
Taxables, who shall be employ'd in making Tobacco, or whereof one or more shall be employ'd in
any Trade, or any other Labour, except Household or Domestick Service, shall be allowed to tend
any Number of Tobacco-Plants, for him or herself, nor have any Allowance for any of his or her
Female Children, or White Women Servants, nor for any Male Child, under Sixteen Years of Age,
nor for any Male Servant or Slave, Male or Female, under Thirteen Years of Age; but that each Male
Servant, and each Male or Female Slave, from Thirteen to Sixteen Years of Age, belonging to such
Person, having Five Taxables, as aforesaid, that shall be employ'd in making Tobacco, may tend
Three Thousand Tobacco-Plants, and no more: And that no Person, being a Freeman, who shall
Work at his Trade for his Livelihood, shall be allowed to Plant any Tobacco.
And Be It Further Enacted, That no Servant or Slave, being a Tradesman, who shall at any Time,
between the Publication of this Act, and the First Day of September next, and between the First
Day of April, and the First Day of September Yearly, during the Continuance of this Act, work
at his or their Trade or Trades, upon the Plantation or Plantations of any Person or Persons, nor any
Servant or Slave, who shall, at any Time, between the Times aforesaid, during the Continuance of
this Act, be employ'd as Coachman, Groom, Waiting-Man, Cook, Dairy-Maid, or in any other
Domestick Office or Service, in or about the Dwelling-House of his or her Master or Mistress, nor
White Women, (except as before excepted,) shall be allow'd to tend any Tobacco.
Provided, That nothing in this Act shall be construed to restrain any Tradesman or other Housekeeper from repairing or building any House or Houses, to him or them belonging, or from doing any
Thing else, in his or their Trade or Profession, upon his or their own Plantation, and to his or their
own Use; nor to restrain any White Woman allow'd by this Act to plant or tend any Tobacco, from
doing any Domestick or other Business; nor to hinder or restrain any Slave living at a Quarter,
from Milking, Washing, Dressing Victuals, or any other Domestick Business, at such Quarter,
for the Use of the Overseer, Servants, or Slaves, there employed.
...
Source: Proceedings and Acts of the General Assembly, May-June, 1730
http://aomol.net/megafile/msa/speccol/sc2900/sc2908/000001/000037/html/am37--139.html
DOCUMENT 32
Strict laws regarding fornication and bastardy in colonial Pennsylvania may have had the unforeseen
consequence of pushing single women into the desperate circumstances of trying to conceal their
pregnancies. In one case brought before the attention of the Provincial Council of Pennsylvania, one such
desperate couple were sentenced to death for the heinous crime of infanticide following what they
claimed to be the secret burial of a still-born bastard.
At a Council held at Philadelphi, May 15th, 1732. P.M.
PRESENT:
The Hon[ora]ble PATRICK GORDON, Esqr., Lieut. Governor.
Isaac Norris,
Clement Plumsted,
Thomas Laurence,
Ralph Assheton.
Esq'rs.
A Report of the Justices appointed to deliver the Goal of the County of Lancaster was read in
these Words :
To the Honourable Patrick Gordon, Esquire, Lieut. Governor of Pennsylvania, &c.,
Pursuant to His Majesty's Speacial Commission of Oyer and Terminer & General Goal Delivery
fo the County of Lancaster, to us directed, We do humbly certify your Honour, that a Court was held at
Lancaster on the third and fourth days of this instant, May, where Margaret Shitts was indicted &
convicted of concealing the Birth & Burial of a Bastard Child, born of her, till it was afterwards found out
; & Peter Harp was likewise indicted & convicted of aiding & abetting the said Margaret in the Felony
aforesaid, for which they have received Sentence of Death according to Law. But it not appearing to us on
the Tryal but that the Child might have been born dead, We beg leave to recommend these unhappy
Persons to your Honour's Clemency.... (p. 429)
Source: www.footnote.com/image/1076144 and 1076145
DOCUMENT 33
Mary Musgrove (1700-1763) daughter of white South Carolinian trader and neice of "old Brim,"
Emperor of the Creeks, became an invaluable interpreter and cultural broker between the Georgia
colonists and her own peoples. What does the following letter written by her in 1734 to James
Olgethorpe, the trustee of the colony reveal about the role she played and influence she commanded?
MARY MUSGROVE TO JAMES OGLETHORPE
Savannah
July 17, 1734
Honoured Sir:
I make bold to acquaint you that Thomas Jones is returned from the Choctaws and according to You
Honour’s desire, he has brought the Choctaws down and they have received great favours from Colonel
Bull and Mr. Causton and all the rest of the colony, and a great deal of respect showed them, which they
are wonderfully pleased at. And when they came down Mr. Jones brought with him some of the heads of
the Tallaposas which is called the upper Creeks. The Dog King of Uphalais, Chauaway by name, went
with Mr. Jones up to the Choctaws to make peace, and he is mighty glad that he and Mr. Jones did
persuade them to come down, which is more than ever Carolina could do to get them down before. And
the Choctaws are so glad that some white people whom they called their masters has taken such care of
them as to send for them. And they was very glad for the opportunity to come, for they lived very poor
before and now they are in good hopes to live as the other Indians do. For they had nor have no trade with
the French and their skins lie by them and rot. When Mr. Thomas Jones came to them at first there was
thirty towns only that had the notice. Before Mr. Jones came away they all gave their consents for their
coming, but notice was still sent on father. And they say they like the English better than the French, and
that they will stand by the English as long as they have one left alive. There was some of the
Caupahauches and the Hulbaumors came with them. The Choctaw King thinks they are obliged to the
white people and thinks they cannot do enough for the white peoples, especially the English. And since
they have been here there has not one of them been disguised in liquor or any ways saucy upon any
account. They have been here twenty-one days, for Mr. Causton thought it proper to send for Colonel Bull
and that was the reason of their being detained so long here. Governour Johnson has sent for them to
come to Carolina, but Thomas Jones was not willing they should go to Carolina for fear of disobliging
Your Honour. And as he was sent for them for the colony he did not care they should go anywhere else.
Your Honour’s name is spread very much amongst them, and they say that, when Your Honour comes
back to Georgia, they will be bound to raise a thousand or two at Your Honour’s command if desired.
And they design to leave the French entirely and then they will come down and pay their respects to you
and to Governour Johnson if Your Honour desires they should go to Carolina but not without Your
Honours consent. Mr. Thomas Jones does insist of the trade amongst the Choctaws as Your Honour did
promise him. And the Choctaws have so very great respect and value for Mr. Jones that they had rather
have him to trade among them than anybody else, because he ventured his life to bring them down to the
English.
Honoured Sir, there has been a great dispute about the lot that you was pleased to give the grant of to
Thomas Jones, and since you have given it to Mr. Parker, gentleman, and since to me. Jones is returned
home, he finds he had lost it, so there has been a Court business about it, for Mr. Jones does insist upon
that very lot or else none. And the Court has considered upon it and was so good as to give it to him
again. The colony is in good health and my husband is the same. And I beg Your Honour will take great
care of him, he being in a strange place and not able to take care of himself and to send him home as soon
as possible. Captain Mackay is not gone up as yet to the Creeks nor I do not know when he will. The
Indians has expected him these three months ago. The Tallooposa king has made great complaints of the
French building forts amongst them and they did not know where or who to go to so they came to see if
the English would protect them. I remain, with my duty to Your Honour and wishing Your Honour health
and all the happiness that this world can afford, Your Honour’s most humble and most obedient servant to
command.
Source: http://msit.gsu.edu/dhr/gacolony/letters/mary_musgrove_1734.htm
DOCUMENT 34
Although by no means necessarily a representative case, what does the following letter dated May 02,
1740, from Eliza Lucas Pinckney--(responsible for the successful transplantation of indigo into South
Carolina)--suggest may have been the lot of women living on isolated plantations when the patriarchs
might be away for long periods of time?
May ye 2d 1740
Dear Madam
I flatter myself it will be a satisfaction to hear I like this part of the world as my lott has fallen here which
I really do. I prefer England to it tis true but think Carolina greatly preferable to the West Indies and was
my Papa here I should be very happy. We have a very good acquaintance from whom we have received
much friendship and Civility. Charles Town the principal one in this province is a polite agreeable place
the people live very Gentilie and very much in the English Taste. The Country is in General fertile and
abounds with Venison and wild fowl; the Venison is much higher flavour'd than in England but tis seldom
fatt. My papa and Mamas great indulgence to me leaves it to me to chuse our place of residence either in
town or in Country but I think it more prudent as well as most agreeable to my Mama and self to be in the
Country during my father's absence we are 17 mile by land and 6 by water from Charles Town where we
have about 6 agreeable families around us with whom we live in great harmony I have a little library well
furnishd for my papa has left me most of his books) in wch I spend part of my time. My Musick and the
Garden wch I am very fond of take up the rest of my time that is not imployd in business of wch my father
has left me a pretty good share and indeed 'twas unavailable as my Mama's bad state of health prevents
her going through any fatigue. I have the business of 3 plantations to transact wch requires much writing
and more business and fatigue of other sorts that you can imagine but least you should imagine it too
burthensome to a girl at my early time of life give me leave to assure you I think myself happy that I can
be useful to so good a father. and by rising very early I find I can go through much business but lest you
should think I shall be quite moapd with this way of life I am to inform you there are two worthy Ladies
in Crs Town Mrs Pinckey and Mrs Cleland who are partial enough to me to be always pleased to have me
with them and insist upon my making their house my home when in town and press me to relax a little
much oftenr than tis in my power to accept of their obliging intreaties but I sometimes am with one or the
other for 3 weeks or a month at a time and then enjoy all the pleasures Crs Town affords but nothing gives
me more than subscribing myself
Dr Madam
yr most affectionate and
Most obliged humble Servt.
Eliza Lucas
To my good friend Mrs Boddicott
…
...I was very early fond of the vegetable world, my Father was pleased with it and encouraged it, he told
me the turn I had for those amusements might produce something of real and public utility, If I could
bring to perfection the plants of other Countries which he would procure me: accordingly when he went
to the West Indies he sent me a variety of seeds, among them the Indigo. I was ignorant both of the proper
season for sowing it, and the soil best adapted to it. to the best of my recollection I first try'd it in March
1741, or 1742, It was destroyed (I think by a frost). The next time in April, and it was cut down by a
worm: I persevered to a third planting and succeeded, and when I informed my Father it bore seed and the
seed ripened, he sent a man from the Island of Monserat by the name of Cromwell who had been
accustomed to making Indigo there, and gave him high wages; he made some brick Vats on my Fathers
plantation on Wappo Creek and there made the first Indigo....
Eliza Lucas Pinckney to [Charles Cotesworth Pinckney], Sept. 10, 1785. Charleston Library Society.
DOCUMENT 35
Many Protestant religious sects in Colonial America encouraged their members either to keep spiritual
journals or diaries, to write or orally present a testimony of their conversion experience, or to write down
a spiritual autobiography before taking that journey into the next world. The latter autobiographies were
especially popular among the Moravians settling in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Do the following women’s
accounts of their lives reflect a common experience, or one shaped by other considerations as class and
race?
Personalia of the blessed Sister Marie Werner, born Brantner [1711-1760]
She was born on December 24, 1711 in Werven, a place in Salzburg, and christened in the Catholic
religion. Her father, Martin Brantner, was a linen weaver by profession. Because her mother suffered a
premature death, Marie had to live among strange people while she was still quite young. There must
have been a hidden hand of God over her that she did not understand at the time; when she heard a
Catholic priest preach about the suffering of God-something that did not often occur-she had to weep. It
so happened that that she came to live with people who gathered as a family in the evenings to read from
the Bible, and from Dr. Luther's Postilla, and even to sing Luther's songs. She was quite well among
them. This caused her to leave her homeland with the other exiles in 1731. She was the only one from her
family to do this, and she did it with such joy that neither her father nor the authorities, who spoke to her
especially politely, could talk her into staying. She believed she would meet people among the Lutherans
who lived in the manner about which she had heard read. And thus it pleased her that when she came to
Augsburg, around Candlemas. She was immediately taken in by Brother and Sister Siers, who kept her in
their house like a child, and every day let her enjoy a half hour of instruction with their children in how to
read. After two years had slipped away, she came to a sweet old widow who likewise treated [Marie] as
her own child. She also could not refuse [Marie] going to the awakened souls during the day, and she
lived like this until Br. George Schmid, the Capist, came to Augsburg, through whom she heard about the
Gemeine for the first time. From that hour on, she had no more peace in her heart because it seemed to
her that she belonged to the Gemeine. As she had now learned that a beginning was being made in
Marienborn, she wrote to the dear Jüngerin and discovered her order-which she made before her trip to
Pennsylvania-that this woman from Salzburg should be taken to Marienborn. As soon as she [Marie]
heard about this good embassy through Br. and Sr. Conrad Langen, she took her leave from the abovementioned widow, and arrived in Herrnhaag on August 3, 1740 with Br. and Sr. Lorenzen. She was taken
into the Gemeine in December of the same year, and in February 1741, she achieved Holy Communion
with the Gemeine for the first time. In this year she also received her instructions from the dear Jünger,
before his departure for Pennsylvania, that she should follow him [there] in the coming year.
Accordingly, she came to Bethlehem with a whole colony of Brethren on September 29, 1742. She was
the first Single Sister's Pflegerin in this land, but she had to travel here and there to serve her charges, or
choir-relatives, who were scattered around because at the time there were no Single Sisters in
Bethlehem. She did this with unflagging faithfulness and diligence, which work was blessed.
In the remarkable foundation that the Jünger made of mission and community matters in Bethlehem on
November 13, 1742, she was assigned to a mission group that, besides her, was comprised of Br. and Sr.
Kohn and Br. Gottlieb. The group moved through the land for several years and sought to serve the
Savior's purpose where ever it was. In the meantime, a small beginning was made in Bethlehem for a
nursery with a few little children, in which the man who is now her widower was employed. She was
bound to him in marriage as a faithful helpmeet in this important area. The blessed Br. Friedrich Weber
also came [to the nursery] at this time as a helper of Br. Christ. Werner with the little boys, and this dear
brother went to the heavenly Gemeine only one day before our Blessed Sister. As a true and faithful
mother she accepted this school with her whole heart, she was untiring by day and night, and often
relieved the other women-helpers on their watches when they were weak, although she sapped her own
bodily health in doing so. In January 1749, she moved with the nursery to Nazareth, and when in the
following year this institution was staffed with Single Sisters, she returned, with her husband, to
Bethlehem. She was already somewhat weak and infirm, and yet she could not refuse that service which
was meaningful to her-in the children's school, which was then in Oley-and so she moved there after a
short rest in Bethlehem. She served in the girl's school until it was dissolved in 1751, when she returned
to Bethlehem. She was then treated medically, and for several years faithfully given sweat-baths and
other good remedies. Because, however, certain fluids were clogged in the nerves, and because her
natural progress was hindered and could not be restored due to frequent colds and fatigue, she surrendered
to continual weakness of the body. Her fresh soul relieved much pain and supported the weak and infirm
mortal body. From that time forward, she used a cane to walk, and, although this became onerous and
severe, she attended the Gemeine celebrations quite often and was edifying and venerable to all the
Brethren as a miserable and yet active maiden of the Lord. Among the Sisters of her Choir she was
beloved and legitimated as a Helper and a diligent and loving spirit. In her marriage, she behaved and
developed as a worthy likeness of His spouse, and her now-widowed husband found much comfort and
encouragement in her. The sixteen-year course of this marriage was blessed with a little son who yearned
in his mortal body only a half year. She often wore the mantle of disciple with priestly dignity, in the
Gemeine as well as in the Married Person's Choir.
Her final sickness lasted nine weeks. Right at the beginning of her complete surrender, she said to her
husband, who often and in particular during this year had been ailing, "I have prayed to Savior that you
should not be sick, as long as I much lie here, so that you can wait with me," which came to pass. As she
lay there, she was a blessing and example to all those who visited her, with her patience, sincere
satisfaction, and beloved communion with the Man of Pain.
Her dearest verse, with which she sustained herself in this painful bed, was this: So I go into fluidity, that
He may love me, through all my time of death, until the wedding day. What I do, it nears, goes to his face
of death, etc. Oh! Be comforted and most delighted, etc. And until I can remain laying on the neck of my
Husband, etc. And with that I will close, the hand to which I go will hold me, until I see him myself, and
more like it.
She suffered with an exhausting hemorrhage, until at last one came which sapped her life's essence and
strength ever more so that she laid there like a pure skeleton, but appeared truly venerable. Two days
before her passing she said to her husband: "My bruises hurt me very much this night, and it came to mehow many wounds did my Savior have, as He was whipped, and then hung on the Cross. And yet I lie
here on a good bed!" The last morning she had a gentle nap, three hours long. When she awoke, she
said, "Oh how gently and blessedly I have rested, now I have assurance from my Savior that my dear hour
will soon chime." This event blessedly followed today, August 12, around noon, under an incomparable
liturgy from Br. Joseph, through which she also received the blessing of the Gemeine and her Choir, after
she had brought her mortal life to 48 years, seven months, two weeks, and five days.
Transcription and translation by Katherine E. Carté
http://bdhp.moravian.edu/personal_papers/memoirs/werner/werner.html
Our late sister Magdalene [1731-1820] has left the following account of herself.
I was the property of the late Mr. Prontis who bought me when about 10 years old. In his family I
remained for a number of years.
My master being anxious for the salvation of my soul and perceiving that it was necessary to preserve me
from the temptation by which I was surrounded [?] proposed to me to go to Bethlehem but I had no
inclination to accede to the proposal; on the contrary I begged him, rather to sell me to another person;
and was too much attached to the world and its enjoyments.
He however persuaded me at least to make a trial–as he was assured I would experience kind treatment–
and promised me at the same time that if I was not contented — he would at any time receive me back
again. (p. 1)
On my arrival here I experienced such a friendly reception from the ministers of the congregation, and the
Brethren and Sisters, that I was quite overcome by it. I soon obtained permission to remain here. My
conduct was in the beginning very unbecoming; in short I determined to act in an improper manner from
the hope that they would thereby be induced to send me back however this was not the case. The love of
the Brethren, Sisters, and especially the loving kindness and mercy of our Saviour presented [?] what I at
that time began to experience - prevented my leaving them voluntarily. Some time after this my master
having visited me and give me his blessing and permission to remain here I became contented and happy.
(p. 2)
The Saviour who came to me and saw that which was lost now looked in mercy upon my poor soul which
was so deeply mark[ed] in the misery and slavery of sin, that before this I never could think - that I should
be redeemed from it - was comforting me. Then these words - Jesus has died for thee also, on the cross to redeem thee from sin. By faith I embraced him as my Saviour and received the assurance of the
forgiveness of my sins.
Thus far her own account.
May the 19, 1748 she was baptized unto the death of Jesus and became a communicant on Jan. 26, 1749.
Jan 21, 1762 she was married to the Negro Brother Andrew. Their marriage was blessed with 2 sons who
both entered eternity before her. (p. 3)
Her husband departed this life March 20, 1779. Till the end She enjoyed unhampered health till the last.
About 10 days ago she was seemingly attacked by sickness and it soon became evident, that this would be
the cause of her dismission. Accordingly on the 3rd of January the departed this life aged 89 years. (p. 4)
Source: http://bdhp.moravian.edu/personal_papers/memoirs/magdalene/magdalene.html
Lebenslauf of the widowed Sister Catharine Huber, who blessedly passed away in Bethlehem on
January 29, 1798, set down by her daughter, Sister Anna Boehler.
Catharine Huber born Budmenski was born November 18, 1703, in Seitendorff, Moravia, and was the
only daughter of her dear parents, whose excellent love and care she enjoyed, and was also urged to learn
very young. Her mother promised her that as soon as she learned to read, she would give her a pretty
book, which would be for her alone to use. This created in her such a desire to learn that soon she could
read quickly and proficiently. Then her mother had to keep her promise to give her a beautiful book,
(which was a Bible that the mother always kept hidden, because it could not be noticed by the father, as
he believed that they were all as good Catholics as he). She always tried, when he was not at home, to put
the book to use, and her Mother always looked for such places that were the most impressive to her. She
soon received such a taste for it that she wanted to read almost no other book. This was a secret from her
father and brother, as she normally spent all idle hours reading. Yet, he became mistrustful towards her
mother and reproached her: She would become a heretic with her daughter. He seldom allowed her to
remain at home when he went to the church, (which time she often used to read in the Bible); and always
took her along—at least he never left the two of them alone. The mother often cried and said, 'Ah! If
only I knew a little corner in the desert, where I could bring about the salvation of my soul without
constraints on the conscience. Oh! Child," she sometimes said 'If I were as free as you are, I would
wander through the world, seeking out true children of God." Often she fell on her knees and prayed with
many tears to God to enlighten her and her daughter, and to send someone to them who would teach them
the way to everlasting life. This made such an impression on her [Catharine's] heart, that she had no
peace, day or night. But she could not let this be noticed by her father, because he was bitterly against
people leaving their fatherland, and called those that came into the land lure people seducers, and there
was no lack of threats, should someone from his family have the gall to take such a step. The mother
tried to soften him as well as she could, the more that she was convinced of the earnestness and longing of
her daughter, the more she tried to sooth the father and support the daughter; she brought it to the point
that he became more favorably inclined towards them, and no longer kept them under such strict
supervision. She then used this freedom, and got more acquainted with such people who were in similar
circumstances, and prayed ardently to God that He would help her out of the dark land; and thus she
passed her youth in constant longing and hope; until in the twenty-first year, when she came to the
resolution to leave everything, and seek out children of God. No one could come with her, because her
father's strictness was well known to people. She revealed her plans to her mother, who responded to her:
'Say nothing to me, I can neither help you nor advise you; when your father misses you, I will get to enjoy
it[.] But do what you think, if your soul is to be saved, then I can not and do not desire to hinder you,
should it cost me my life." She waited, then, for the feast of All Saints. She made as if she wanted to go
to Mass, and set out on her way on November 1, 1725, without saying a word to her mother, and with
firm trust in God, that He would stay by her. It was a bright day, when she left; as she came to a high
mountain, she looked on the village one last time, and she saw the people coming out of the church. Then
fear took hold of her that her father would come after her violently; she fell to her knees, prayed and cried
all the more to the Dear God to help her out of this terror. She stood up and hurried as best she could. In
an hour, the sky became overcast, and soon after it snowed so hard that one could only see a few steps
ahead. She received strength and traveled the whole night and the following day, until she finally came to
Niederwiese, where the people received her very kindly. After they had learned the reason for her
journey, they directed her to Master Schwedler. He looked at her very sharply and said, 'What ever made
you do it, to leave your parents and friends so young?" She answered, 'I am looking for a people, where I
can became certain of the salvation of my soul, without religious constraint. That prompted me to risk
everything," and she told him then her whole story. To this he answered, 'If that is your true reason, then
you will succeed in it, and told her how poor and miserably she would have to nourish herself in
Herrnhut. She replied, she would notice nothing, if she could only find rest for her soul. With that, he
gave her a writ of recommendation to the blessed Count von Zinzendorf, and said, 'God be with you."
She came next to Herrnhut, and was lovingly taken in, and not long after was married to her first husband,
Friedrich Riedel. Her father did not rest, until he found her out, and sent her brother along with a few
other men to bring her back. When they saw, however, that all efforts were for naught, they left again,
and left them alone. But her dear mother had much to endure, [Catharine] had her brother relay to [her
mother], that if she could make it possible, she should come to her, that she had found such people as they
had wished; after several months, she had the joy of seeing her mother arrive in Herrnhut; not long after
which she blessedly passed away. My dear mother had to survive in the most extreme misery, but she
often said, 'Such a peace of God surrounded me, that nothing became difficult for me, rather was a
blessing to me among these dear people. The duty of sick-watcher was assigned to me, and the Savior
helped me especially mercifully, even in the most difficult times that sometimes came to pass, when it
sometimes seemed that the little village would be destroyed again, as is known in the history of the
Brethren." On the so blessed August 13, 1727, when the Dear Savior showered the Gemeine in
Berthelsdorf with such a powerful mercy, she went for the first time to the Holy Abendmahl. She could
never remember this time without gratitude. In 1735, she received a call to go to Georgia, which her dear
husband departed for with the first Brethren. She followed him first the next year. She had a difficult trip
of twenty-one weeks, but when she arrived in Georgia, her dear husband had already gone home [passed
away]; the two children from this marriage both died in Herrnhut. She was transported into a state of
widowhood. After some time, she was married to Br. Peter Rose, with whom she moved among the
Creek Indians in an Indian city, to take on them and their children. In the beginning, they made a good
start; they had some difficult trials, but they also experienced the evident help of the Savior. To mention
only once: when the school was over, her husband often traveled on the Savannah [River] to the city, and
it sometimes happened that he stayed out overnight. She was thus totally alone in their house among the
savage, drunken people, and they raged around the house so that she was often truly in mortal danger.
She pleaded to the Savior for help; soon there came an old Indian, who always stayed in the house and
could speak English. He called to her to open the door. At first, she did not know whether she dared to
trust him, in the end she risked it, however, and opened the door. Then, he came to her and guarded her,
which he afterwards always did, when she was alone or in danger, so that she looked on him as her
guardian angel.
She lived a couple years there, until the war's disturbances began, and one part of the Brethren traveled to
Europe, the other to Pennsylvania. She then moved with her husband to Germantown, where he blessedly
passed away in March 1740. This marriage was blessed with three daughters, of whom one went home in
Georgia and another was married to Br. Bader in Jamaica and when home there. She lived a couple more
years in Germantown with two small children. Then the blessed Count Zinzendorf came to the land. He
found her, comforted and encouraged her, as she had become nearly despondent. When she remembered
that time, she always attributed to the indescribable faith of the Savior that He had kept her with His
people. When the Gemeine in Bethlehem was founded, she was there with her children, and was
afterwards sealed as Gemein Elder by the blessed Jünger, and soon after she was bound by him in holy
marriage with Br. Johan Michael Huber. They then served with one another in various ways and means,
in sometimes in Nazareth and sometimes in Bethlehem, now as Pfleger, now as Vorsteher, and also as
leaders of the children, until her husband received a call to go on a visitation to the West Indian islands,
through which she was transferred into widowhood a third time. No one could ever learn anything about
the ship on which he departed. This marriage was blessed with two children.
A few years later, she moved to Nazareth as Vorsteherin of the Widows-Choir, and had particular
oversight of the children's schools that were there at that time. She preformed this service for several
years, as well as the particular care of the sick. Because they had no doctor in the place, she had to treat
the sick with medicines, except in dangerous cases, when they had the doctor come from Bethlehem. She
often explained, when she thought back, 'that the Savior had helped her through wonderfully, and that she
had truly sometimes experienced his help visibly." — She was finally relieved [of her duties] by Brother
and Sister Graff from Europe, and received a call to Bethlehem as Vorsteherin and Helferin of the
Widows Choir (the former she performed for many years with the blessed Br. Mattheus Schropp with
unfailing faithfulness). A part of the Widows Choir moved in a few years to Nazareth, She, however,
stayed in Bethlehem in her duties; she had great support from Brother and Sister Spangenberg, because
they particularly took on the care of her dear widows, which lay on her heart. After Gnadenhütten was
burned and the war's unrest came again, she was relieved from her duties as Vorsteher by Brother and
Sister Martin Mack, and then moved again to Nazareth as Choir Helfer and Vorsteher of the Widows.
After the blessed Sister Werwig came from Europe, the Choir Helfer duties were given to her.
[Catharine] remained active where she could, until her dear Widows Choir moved into its new Choir
House in Bethlehem, where she was again very busy. She then moved to Nazareth again, and remained in
her former duties for several more years, until she was called to Bethlehem once again and had to take
over the midwifery duties here. Here she spent her time most happily, in hopes that her Sabbath Day now
approached. She showed herself yet willing, however, to server where one needed her help. In the year
1772, she traveled for several months to Philadelphia, and had the pleasure of seeing and caring for her
first little grandchild. Several years later, she moved to Hope where her son was. There she had a hard
sickness to endure; when she was better, she longed deeply to move back to Bethlehem again. The dear
Br. Ettwein visited her in her sickness, and was a help to her, for which she could never thank him
enough. She devoted her heart to the Gemeine and Choir meetings as long as her strength allowed, and
took great interest in all occurrences in all the Gemeine, and particularly in her children and grandchildren
(these latter gave her much pleasure and joy). She recently explained to a friend, 'I have held every
position in the Gemeine, from the greatest to the smallest, nothing was too great to me, nothing too small;
what help it was to me, when I didn't know, and learned that I had found that ground, where my anchor
would forever hold. I have not longed for anything, neither for good days nor for honor, rather my
constant attention was to live for my Redeemer, and to serve Him, wherever occasion was found." Now
my constant plea and entreaty answered, to be at home by the Lord. She tearfully longed for this,
particularly in the last years, and could not image anything more comfortable than that she should
suddenly go home in the night.
In the last year, she had much to endure from a bad leg, and great weakness, so that she could hardly go
out any more. She retained her active spirit, however, until the 21st of this [month], when it was as if she
met with a blow. She laid on the bed, and looked forward to midday when she would see her son and
grandchild, and from then on she laid completely still, and took no more notice. One could not see that
she had to endure great pain. Some home-going liturgies were held by her bed, by which a very blessed
feeling could be felt; on January 29th, she passed away very gently and blessedly, under the blessing of
the Gemeine and her choir, in the 95th year of her life.
She had seven children, five of whom preceded her into eternity, that is, one son and four daughters. One
son and one daughter are still living, from whom she lived to see seven grandchildren, of which five are
still living, and all are with the Gemeine.
Transcription & translation by Katherine E. Carté.
http://bdhp.moravian.edu/personal_papers/memoirs/huber/huber.html
DOCUMENT 36
Ben Franklin had alternatively been portrayed as pro-feminist or a sexist depending on the sources cited.
How do you reconcile the seeming contradictory viewsapparent in the following public and private
documents from the 1740s?
Benjamin Franklin, Advice to a Young Man on the Choice of a Mistress (1745).
June 25, 1745
My dear Friend,
I know of no Medicine fit to diminish the violent natural Inclinations you mention; and if I did, I think I
should not communicate it to you. Marriage is the proper Remedy. It is the most natural State of Man, and
therefore the State in which you are most likely to find solid Happiness. Your Reasons against entering
into it at present, appear to me not well-founded. The circumstantial Advantages you have in View by
postponing it, are not only uncertain, but they are small in comparison with that of the Thing itself, the
being married and settled. It is the Man and Woman united that make the compleat human Being.
Separate, she wants his Force of Body and Strength of Reason; he, her Softness, Sensibility and acute
Discernment. Together they are more likely to succeed in the World. A single Man has not nearly the
Value he would have in that State of Union. He is an incomplete Animal. He resembles the odd Half of a
Pair of Scissars. If you get a prudent healthy Wife, your Industry in your Profession, with her good
Economy, will be a Fortune sufficient.
But if you will not take this Counsel, and persist in thinking a Commerce with the Sex inevitable, then I
repeat my former Advice, that in all your Amours you should prefer old Women to young ones. You call
this a Paradox, and demand my Reasons. They are these:
i. Because as they have more Knowledge of the World and their Minds are better stor'd with
Observations, their Conversation is more improving and more lastingly agreable.
2. Because when Women cease to be handsome, they study to be good. To maintain their Influence over
Men, they supply the Diminution of Beauty by an Augmentation of Utility. They learn to do a 1000
Services small and great, and are the most tender and useful of all Friends when you are sick. Thus they
continue amiable. And hence there is hardly such a thing to be found as an old Woman who is not a good
Woman.
3. Because there is no hazard of Children, which irregularly produc'd may be attended with much
Inconvenience.
4. Because thro' more Experience, they are more prudent and discreet in conducting an Intrigue to prevent
Suspicion. The Commerce with them is therefore safer with regard to your Reputation. And with regard to
theirs, if the Affair should happen to be known, considerate People might be rather inclin'd to excuse an
old Woman who would kindly take care of a young Man, form his Manners by her good Counsels, and
prevent his ruining his Health and Fortune among mercenary Prostitutes.
5. Because in every Animal that walks upright, the Deficiency of the Fluids that fill the Muscles appears
first in the highest Part: The Face first grows lank and wrinkled; then the Neck; then the Breast and Arms;
the lower Parts continuing to the last as plump as ever: So that covering all above with a Basket, and
regarding2 only what is below the Girdle, it is impossible of two Women to know an old from a young
one. And as in the dark all Cats are grey, the Pleasure of corporal Enjoyment with an old Woman is at
least equal, and frequently superior, every Knack being by Practice capable of Improvement.
6. Because the Sin is less. The debauching a Virgin may be her Ruin, and make her for Life unhappy.
7. Because the Compunction is less. The having made a young Girl miserable may give you frequent
bitter Reflections; none of which can attend the making an old Woman happy.
8thly and Lastly They are so grateful!!
Thus much for my Paradox. But still I advise you to marry directly; being sincerely Your affectionate
Friend.
...
The Speech of Miss Polly Baker
Benjamin Franklin
April 15, 1747
The SPEECH of Miss Polly Baker, before a Court of Judicature, at Connecticut in New England, where
she was prosecuted the fifth Time for having a Bastard Child; which influenced the Court to dispense
with her Punishment, and induced one of her Judges to marry her the next Day.
May it please the Honourable Bench to indulge me a few Words: I am a poor unhappy Woman; who have
no Money to Fee Lawyers to plead for me, being hard put to it to get a tolerable Living. I shall not trouble
your Honours with long Speeches; for I have not the presumption to expect, that you may, by any Means,
be prevailed on to deviate in your Sentence from the Law, in my Favour. All I humbly hope is, that your
Honours would charitably move the Governor’s Goodness on my Behalf, that my Fine may be remitted.
This is the Fifth Time, Gentlemen, that I have been dragg’d before your Courts on the same Account;
twice I have paid heavy Fines, and twice have been brought to public Punishment, for want of Money to
pay those Fines. This may have been agreeable to the Laws; I do not dispute it: But since Laws are
sometimes unreasonable in themselves, and therefore repealed; and others bear too hard on the Subject in
particular Circumstances; and therefore there is left a Power somewhere to dispense with the Execution of
them; I take the Liberty to say, that I think this Law, by which I am punished, is both unreasonable in
itself, and particularly severe with regard to me, who have always lived an inoffensive Life in the
Neighbourhood where I was born, and defy my Enemies (if I have any) to say I ever wrong’d Man,
Woman, or Child. Abstracted from the Law, I cannot conceive (may it please your Honours) what the
Nature of my Offence is. I have brought Five fine Children into the World, at the Risque of my Life: I
have maintained them well by my own Industry, without burthening the Township, and could have done
it better, if it had not been for the heavy Charges and Fines I have paid. Can it be a Crime (in the Nature
of Things I mean) to add to the Number of the King’s Subjects, in a new Country that really wants
People? I own I should think it rather a Praise worthy, than a Punishable Action. I have debauch’d no
other Woman’s Husband, nor inticed any innocent Youth: These Things I never was charged with; nor
has any one the least cause of Complaint against me, unless, perhaps the Minister, or the Justice, because
I have had Children without being Married, by which they have miss’d a Wedding Fee. But, can even this
be a Fault of mine? I appeal to your Honours. You are pleased to allow I don’t want Sense; but I must be
stupid to the last Degree, not to prefer the honourable State of Wedlock, to the Condition I have lived in. I
always was, and still am, willing to enter into it; I doubt not my Behaving well in it, having all the
Industry, Frugality, Fertility, and Skill in Oeconomy, appertaining to a good Wife’s Character. I defy any
Person to say I ever Refused an Offer of that Sort: On the contrary, I readily Consented to the only
Proposal of Marriage that ever was made me, which was when I was a Virgin; but too easily confiding in
the Person’s Sincerity that made it, I unhappily lost my own Honour, by trusting to his; for he got me with
Child, and then forsook me: That very Person you all know; he is now become a Magistrate of this
County; and I had hopes he would have appeared this Day on the Bench, and have endeavoured to
moderate the Court in my Favour; then I should have scorn’d to have mention’d it; but I must Complain
of it as unjust and unequal, that my Betrayer and Undoer, the first Cause of all my Faults and
Miscarriages (if they must be deemed such) should be advanced to Honour and Power, in the same
Government that punishes my Misfortunes with Stripes and Infamy. I shall be told, ’tis like, that were
there no Act of Assembly in the Case, the Precepts of Religion are violated by my Transgressions. If
mine, then, is a religious Offence, leave it, Gentlemen, to religious Punishments. You have already
excluded me from all the Comforts of your Church Communion: Is not that sufficient? You believe I have
offended Heaven, and must suffer eternal Fire: Will not that be sufficient? What need is there, then, of
your additional Fines and Whippings? I own, I do not think as you do; for, if I thought, what you call a
Sin, was really such, I would not presumptuously commit it. But how can it be believed, that Heaven is
angry at my having Children, when, to the little done by me towards it, God has been pleased to add his
divine Skill and admirable Workmanship in the Formation of their Bodies, and crown’d it by furnishing
them with rational and immortal Souls? Forgive me Gentlemen, if I talk a little extravagantly on these
Matters; I am no Divine: But if you, great Men, (*) must be making Laws, do not turn natural and useful
Actions into Crimes, by your Prohibitions. Reflect a little on the horrid Consequences of this Law in
particular: What Numbers of procur’d Abortions! and how many distress’d Mothers have been driven, by
the Terror of Punishment and public Shame, to imbrue, contrary to Nature, their own trembling Hands in
the Blood of their helpless Offspring! Nature would have induc’d them to nurse it up with a Parent’s
Fondness. ’Tis the Law therefore, ’tis the Law itself that is guilty of all these Barbarities and Murders.
Repeal it then, Gentlemen; let it be expung’d for ever from your Books: And on the other hand, take into
your wise Consideration, the great and growing Number of Batchelors in the Country, many of whom,
from the mean Fear of the Expence of a Family, have never sincerely and honourably Courted a Woman
in their Lives; and by their Manner of Living, leave unproduced (which I think is little better than
Murder) Hundreds of their Posterity to the Thousandth Generation. Is not theirs a greater Offence against
the Public Good, than mine? Compel them then, by a Law, either to Marry, or pay double the Fine of
Fornication every Year. What must poor young Women do, whom Custom has forbid to sollicit the Men,
and who cannot force themselves upon Husbands, when the Laws take no Care to provide them any, and
yet severely punish if they do their Duty without them? Yes, Gentlemen, I venture to call it a Duty; ’tis
the Duty of the first and great Command of Nature, and of Nature’s God, Increase and multiply: A Duty,
from the steady Performance of which nothing has ever been able to deter me; but for it’s Sake, I have
hazarded the Loss of the public Esteem, and frequently incurr’d public Disgrace and Punishment; and
therefore ought, in my humble Opinion, instead of a Whipping, to have a Statue erected to my Memory.
(*) Turning to some Gentlemen of the Assembly, then in Court.
Source: The Maryland Gazette, August 11, 1747; first printed April 15, 1747
DOCUMENT 37
Elizabeth Ashbridge (1713–1755) was described as a girl with a “wild and airy” temperament only to
convert in later years to the sobriety of a typical Quaker. Born in England, Ashbridge eloped at fourteen
only to be widowed five months later. After being disowned by her family and staying temporarily with
relatives in Ireland, she sailed for America as an indentured servant, arriving in New York in July, 1732.
The following excerpt from her autobiography describes her life as she traveled from Long Island to visit
relatives in Philadelphia. Her shaky marriage to her second husband was made all the more stormy by
her conversion to Quakerism and abrupt “born-again” change in personality. Upon her second
husband’s death, she remarried a Quaker, (Aaron Ashbridge), became a zealous missionary, and died
while visiting Quakers in England and Ireland.
...
When I came to Trent-town Ferry, I felt no small mortification on hearing that my relations were all
Quakers, and, what was worst of all, that my aunt was a preacher. I was exceedingly prejudiced against
this people, and often wondered how they could call themselves Christians. I repented my coming, and
was almost inclined to turn back; yet, as I was so far on my journey, I proceeded, though I expected but
little comfort from my visit, How little was I aware it would bring me to the knowledge of the truth !
I went from Trent-town to Philadelphia by water, and from thence to my uncle’s on horseback. My uncle
was dead, and my aunt married again; yet, both she and her husband received me in the kindest manner. I
had scarcely been three hours in the house, before my opinion of these people began to alter. I perceived a
book lying upon the table, and, being fond of reading, took it up; my aunt observed me, and said,
“Cousin, that is a Quaker’s book.‘” She saw I was not a Quaker, and supposed I would not like it. I made
her no answer, but queried with myself, what can these people write about ? I have heard that they deny
the scriptures, and have no other bible than George Fox’s Journal,— denying, also, all the holy
ordinances. But, before I had read two pages, my heart burned within me, and, for fear I should be seen, I
went into the garden. 1 sat down, and, as the piece was short, read it before I returned, though I was often
obliged to stop to give vent to my years. The fulness of my heart produced the involuntary exclamation
of, “My God, must I, if ever I come to the knowledge of thy truth, be of this man’s opinion, who has
sought thee as I have done; and must I join this people, to whom, a few hours ago, 1 preferred the papists.
O, thou God of my salvation, and of my life; who hath abundantly manifested thy long suffering and
tender mercy, in redeeming me as from the lowest hell, I beseech thee to direct use in the right way, and
keep me from error; so will I perform my covenant, and think nothing too near to part with for thy name’s
sake. O, happy peoples thus beloved of God!” Alter having collected myself, I washed my face, that it
might not be perceived I had been weeping. In the night I got but little sleep; the enemy of mankind
haunted me with his insinuations, by suggesting that I was one of those that wavered, and not steadfast in
faith; and advancing several texts of scripture against me, as that, in the latter days, there should be those
who would deceive the very elect; that of such were the people I was among, and that 1 was in danger of
being deluded. Warned in this manner, (from the right source as I thought,) 1 resolved to be aware of
those deceivers, and for some weeks did not touch one of their books. The next day, being the first of the
week, I was desirous of going to church, which was distant about four miles; buts being a stran-ger, and
having no one to go with me, I gave up all thoughts of that and, as most of the family were going to
meeting, I went there with them. As we sat in silence, I looked over the meeting, and said to myself,
"How like fools these people sit; how much better would it be to stay at home, and read the Bible, or
some good book, than come here and go to sleep.’' As for me I was very drow-sy; and, while asleep, had
nearly fallen down. This was the last time I ever fell asleep in a meeting. I now began to be lifted up with
spiritual pride, and to think myself bet-ter than they; but this disposition of mind did not last long. It may
seem strange that, after living so long with one of this society at Dublin, I should yet be so much a
stranger to them. In answer, let it be considered that, while I was there, I never read any of their books nor
went to one, meeting; besides, I had heard such accounts of them, as made me think that, of all societies,
they were the worst. But he who knows the sincerity of the heart, looked on my weakness with pity; I was
permitted to see my error, and shown that these were the people I ought to join.
A few weeks afterwards, there was an after-noon meeting at my uncle’s, at which a minister named
William Hammans was present. I was highly prejudiced against him when he stood up, but I was soon
humbled; for he preached the gospel with such power that I was obliged to confess it was the truth. But,
though he was the instrument of assisting me out of many doubts, my mind was not wholly freed from
them. The morning before this meeting I had been disputing with my uncle about baptisms which was the
subject handled by this minister, who removed all my scruples beyond objection, and yet I seemed loath
to believe that the sermon I had heard proceeded from divine revelation. 1 accused my aunt and uncle of
having spoken of me to the friend; but they cleared themselves, by telling me, that they had not seen him,
since my coming, until he came into the meeting. I then viewed him as the messenger of God to me, and,
laying aside my prejudices, opened; the beauty of which was shown to me, with the glory of those who
continued faithful to it. I had also revealed to me the emptiness of all sha-dows and types, which, though
proper in. their day, were now, by the coming of the Son of God, at an end, and everlasting righteousness, which is a work in the heart, was to be established in the room thereof, I was permitted to see
that all I had gone through was to prepare me for this day; and that the time was near, when it would be
required of me, to go and declare to others what the God of mercy had done for my soul; at which I was
surprised, and desired to be excused lest I should bring dishonour, to the truth, and cause his holy name to
be evil spoken of.
Of these things I let no one know. I fear-ed discovery and did not even appear like a friend.
I now hired to keep school, and, hearing of a place for my husband, I wrote, and de-sired him to come,
though I did not let him know how it was with me.
I loved to go to meetings, but did not love to be seen going on week-days, and therefore went to them.
from my school, through the woods. Notwithstanding all my care, the neighbours, (who were not friends,)
soon be-gan to revile me with the name of Quaker; adding, that they supposed I intended to be a fool, and
turn preacher. Thus did I re-ceive the same censure, which, about a year before, I had passed on one of the
handmaids of the Lord in Boston. I was so weak, that I could hot bear the reproach. In order to change
their opinion, I went into greater ex-cess of apparel than I, had freedom to do, even before I became
acquainted with friends. In this condition I continued till my husband came, and then began the trial of my
faith.
Before he reached me, he heard I was turned Quaker; at which he stamped, and said, “I had rather have
heard she was dead, Well as I love her; for, if it be so, all my comfort is gone. He then came to me; it was
after an absence of four months; I got up and said to him, ”My dear, I am glad to see thee.“ At this, he
flew into a great rage, exclaiming, ”The devil thee, thee, thee, don’t thee me“ I endeavoured, by every
mild means, to pa-cify him; and, at length, got him fit to speak to my relations. As soon after this as we
were alone, he said to me, ”And so I see your Quaker relations have, made you one;" I replied, that they
had not, (which was true,) I never told them how it was with me. He said he would not stay amongst
them; and, having found a place to his mind, hired, and came directly back to fetch me, walking in one;
afternoon, thirty miles to keep me from meeting the next day, which was first day. He took me, after
resting this day, to the place where he had hired, and to lodgings he had engaged: at the house of a
churchwarden. This man was a bitter enemy of Friends, and did all he could to irritate my husband against
them.
Though I did not appear like a friend, they all believed me to be one. When my hus-band and he used to
be making their diver-sions and reviling, I sat in silence, though now and then; an involuntary sigh broke
from me; at which he would say, “There, did not I tell you your wife was a Quaker, and she will become a
preacher.” On such an occa-sion as this, my husband once came up to me, in a great rage, and shaking his
hand over me, said, “You had better be hanged in that day.” I was seized with horror, and again plunged
into despair, which continued nearly three months. I was afraid that, by denying the Lord, the heavens
would be shut against me. I walked much alone in the woods, and there, where no eye saw, or ear heard
me, lamented my miserable condition. Often have I wandered, from morning till night, without food, I
was brought so low that my life became a burden to me; and the devil seemed to vaunt that, though the
sins of my youth were forgiven me, yet now I had committed an unpardonable sin, and hell would
inevitably be my portion, and my torments would be greater than if I had hanged myself at first.
In the night, when, under this painful dis-tress of mind, I could not sleep, if my hus-band perceived me
weeping, he would revile me for it. At length, when he and his friend thought themselves too weak to
overset me, he went to the priest at Chester, to inquire what he could do with me. This man knew I was a
member of the Church, for I had shown him my certificate. His advice was, to take me out of
Pennsylvania, and settle in some place where there were no Quakers. My husband replied, he did not care
where we went, if he could but restore me to my natural liveliness of temper. As for me, I had no
resolution to oppose their proposals nor much cared where I went. I seemed to have nothing to hope for. I
daily expected to be made a victim of divine wrath, and was possessed with the idea that this would be by
thunder.
When the time of removal came, I was not permitted to bid my relations farewell; and, as my husband
was poor, and kept no horse, I was obliged to travel on foot. We came to Wilmington, fifteen miles, and
from thence to Philadelphia by water. Here we stopt at a tavern, where I became the spectacle and
discourse of the company. My husband told them his wife had become a Quaker; and he designed; if
possible, to find out a place where there was none: (thought I,) I was once in a condition to deserve that
name, but now it is over with me. O that I might, from a true hope, once more have an oppor-tunity to
confess the truth; though I was sure of all manner of cruelties, I would not regard them. Such were my
concerns, while he was entertaining the company with my story, in which he told them that I had been a
good dancer, but now he could get me nei-ther to dance or sing. One of the company then started ups and
said, “I’ll fetch a fiddle, and we’ll have a good dance;” a proposal with which my husband was pleased.
When the fiddle was brought, my husband came and said to me, “My dear, shake off that gloom, and let
us have a civil dance; you would, now and then, when you were a good churchwoman, and that’s better
than a stiff Quaker,” I had taken up the reso-lution not to comply with his request, what-ever might be the
consequence; this I let him know, though I durst say little, for fear of his choleric temper. He pulled me
round the room, till the tears fell from my eyes, at the sight of which the musician stopt, and said “I’ll
play no more; let your wife alone.”
…
Finding that all the means he had yet used could not alter my resolutions, he several times struck me with
severe blows. I endeavoured to bear all with patience, believing that the time would come when he would
see I was in the right. Once he came up to me, took out his penknife, and said, “If you offer to go to
meeting to-morrow, with this knife I’ll cripple you; for you shall not be a Quaker.” I made hint no answer.
In the morning, I set out as usual; he did not attempt to harm me. Having despaired of recovering me
himself, he fled, for help, to the priest, whom he told, that I had been a very religious woman, in the way
of the Church of England, of which I was a member, and had a good certificate from Long Island; that I
was now bewitched, and had turned Quaker, which almost broke his heart; and, therefore, he de-sired
that, as he was one who had the cure of souls, he would come and pay me a visit, and use his endeavours
to reclaim me, which he hoped, by the blessing of God, would be done. The priest consented, and fixed
the time for his coming, which was that day two weeks, as he said he could not come sooner. My husband
came home extremely pleased, and told me of it. I replied, with a smile, I trusted I should be enabled to
give a reason for the hope within me; yet I believed, at the same time, that the priest would never trouble
himself about me, which proved to be the case. Before the day he appointed came, it was required of me,
in a more public man-ner, to confess to the world what I was. I felt myself called to give up to prayer in
meeting. I trembled, and would freely have given up my life to be excused. What rendered the required
service harder on me was, that I was not yet taken under the care of friends; and was kept from requesting
to be so, for fear I should bring a scandal on the society. I begged to be excused till I had joined, and then
I would give up freely. The answer was, “I am a covenant-keeping God, and the word that I spake to thee,
when I found thee in distress, even that I would never for-sake thee, if thou wouldst be obedient to what I
should make known unto thee, I will assuredly make good. If thou refusest, my spirit shall not always
strive. Fear not, I will make way for thee through all thy difficulties, which shall be many, for my name’s
sake; but, be faithful, and I will give thee a crown of life.” To this language I answered “Thy will, O God,
be done; I am in thy hand, do with me according to thy word;” and I then prayed.
This day, as usual, I had gone to meeting on foot. While my husband (as he afterwards told me) was lying
on the bed, these words crossed his mind “Lord, where shall I fly to shun thee,” &c. upon which he arose,
and, seeing it rain, got the horse and set off to fetch me, arriving just as the meet-ing broke up. I got on
horseback as quickly as possible, lest he should hear I had been speaking; he did hear of it nevertheless,
and, as soon as we were in the woods, began with saying, “Why do you mean thus to make my life
unhappy? What, could you not be a Quaker, without turning fool in this manner?” I answered in tears,
“My dear, look on me with pity, if thou hast any; canst thou think that I, in the bloom of my days, would
bear all that thou knowest of, and much that thou knowest not of, if I did not feel it my duty.” These
words touched him, and he said, “Well, I’ll e’en give you up; I see it wont avail to strive; if it be of God I
cannot overthrow it; and, if of yourself, it will soon fall.” I saw the tears stand in his eyes, at which I was
overcome with joy, and began already to reap the fruits of my obedience. But my trials were not yet over.
Source: Elizabeth Ashbridge, , Some Account of the Early Part of the Life of Elizabeth Ashbridge (Philadelphia: H. and T. Kite, 1807), 26–36,
44–47.
DOCUMENT 38
Bastardy became a serious concern in Colonial Maryland in the early 1750s, so much so that the
proprietary government took steps to facilitate the speedy prosecution of the proliferation of cases at the
local level. What measures did they take?
No. 2 An Act directing the Manner of punishing Fornication and Adultery
before a single Justice of the Peace, out of Court. Whereas it is found by
Experience, that much Time is taken up in carrying on Prosecutions
against Persons committing Fornication and Adultery, to the great Delay
Liber B. L. C. [Preamble.]
of the other Criminal, as well as the Civil, Business, which is much increased
of late.
Be it therefore Enacted by the Right Honourable the Lord Proprietor, by
and with the Advice and Consent of his Lordship's President, and the
Upper and Lower Houses of Assembly, and the Authority of the same,
That from and after the first Day of October next, it shall and may be
lawful for any Justice of the Peace, in the County where any white Bastard
Child shall be born, and such Justice is hereby required, upon
Information had thereof, to issue his Warrant, directed to some Constable
of the said County, against the Mother of such Bastard Child, and also
and also against the Father of such Child, upon Oath made by the Mother
of the said Child, to cause the Mother and reputed Father of the said Bastard,
or either of them, to be brought before him, or some other Justice of the Peace
for the said County, to answer the same and upon Confession thereof made
by the Mother and reputed Father of such Bastard Child, or either of them,
to proceed to fine such Mother and reputed Father, or either of them, if
for Adultery, the Sum of Five Pounds, Current Money, or Eight Hundred
Pounds of Tobacco; and if for Fornication only, the Sum of Thirty Shillings
Current Money, or Two hundred and forty Pounds of Tobacco; as the Case
May happen: But if such Mother and reputed Father, or either of them,
shall deny the Charge, that then and in such Case the Justice shall not proceed
to Judgment thereon, but shall bind over by Recognizance such Mother and
reputed Father, or either of them, to the County Court to be held next for the
said County, to answer the Charge aforesaid, to be there tried according to the
due Course and Order of Law; any Thing in this Act to the contrary in any wise
notwithstanding.
[Justices to issue Warrants to
bring before them the Parents
of Bastard Children.]
[Fines on Adultery and
Fornication.]
And be it further Enacted, That in case any Mother of a Bastard Child shall
refuse to discover the Father as aforesaid, then she shall, over and above the
over and above the Fine aforesaid for her own Offence, be fined by the Justice
by the Justice aforesaid, or County Court, as the Case may happen, in a
summary Way, the further Sum of Thirty Shillings Current Money, or two
hundred and Forty Pounds of Tobacco, and be ordered and adjudged by the
Justice aforesaid, or by the County Court, as the Case may happen, to give
good Security to keep such Bastard Child from becoming a Charge to the
County; and for Want of such Security, she shall by the said Justice, or by
The County Court, as the Case may happen, be committed to the public Goal
of the said County, until she shall willingly do the same: And in case such
Discovery shall be made in Manner aforesaid, then and in such Case the Father
of such Child, being legally convicted in Manner aforesaid, shall over and
above the Fine aforesaid, be ordered and adjudged by the Justice aforesaid, or
the County Court, as the Case may happen, to give good Security to keep such
Bastard Child from becoming a Charge to the County, and for want of giving
such Security, he shall by the Justice aforesaid, or by the County Court, as the
Case may happen, be committed to the public Goal of the said County until he
shall willingly do the same; and such Mother of the said Child shall be thereof
discharged.
[Mothers of Bastards,
And be it likewise Enacted, That if the Mother of such Bastard Child will not
discover the Father as aforesaid, and shall be unable or unwilling to pay her
[The Father or Mother
refusing to discover the
Father, to pay a
double Fine, Etc.]
to be committed, in
Fine in Manner aforesaid; or if upon such Discovery as aforesaid, such reputed
Father shall be unable or unwilling to pay his Fine, and the Charges as aforesaid,
then and in every such Case, such Mother or Father respectively, as the Case
may happen, shall be obliged to give good Security to the Right Honourable
the Lord Proprietor for the Payment of such Fines by a certain Day, not less
than twelve Months from the Time of giving such Security, to be taken by the
Justice aforesaid, or by the County Court, as the Case may happen; and for
Default of such Security, to be committed to the public Goal of the said County,
until such Mother or Father of such Bastard Child shall willingly do the same.
And be it likewise Enacted, That if the Mother of such Bastard Child will not
discover the Father as aforesaid, and shall be unable or unwilling to pay her
Fine in Manner aforesaid; or if upon such Discovery as aforesaid, such
reputed Father shall be unable or unwilling to pay his Fine, and the Charges
as aforesaid, then and in every such Case, such Mother or Father respectively,
as the Case may happen, shall be obliged to give good Security to the Right
Honourable the Lord Proprietor for the Payment of such Fines by a certain
Day, not less than twelve Months from the Time of giving such Security, to
be taken by the Justice aforesaid, or by the County Court, as the Case may
happen; and for Default of such Security, to be committed to the public Goal
of the said County, until such Mother or Father of such Bastard Child shall
willingly do the same.
And be it likewise Enacted, That the several Justices aforesaid are hereby
authorized and required to receive the same Fines, and to make Payment
thereof to the Sheriff of the County aforesaid, for the Time being, to and
for the Use of such County, and shall take his Receipt for the same; and
shall, at every Court to be held for such County, make and return to such
Court a List under his Hand, what Fines he hath so received, together with
the said Sheriff's Receipt for the same, to be lodged with the Clerk of the
said Court; and shall also certify and return to the next County Court, under
his Hand and Seal, the Conviction of such Person before him, and all Recognizances by him so as aforesaid taken, to be recorded by the Clerk of the
said Court among the Records thereof; for all which Services, the Clerk of
the said Court shall have and receive his legal Fees; which said Conviction,
so recorded, shall be good and sufficient in Law to all Intents, Constructions,
and Purposes, and of the same Force and Effect, as if the said Judgment and
Conviction had been legally had in the same Court; any Law, Usage, or
Custom to the contrary notwithstanding.
case of not complying
with the Requisites
mentioned in this Act.]
[Fines to be received
by the Justices, Etc.]
[Duty of Constables.]
And be it further Enacted by the Authority aforesaid, That it shall be the
Duty of the Constables of the several Hundreds in every County within
this Province, and they are hereby directed and required, to make
Information to some Magistrate in their respective Counties, against
the Mother and reputed Father of every such Bastard Child.
And be it likewise Enacted, That upon every Conviction before a single [Justices and Constables Fees.]
Magistrate out of Court, in Manner the Justice shall be intitled to a Fee or
Reward of Five Shillings; and the Constable, for serving every Warrant
against such Mother or reputed Father, the Sum of Two Shillings and Six
Pence, and no more, to be paid by the Party so convicted.
And be it further Enacted, That if any Woman shall be withforesaid, with
Child, which Child when born shall by the Laws of this Province be a
Bastard, and shall confess the same before some Justice of the Peace, and
make Oath to the Begetter of such Child, that then and in such Case the
Justice aforesaid shall bind over such Woman, and the Begetter of such
Child, to the next Court to be held for the said County, in which Court
the Parties shall be kept bound 'til after the Delivery of the said Woman
of such Bastard Child, and until the same Method of Proceeding shall be
had before a single Justice of the Peace, or County Court, as the Case may
happen, against such Woman and the Begetter of such Child, for Recovery
of the Fines of and from such Woman, and Begetter of such Child, and
securing the County, as is directed by this Act in like Cases.
[Single Women with
Child, confessing
the Begetter, to be
bound over with such
Begetter, to the next
County Court.]
And be it further Enacted, That no County Court within this Province
[Parties confessing
shall take Cognizance, or proceed to hear, try, and determine any such
the Sin of Adultery
Fornication or Adultery as aforesaid, where the Parties charged therewith or Fornication,
shall willingly confess the same, before some Justice, according to the
not to be under CogniDirections of this Act. Provided nevertheless, That where any Person
zance of the County Court.]
or Persons have been bound over to answer for Fornication or Adultery, [Proviso.]
or that have been presented or indicted for the same, or that shall at any
Time, before the first Day of October next, be presented or indicted for
such Offence; that then the several and respective County Courts shall
proceed to final Judgment thereon, against the Person or Persons so
offending; any Thing in this Act to the contrary in any wise notwithstanding.
This Act to continue for three Years from the first Day of October next,
and unto the End of the next Session of Assembly which shall happen
after the said three Years.
22.d June 1752
Read and Assented to
by/the Lower House of
Assembly/
[Continuance of this Act.]
On behalf of the Right
Honble the Lord Propry
of this Province I will
this be a Law
Benj.a Tasker
Signed p Order
the great seal in
Wax appendant
M Macnemara Cl lo ho.
Source: Archives of Maryland Online. Vol. 50: p. 79-80. http://aomol.net/megafile/msa/speccol/sc2900/sc2908/000001/000050/html/am50-79.html
DOCUMENT 39
The following excerpts come from Mary Jemison’s captivity narrative and biography. Captured by the
Indians in 1753, the fifteen year old was adopted by and afterwards chose to remain her entire adult life
among the Indians. The so-called “white woman of the Genessee" recounted her life story to James
Seaver in 1823 which became a best-seller (100,000 copies sold) on being published the following year.
What do these excerpts suggest about native assimilation techniques?
…Having made fast to the shore, the squaws left me in the canoe while they went to their wigwam or
house in the town, and returned with a suit of Indian clothing, all new, and very clean and nice. My
clothes, though whole and good when I was taken, were now torn in pieces, so that I was almost naked.
They first undressed me and threw my rags into the river; then washed 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 the
center of their wigwam.
I had been in that situation hut a few minutes, before all the squaws in the town came in to see
me. I was soon surrounded by them, and they immediately set up a most dismal howling, crying bitterly,
and wringing their hands in all the agonies of grief for a deceased relative.
Their tears flowed freely, and they exhibited all the signs of real mourning. At the commencement of this
scene, one of their number began, in a voice somewhat between speaking and singing, to recite some
words to the following purport, and continued the recitation till the ceremony was ended; the company at
the same time varying the appearance of their countenances, gestures and tune of voice, so as to
correspond with the sentiments expressed by their leader:
“Oh our brother! Alas! He is dead—he has gone; he will never return! Friendless he died on the
field of the slain, where his bones are yet lying un-buried! Oh, who will not mourn his sad fate? No tears
dropped around him; oh, no! No tears of his sisters were there! He fell in his prune, when his arm was
most needed to keep us from danger! Alas! he has gone! and left us in sorrow, his loss to bewail: Oh
where is his spirit? His spirit went naked, and hungry it wanders, and thirsty and wounded it groans to
return! Oh helpless and wretched, our brother has gone! No blanket 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 we
remember his deeds! —The deer he could take on the chase! The panther shrunk back at the sight of his
strength! His enemies fell at his feet! He was brave and courageous in war! As the fawn he was harmless:
his friendship was ardent: his temper was gentle: his pity was great! Oh! our friend, our companion is
dead! Our brother, our brother, alas! he is gone! But why do we grieve for his loss? In the strength of a
warrior, undaunted he left us, to fight by the side of the Chiefs! His war-whoop was shrill! His rifle well
aimed laid his enemies low: his tomahawk drank of their blood: and his knife flayed their scalps while yet
covered with gore! And why do we mourn? Though he fell on the field of the slain, with glory he fell, and
his spirit went up to the land of his fathers in war! Then why do we mourn? With transports of joy they
received him, and fed him, and clothed him, and welcomed him there! Oh friends, he is happy; then dry
up your tears! His spirit has seen our distress, and sent us a helper whom with pleasure we greet.
Dickewamis has come: then let us receive her with joy! She is handsome and pleasant! Oh! she is our
sister, and gladly we welcome her here. In the place of our brother she stands in our tribe. With care we
will guard her from trouble; and may 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 was made welcome amongst
them as a sister to the two squaws before mentioned, and was called Dickewamis; 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 the Indians.
I afterwards learned that the ceremony I at that time passed through, was that of adoption. The
two squaws had lost a brother in Washington’s war, sometime in the year before, and in consequence of
his death went up to Fort Pitt, on the day on which I arrived there, in order to receive a prisoner or oil
enemy’s scalp, to supply their loss. It is a custom of the Indians, when one of their number is slain or
taken prisoner in battle, to give to the nearest relative to the dead or absent, a prisoner, if they have
chanced to take one, and if not, to give him the scalp of an enemy. On the return of the Indians from
conquest, 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 a prisoner, it is
at their option either to satiate their vengeance by taking his life in the most cruel manner they can
conceive of; or, to receive and adopt him into the family, in the place of him whom they have lost. All the
prisoners that are taken in battle and carried to the encampment or town by the Indians, are given to the
bereaved families, till their number is made good. And unless the mourners have but just received the
news of their bereavement, and are under the operation of a paroxysm of grief, anger and revenge; or,
unless the prisoner is very old, sickly, or homely, they generally save him, and treat him kindly. But if
their mental wound is fresh, their loss so great that they deem it irreparable, or if their prisoner or
prisoners do not meet their approbation, no torture, let it be ever so cruel, seems sufficient to make them
satisfaction. It is family, and not national, sacrifices amongst the Indians, that has given them an indelible
stamp as barbarians, and identified their character with the idea which is generally formed of unfeeling
ferocity, and the most abandoned cruelty.
It was my happy lot to be accepted for adoption: and at the time of the ceremony I was received
by the two squaws, to supply the place of their mother in the family; and I was ever considered and
treated by them as a real sister, the same as though I had been born of their mother.
During my adoption, I sat motionless, nearly terrified to death at the appearance and actions of
the company, expecting every moment to feel their vengeance, and suffer death on the spot. I was,
however, happily disappointed, when at the close of the ceremony the company retired, and my sisters
went about employing every means for my consolation and comfort.
Being now settled and provided with a home, I was employed in nursing the children, and doing
light work about the house. Occasionally I was sent out with the Indian hunters, when they went but a
short distance, to help them carry their game. My situation was easy; I had no particular hardships to
endure. But still, the recollection of my parents, my brothers and sisters, my home, and my own captivity,
destroyed my happiness, and made mc constantly solitary, lonesome and gloomy.
My sisters would not allow me to speak English in their hearing; but remembering the charge that
my dear mother gave me at the time I left her, whenever I chanced to he alone I made a business of
repeating my prayer, catechism, or something I had learned in order that I might not forget my own
language. By practising in that way I retained it till I came to Genesee flats, where I soon became
acquainted with English people with whom I have been almost daily in the habit of conversing.
My sisters were diligent in teaching me their language; and to their great satisfaction I soon
learned 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 gentle toward me. I have great reason to respect them, though
they have been dead a great number of years.
DOCUMENT 40
Although written in the post revolutionary period, the following excerpts from a Connecticut minister’s
regional history tells us a great deal about courtship norms in colonial New England stretching back to
the earliest settlement, as well as changing attitudes to the custom of bundling over time. What were the
reverend’s own views on the subject, and what are the recorded views of some colonial matrons and
mothers in the 1750s?
Notwithstanding the modesty of the females is such that it would be accounted the greatest rudeness for a
gentleman to speak, before a lady, of a garter, knee, or leg, yet it is thought but a piece of civility to ask
her to bundle—a custom as old as the first settlement in 1634. It is certainly innocent, virtuous, and
prudent, or the puritans would not have permitted it to prevail
among their offspring, for whom, in general, they would suffer crucifixion. Children brought up with the
chastest ideas, with so much religion as to believe that the omniscient God sees them in the dark, and that
angels guard them when absent from their parents, will not—nay, cannot—act a wicked thing. People
who are influenced more by lust than a serious faith in God, who is too pure to behold iniquity with
approbation, ought never to bundle. If any man, thus a stranger to the love of virtue, of God, and the
christian religion, should bundle with a young lady in New-England, and behave himself unseemly
towards her, he must first melt her into passion, and expel heaven, death, and hell, from her mind, or he
will undergo the chastisement of negroes turned mad ; if he escapes with life, it will be owing to the
parents flying from their beds to protect him.
The Indians, who had this, method of courtship when (p.224) // the English arrived among them in 1634,
are the most chaste set of people in the world.
Concubinage and fornication are vices none of them are addicted to, except such as forsake the laws of
Hobbomockow and turn christians. The savages have taken many female prisoners, carried them back
three hundred miles into their country, and kept them several years, and yet not a single instance of their
violating the laws of chastity has ever been known. This cannot be said of the French, or of the English,
whenever Indian or other women have fallen into their hands. I am no advocate for temptation, yet must
say that bundling has prevailed 160 years in New-England, and, I verily believe, with ten times more
chastity than the sitting on a sofa. About the year 1756, Boston, Salem, Newport, and New York,
resolving to be more polite than their ancestors, forbade their daughters bundling on the bed with any
young man whatever, and introduced a sofa, to render courtship more palatable and Turkish. Whatever it
was owing to, whether to the sofa or any uncommon excess of the feu (Pesprit, there went abroad a report
that the raffinage produced more natural consequences than all the bundling among the boors with their
rurales pendantes through every village in New-England besides.
In 1766, a clergyman from one of the polite towns went into the country and preached against the
unchristian custom of young men and maidens lying together upon the same bed. He was no sooner out of
the Church, than attacked by a shoal of good old women, with, " Sir, do you think we and our daughters
are naughty because we allow bundling ?" "You lead (p. 225) // yourselves into temptation by it." They
all replied at once, "Sir, have you been told thus, or has experience taught you ?" The Levite began to lift
his eyes and to consider his situation, and, bowing, said, "I have been told so." The ladies, una voce,
bawled out, "Your informants, sir, we conclude, are those city ladies who prefer a sofa to a bed. We
advise you to alter your sermon by substituting the word sofa for bundling, and, on your return home,
preach to them: for experience has told us that city-folks send more children into the country without
father and mother to own them, than are born among us; therefore, you see, a sofa is more dangerous than
a bed." The poor priest, seemingly convinced of his blunder, exclaimed, "Jfec vitia nostra, nee remedia
pati possumus" hoping hereby to get rid of his guests; but an old matron pulled off her spectacles, and,
looking the priest in the face like a Roman heroine, said, "Noliputare me hcec auribus tuis dares." Others
cried out to the priest to explain his Latin. "The English," he said, "is this: Woe to me that I sojourn in
Meseck, and dwell in the tents of Kedar!" One pertly replied, " Gladii decussati sunt gemina
presbyteriealms” The priest confessed his error, begged pardon, and promised never more to preach
against bundling, or to think amiss of the custom; the ladies generously forgave him, and went away.
It may seem very strange to find this custom of bundling in bed attended with so much innocence in NewEngland, while in Europe it is thought not safe, or scarcely decent, to permit a young man or maid to be
together in private anywhere. But, in this quarter of the Old World, the viciousness of the one and the
sim- (p.226) //plicity of the other are the result merely of education and habit. It seems to be a part of
heroism, among the polished nations of it, to sacrifice the virtuous fair one whenever an opportunity
offers, and thence it is concluded that the same principles actuate those of the New World. It is
egregiously absurd to judge of all countries by one. In Spain, Portugal, and Italy, jealousy reigns; in
France, England, and Holland, suspicion; in the West and East-Indies, lust; in New-England, superstition.
These four blind deities govern Jews, Turks, christians, infidels, and heathen. Superstition is the most
amiable. She sees no vice with approbation, but persecution, and self-preservation is the cause of her
seeing that. My insular readers will, I hope, believe me, when I tell them-that I have seen in the West-
Indies naked boys and girls, some fifteen or sixteen years of age, waiting at table and at tea, even when
twenty or thirty virtuous English ladies were in the room; who were under no more embarrassment at
such an awful sight in the eyes of English people who have not travelled abroad, than they would have
been at the sight of so many servants in livery. Shall we censure the ladies of the West-Indies as vicious
above their sex on account of this local custom ? By no means ; for long experience has taught the world
that the West-Indian white ladies are virtuous prudes. Where superstition reigns, fanaticism will be
minister of state; and the people, (p. 227) // control the minds and passions of the great and wise men of
the world, as superstition does that of the simple and less polished! When America shall elect societies for
the promotion of chastity in Europe, in return for the establishment of European arts in American capitals
then Europe will discover that there is more christian philosophy in American bundling than can be found
in the customs of nations more polite.
I should not have said so much about bundling had not a learned divine (Dr. Burnaby) of the English
Church published his Travels through some parts of America, [A traveler who observed the custom of
bundling in 1759 and 1760, and disparagingly described it as a low-class custom] wherein this remarkable
custom is represented in an unfavourable light, and as prevailing among the lower class of people. The
truth is, the custom prevails among all classes, to the great honour of the country, its religion, and ladies.
The virtuous may be tempted ; but the tempter is despised. Why it should be thought incredible for a
young man and young woman innocently and virtuously to lie down together in a bed with a great part of
their clothes on, I cannot conceive. Human passions may be alike in every region; but religion, diversified
as it is, operates differently in different countries. Upon the whole, had I daughters now, I would venture
to let them bundle upon the bed, or even on the sofa, after a proper education, sooner than adopt the
Spanish mode of forcing young people to prattle only before the lady's mother the chitchat of artless
lovers. Could the four quarters of the world produce a more chaste, exemplary, and beautiful company of
wives and daughters than are in Connecticut, I should not have remaining one favourable sentiment for
the province. But the soil, the rivers, the under the taxation of zeal, will shun what is commonly called
vice with ten times more care than the polite and civilized christians who know what is right and what is
wrong from reason and revelation. Happy would it be for the world, if reason and revelation were
suffered to (p. 228) // ponds, the ten thousand landscapes, together with the virtuous and lovely women
which now adorn the ancient kingdoms of Connecticut, Sassacus, and Quinnipiog, would tempt me into
the highest wonder and admiration of them, could they once be freed of the skunk, the moping-owl, rattlesnake, and fanatic christian. (p. 229)
Source: Reverend Samuel Peters, General History of Connecticut: from its first settlement under George Fenwick to its latest period of amity with
Great Britain prior to the Revolution. London: 1781.