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<body>
<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 66701 ***</div>
<div id="cover" class="img">
<img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="The Beginnings of America 1607-1763" width="500" height="747" />
</div>
<div class="box">
<p class="center"><span class="rubric">VOICES FROM AMERICA’S PAST</span></p>
<h1>THE BEGINNINGS OF AMERICA
<br /><span class="rubric"><span class="smallest">1607-1763</span></span></h1>
<div class="ssn">
<dl class="undent"><dt>Edited by</dt>
<dd class="t">Richard B. Morris</dd>
<dd class="t">Gouverneur Morris Professor of History</dd>
<dd class="t">Columbia University</dd>
<dd class="t">New York, New York</dd></dl>
<dl class="undent"><dd class="t">James Woodress</dd>
<dd class="t">Chairman, Department of English</dd>
<dd class="t">San Fernando Valley State College</dd>
<dd class="t">Northridge, California</dd></dl>
</div>
<p class="tbcenter"><span class="rubric"><span class="large">WEBSTER PUBLISHING COMPANY</span></span>
<br /><span class="smaller"><span class="rubric">ST. LOUIS</span><span class="hst"> ATLANTA</span><span class="hst"> DALLAS</span><span class="hst"> PASADENA</span></span></p>
</div>
<dl class="undent"><dt><span class="smaller"><span class="ss">VOICES FROM AMERICA’S PAST</span></span></dt>
<dt><i>The Beginnings of America 1607-1763</i></dt>
<dt><i>The Times That Tried Men’s Souls 1770-1783</i></dt>
<dt><i>The Age of Washington 1783-1801</i></dt>
<dt><i>The Jeffersonians 1801-1829</i></dt>
<dt><i>Jacksonian Democracy 1829-1848</i></dt>
<dt><i>The Westward Movement 1832-1889</i></dt>
<dt><i>A House Divided: The Civil War 1850-1865</i></dt>
<dt><span class="smaller">(<i>Other titles in preparation</i>)</span></dt></dl>
<dl class="undent"><dt>Copyright ©, 1961, by Webster Publishing Company</dt>
<dt>Printed in the United States of America</dt>
<dt>All rights reserved</dt></dl>
<div class="pb" id="Page_iii">iii</div>
<div class='chapter' /><h2 id="toc">TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2>
<dl class="toc">
<dt class="dsp"><a href="#c1">Preface</a> v</dt>
<dd class="center">I Settlements North and South</dd>
<dt class="dsp"><a href="#c2">The Founding of Jamestown</a> 1</dt>
<dd><a href="#c3">William Simmonds Describes the Settlers’ Problems</a> 2</dd>
<dd><a href="#c4">John Smith’s Adventures</a> 4</dd>
<dt class="dsp"><a href="#c5">The Founding of Plymouth</a> 9</dt>
<dd><a href="#c6">William Bradford’s History Of <i>Plymouth Plantation</i></a> 9</dd>
<dd><a href="#c7">John Winthrop, Governor of Massachusetts Bay Colony</a> 17</dd>
<dd><a href="#c8">Cotton Mather Describes John Winthrop</a> 18</dd>
<dd><a href="#c9">John Winthrop’s Letters to His Wife</a> 19</dd>
<dd class="center">II Religious Life in America</dd>
<dt class="dsp"><a href="#c10">New England</a> 22</dt>
<dd><a href="#c11">Edward Taylor’s Poems</a> 23</dd>
<dd><a href="#c12">The Salem Witch Trials</a> 25</dd>
<dd><a href="#c13">Samuel Sewall’s Confession of Error</a> 30</dd>
<dd><a href="#c14">The Great Awakening: Jonathan Edwards</a> 30</dd>
<dt class="dsp"><a href="#c15">Other Colonies</a> 33</dt>
<dd><a href="#c16">John Woolman’s Journal</a> 33</dd>
<dd class="center">III Colonial Problems</dd>
<dt class="dsp"><a href="#c17">Indian Troubles</a> 37</dt>
<dd><a href="#c18">Mrs. Rowlandson’s Captivity</a> 38</dd>
<dt class="dsp"><a href="#c19">Conflict with France</a> 42</dt>
<dd><a href="#c20">George Washington’s Letter on Braddock’s Defeat</a> 42</dd>
<dd><a href="#c21">Benjamin Franklin’s Comments on Braddock</a> 44</dd>
<dd class="center">IV Colonial Life</dd>
<dt class="dsp"><a href="#c22">Transportation</a> 46</dt>
<dd><a href="#c23">Sarah Kemble Knight Journeys to Connecticut</a> 46</dd>
<dt class="dsp"><a href="#c24">Life in the South</a> 49</dt>
<dd><a href="#c25">William Byrd, a Virginia Gentleman</a> 49</dd>
<dd><a href="#c26">William Byrd Sees North Carolina</a> 50</dd>
<dd><a href="#c27">William Byrd Visits Colonel Spotswood</a> 52</dd>
<dt class="dsp"><a href="#c28">Life in a City</a> 52</dt>
<dd><a href="#c29">From Benjamin Franklin’s <i>Autobiography</i></a> 53</dd>
</dl>
<p class="tb">The excerpt from <i>Of Plymouth Plantation</i>, by William Bradford, edited
by Samuel Eliot Morison, which begins on <a class="pgref" href="#Page_11">page 11</a>, was reprinted by
permission of Alfred Knopf, Inc., 1952.</p>
<p>The poems by Edward Taylor, “Housewifery” and “The Joy of Church
Fellowship Rightly Attended,” which begin on <a class="pgref" href="#Page_23">page 23</a>, were reprinted
by permission of the <i>New England Quarterly</i>, December, 1937.</p>
<p>The picture on <a class="pgref" href="#Page_1">page 1</a>, of Pocahontas saving the life of Captain John
Smith, and the picture on <a class="pgref" href="#Page_22">page 22</a>, “The Witch,” were reprinted through
the courtesy of the Library of Congress. The picture on the <a href="#Page_i">cover</a> and
the picture on <a class="pgref" href="#Page_37">page 37</a>, of a colonial woman captured by Indians, were
reprinted through the courtesy of the National Life Insurance Company
of Montpelier, Vermont. The picture of Benjamin Franklin shown on <a class="pgref" href="#Page_46">page 46</a>
was reprinted through the courtesy of the John Hancock Mutual Life
Insurance Company of Boston, Massachusetts.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_v">v</div>
<div class='chapter' /><h2 id="c1">Preface</h2>
<p>The seventeenth century in America was the seedtime of colonization.
For 115 years after Columbus discovered America, explorers sailed the
western waters, and the nations of Europe staked out vast empires. England
launched several successful attempts to plant colonies in what is now the
United States. In the years following the landing at Jamestown in 1607,
England laid the foundation for her extensive colonial system in North
America. From these scattered colonies a nation grew, but a long time
passed before the colonies became states and the states became a nation.</p>
<p>The English colonization of North America did not suffer for want of
reporters to describe it. The people who took part in the enterprise wrote
a great deal about their experiences. Governor Bradford of Plymouth
wrote a history to preserve a record of the colony’s early days. Captain
John Smith of Virginia wrote pamphlets to satisfy the curiosity of folks back
home who might want to come to the New World. Many of these works
were printed immediately; others remained in manuscript until our day.</p>
<p>Not only the leaders of the colonies wrote of their deeds. Ordinary
people also sent letters home to England and kept diaries for their personal
satisfaction. All in all, the United States had her beginnings amid
ample publicity. We are grateful to these people for preserving records
of the early days, for through their efforts we can get a first-hand idea of
colonial times. We don’t have to guess about the events that took place
in America three hundred years ago. Of course, we don’t have nearly
as many documents as we could wish for, but we do have plenty of records
to draw upon.</p>
<p>This is the first of a series of booklets containing the story of America,
as told by those who were there, the eyewitnesses and participants. The
selections which make up this booklet are a few of the records that historians
use in writing their books. These diaries, letters, biographies, and
narratives are the raw material of history. These accounts bring us face to
face with the Indians of Virginia in 1607, make us feel something of the
sufferings of the Pilgrims in Massachusetts during their “starving time,” tell
us about the deep religious beliefs of the colonists, and the superstitions,
like witchcraft, which were hard to root out. We see life through the eyes
of a prosperous planter in Virginia and a struggling printer’s apprentice
<span class="pb" id="Page_vi">vi</span>
in Philadelphia. History books can provide over-all pictures of a country’s
development, but these eyewitness accounts and first-hand reports put flesh
on the bare bones of history.</p>
<p>In editing this booklet, we have let the authors tell their own story in
their own words, but we have sometimes modernized the spelling and
punctuation and—when it seemed absolutely necessary—words and sentence
structure. Our aim has been to turn the language of these old documents
into English modern enough that what the writers have to say is not
obscured by the way they said it. Occasionally we have made cuts within
selections to save space, but, for the most part, the material used is
complete.</p>
<p><span class="lr">Richard B. Morris</span>
<span class="lr">James Woodress</span></p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_1">1</div>
<div class='chapter' /><h2><span class="large">Settlements North and South</span></h2>
<div class="img" id="fig1">
<img src="images/i2.jpg" alt="" width="794" height="595" />
<p class="caption">Pocahontas saving the life of Captain John Smith</p>
</div>
<div class='chapter' /><h2 id="c2">The Founding of Jamestown</h2>
<p>The first permanent English settlement in America was founded at
Jamestown, Virginia, in May, 1607. The colonists who went ashore that
spring morning more than three and one-half centuries ago discovered no
cultivated countryside. Instead of the trim, green farms one sees along the
James River today, they found a howling wilderness full of hostile Indians
and wild beasts. Neither the colonists nor their merchant-sponsors in England
were prepared for the troubles that Jamestown faced. The settlers
died of disease, starvation, and Indian attacks, and they quarreled endlessly
among themselves. The stockholders in the Virginia Company never
made any money on their investment in the colony.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_2">2</div>
<p>The Jamestown settlers sailed from England in three ships on December
19, 1606. Captain Christopher Newport was in charge of getting the
colonists to Virginia. The ships stopped in the Canary Islands and the West
Indies before reaching their destination. It was a long, exhausting voyage.
Several weeks after landing at Jamestown, Captain Newport returned to
England. The settlers then were on their own.</p>
<h3 id="c3">William Simmonds Describes the Settlers’ Problems</h3>
<p>The following account of the early days at Jamestown was compiled in
London by William Simmonds. It is based on the writings, freely adapted,
of several of the colonists who were his friends. As you can see, Simmonds’
friends had no use for Edward Wingfield, the first president of the colony.
They were supporters of Captain John Smith, whose own writings begin
after this narrative.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Being thus left to our fortunes, within ten days, scarce ten
amongst us could either go or well stand, such extreme weakness and
sickness oppressed us. And thereat none need marvel, if they consider
the cause and reason, which was this: whilst the ships stayed,
our allowance of food was somewhat bettered by a daily portion of
biscuit which the sailors would pilfer [<i>steal</i>] to sell, give, or exchange
with us, for money, sassafras, [<i>or</i>] furs.... But when they
departed, there remained neither tavern, beer house, nor place of
relief but the common kettle.</p>
<p>Had we been as free from all sins as we were free from gluttony
and drunkenness, we might have been canonized for saints. But our
president would never have been admitted, for he kept for his private
use oatmeal, sack [<i>wine</i>], oil, aqua vitae [<i>brandy</i>], beef, eggs, or
what not. [<i>President Wingfield hotly denied this charge</i>.] The [<i>contents
of the common</i>] kettle indeed he allowed equally to be distributed,
and that was half a pint of wheat and as much barley boiled
with water for a man a day. This [<i>grain</i>] having fried some 26 weeks
in the ship’s hold contained as many worms as grains, so that we
might truly call it rather so much bran than corn.</p>
<p>Our drink was water, our lodging, castles in the air. With this
lodging and diet our extreme toil in bearing and planting palisades
strained and bruised us. Our continual labor in the extremity of the
heat had so weakened us as were cause sufficient to have made us
miserable in our native country, or any other place in the world.
From May to September those that escaped dying lived upon sturgeon
and sea crabs. Fifty in this time we buried. [<i>The original colony
numbered 104.</i>]</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_3">3</div>
<p>Then seeing the President’s projects (who all this time had
neither felt want nor sickness) to escape these miseries by flight in
our pinnace [<i>small sailing boat</i>] so moved our dead spirits that we
deposed [<i>removed</i>] him and established [<i>John</i>] Ratcliffe in his
place.... But now was all our provision spent, the sturgeon gone,
all helps abandoned, each hour expecting the fury of the savages,
when God, the patron of all good endeavors, in that desperate extremity,
so changed the hearts of the savages that they brought such
plenty of their fruits and provision that no man wanted.</p>
<p>And now where some affirmed it was ill done of the Council to
send forth men so badly provided, this incontradictable reason will
show them plainly they are too ill-advised to nourish such ideas.
First, the fault of our going was our own. What could be thought
fitting or necessary we had; but what we should find, what we should
want, where we should be, we were all ignorant. And supposing
to make our passage in two months with victual [<i>food</i>] to live and
the advantage of spring to work, we were at sea five months where
we spent both our victual and lost the opportunity of the time and
season to plant.</p>
<p>Such actions have ever since the world’s beginning been subject
to such accidents. Everything of worth is found full of difficulties,
but nothing [<i>is</i>] so difficult as to establish a commonwealth so far
remote from men and means and where men’s minds are so untoward
[<i>unlucky</i>] as neither [<i>to</i>] do well themselves nor to suffer
others [<i>to do well</i>]. But to proceed.</p>
<p>The new president, being little beloved, of weak judgment in
dangers and less industry in peace, committed the managing of all
things abroad to Captain Smith, who, by his own example, good
words, and fair promises set some to mow, others to bind thatch,
some to build houses, others to thatch them, himself always bearing
the greatest task for his own share. In short time he provided most
of them lodgings, neglecting any for himself.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_4">4</div>
<p>This done, seeing the savages’ superfluity [<i>large numbers</i>] begin
to decrease, [<i>he</i>] with some of his workmen shipped himself in the
shallop [<i>small boat</i>] to search the country for trade.... He went
down the river to Kecoughtan [<i>an Indian village</i>] where at first they
scorned him as a starved man, yet he so dealt with them that the next
day they loaded his boat with corn. And in his return he discovered
and kindly traded with the Warascoyks....</p>
<p>And now the winter approaching, the rivers became so covered
with swans, geese, ducks, and cranes that we daily feasted with
good bread, Virginia peas, pumpkins, and persimmons, fish, fowl,
and diverse sorts of wild beasts, ... so that none of our Tuftaffaty
[<i>silk-dressed</i>] humorists desired to go for England.</p>
</blockquote>
<h3 id="c4">John Smith <span class="ssn">1580-1631</span></h3>
<p>Captain John Smith already had lived an exciting life by the time he
joined the Virginia-bound colonists at the age of 26. He had left England
at 16 to become a soldier of fortune on the continent of Europe. He fought
with the Austrians against the Turks, and once in single combat he cut off
the heads of three Turkish champions. A Transylvanian prince rewarded
him with a coat of arms for his deeds. Later he was captured and given
as a present to the wife of a Turkish pasha, but he escaped and made his
way back to England.</p>
<p>Smith’s adventures are so fantastic that many historians have called
him a liar and refused to believe him. Yet recent historical research shows
that Smith’s stories are reasonably accurate. He may have exaggerated
his adventures to make a good story a little better, but it is probably true
that Smith saved the Jamestown colony by his resourceful foraging among
the Indians and by his bold leadership. Certainly he was an energetic and
able man. For a fascinating account of Smith’s career, as verified by an
expert in Hungarian history, see Marshall Fishwick, “Was John Smith a
Liar?” <i>American Heritage</i>, IX, 29-33, 110 (October, 1958).</p>
<p>Smith returned to England in 1609 and never again saw Virginia, but
he wrote much about the colony. One of his most interesting works is a
pamphlet called <i>A Map of Virginia</i>. In it he put together a vivid eyewitness
account of the animals, the plants, and the Indians. Smith’s booklet was
designed to satisfy the great curiosity in England about the New World
and to urge new settlers to go there. He does not mention the hardships.</p>
<blockquote>
<h4>THE INDIANS</h4>
<p>The people differ very much in stature, ... some being very
great, ... others very little, ... but generally tall and straight, of
a comely [<i>pretty</i>] proportion and of a color brown, when they are
of any age, but they are borne white. Their hair is generally black,
but few have any beards. The men wear half their heads shaven, the
other half long. For barbers they use their women, who with two
shells will grate the hair, of any fashion they please....</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_5">5</div>
<p>They are very strong, of an able body and full of agility, able
to endure, to lie in the woods under a tree by the fire in the worst
of winter or in the weeds and grass in ambush in the summer. They
are inconstant [<i>changeable</i>] in everything but what fear constrains
them to keep.... Some are of disposition fearful, some bold, most
cautelous [<i>deceitful</i>], all savage. Generally [<i>they are</i>] covetous of
copper, beads, and such like trash. They are soon moved to anger
and so malicious that they seldom forget an injury....</p>
<p>For their apparel they are sometimes covered with skins of wild
beasts, which in winter are dressed with the hair but in summer without.
The better sort use large mantles of deerskin, ... some embroidered
with white beads, some with copper, others painted after
their manner. But the common sort have scarce to cover their nakedness
but with grass, the leaves of trees, or such like. We have seen
some use mantles made of turkey feathers so prettily wrought
and woven with threads that nothing could be discerned [<i>seen</i>] but
the feathers, that was exceedingly warm and very handsome. But the
women are always covered about their middles with a skin and very
shamefast to be seen bare....</p>
<p>Their women some have their legs, hands, breasts, and face cunningly
embroidered with diverse works, as beasts, serpents, artificially
wrought into their flesh with black spots. In each ear commonly
they have three great holes, whereat they hang chains,
bracelets, or copper. Some of their men wear in those holes a small
green and yellow colored snake, near half a yard in length, which
crawling and lapping herself about his neck often times familiarly
would kiss his lips. Others wear a dead rat tied by the tail. Some on
their heads wear the wing of a bird or some large feather with a
rattle.... Their heads and shoulders are painted red with the root
<i>pocone</i> powdered and mixed with oil; this they hold in summer to
preserve them from the heat and in winter from the cold. Many other
forms of paintings they use, but he is the most gallant that is the
most monstrous to behold....</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_6">6</div>
<p>Men, women, and children have their several names according
to the several humors of their parents. Their women (they say) are
easily delivered of child, yet do they love children very dearly. To
make them hardy, in the coldest mornings they wash them in the
rivers and by painting and ointments so tan their skins that after a
year or two no weather will hurt them.</p>
<p>The men bestow their time in fishing, hunting, wars, and such
man-like exercises, ... which is the cause that the women be very
painful [<i>busy</i>] and the men often idle. The women and children do
the rest of the work. They make mats, baskets, pots, pound their
corn, make their bread, prepare their victuals, plant their corn,
gather their corn, bear all kinds of burdens, and such like.</p>
<p>Their fire they kindle presently by chafing a dry pointed stick in
a hole of a little square piece of wood, that firing itself will so fire
moss, leaves, or any such like dry thing that will quickly burn.</p>
<h4>THEIR RELIGION</h4>
<p>There is yet in Virginia no place discovered to be so savage
in which the savages have not a religion, deer, and bow and arrows.
All things that were able to do them hurt beyond their prevention
they adore with their kind of divine worship, as the fire, water, lightning,
thunder, our ordnance [<i>guns</i>], horses, etc. But their chief god
they worship is the devil. Him they call <i>Oke</i> and serve him more of
fear than love. They say they have conference with him and fashion
themselves as near to his shape as they can imagine. In their temples,
they have his image evil favoredly carved and then painted and
adorned with chains, copper, and beads, and covered with a skin....</p>
<p>By him is commonly the sepulchre [<i>tomb</i>] of their kings. Their
bodies are first bowelled [<i>that is, disembowelled or the internal
organs removed</i>], then dried upon hurdles [<i>racks</i>] till they be very
dry, and so about the most of their joints and neck they hang bracelets
or chains of copper, pearl, and such like, as they used to wear.
Their inwards they stuff with copper beads and cover with a skin,
hatchets, and such trash. Then they lappe [<i>wrap</i>] them very carefully
in white skins and so roll them in mats for their winding sheets.
And in the tomb, which is an arch made of mats, they lay them
orderly. What remaineth of this kind of wealth their kings have,
they set at their feet in baskets. These temples and bodies are kept
by their priests.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_7">7</div>
<p>For their ordinary burials they dig a deep hole in the earth with
sharp stakes, and the corpses being lapped in skins and mats with
their jewels, they lay them upon sticks in the ground and so cover
them with earth. The burial ended, the women being painted all
their faces with black coal and oil do sit 24 hours in the houses
mourning and lamenting by turns with such yelling and howling
as may express their great passions.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>John Smith’s most famous story is the account of his rescue by Pocahontas,
but many historians have doubted the tale. Smith is the only person
who says it happened. The facts are these: During the first hard winter,
1607-1608, when Smith was scouting for provisions, he was captured by
the Indians and taken to the chief, Powhatan, father of Pocahontas. After
three weeks the chief sent him back to Jamestown. When Smith first wrote
about his experiences a few months later, he never mentioned Pocahontas.</p>
<p>Years later, in England, Smith wrote a history of Virginia and, for the
first time, told the story of Pocahontas. Between the time Smith was captured
and the time he wrote his history, Pocahontas had married an Englishman.
Her husband had brought her to England, where she had been
a sensation. One cannot help feeling that Smith “remembered” more than
actually happened in order to exploit public interest in the Indian princess.
His account, however, is a good story, even if it happened only in his mind.
Pocahontas was a real person who visited Jamestown often and brought
food to the starving settlers during their worst times. Many Americans like
to think the episode is true, and the tale has become part of our folklore,
like the legendary deeds of Davy Crockett. Here is Smith’s story:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>At last they brought him [<i>note that here Smith writes of himself
in the third person</i>] to Meronocomoco where was Powhatan, their
emperor. Here more than two hundred of those grim courtiers stood
wondering at him, as he had been a monster.... Before a fire upon
a seat like a bedstead he sat covered with a great robe made of
raccoon skins and all the tails hanging by. On either hand did sit
a young wench of 16 or 18 years, and along on each side [<i>of</i>] the
<span class="pb" id="Page_8">8</span>
house two rows of men, and behind them as many women, with all
their heads and shoulders painted red. Many of their heads [<i>were</i>]
bedecked with the white down of birds; but everyone with something,
and a great chain of white beads about their necks.</p>
<p>At his entrance before the king, all the people gave a great shout.
The Queen of Appamatuck was appointed to bring him water to
wash his hands, and another brought him a bunch of feathers instead
of a towel to dry them. Having feasted him after their best
barbarous manner they could, a long consultation was held, but the
conclusion was [<i>that</i>] two great stones were brought before Powhatan.
Then as many as could, laid hands on him, dragged him to
them, and thereon laid his head, and being ready with their clubs
to beat out his brains, Pocahontas, the king’s dearest daughter, when
no entreaty could prevail, got his head in her arms and laid her own
upon his to save him from death; whereat the emperor was contented
he should live to make him hatchets, and her bells, beads, and
copper; for they thought him as well [<i>capable</i>] of all occupations as
themselves. For the king himself will make his own robes, shoes,
bows, arrows, pots; plant, hunt, or do anything so well as the rest....</p>
<p>Two days after, Powhatan having disguised himself in the most
fearfullest manner he could, caused Captain Smith to be brought
forth to a great house in the woods, and there upon a mat by the
fire to be left alone. Not long after from behind a mat that divided
the house was made the most dolefullest noise he ever heard. Then
Powhatan, more like a devil than a man, with some two hundred
more as black as himself, came unto him and told him now they
were friends and presently he should go to Jamestown.... So to
Jamestown with 12 guides Powhatan sent him.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>In another place in the history, Smith prints a letter he wrote to the
Queen of England at the time Pocahontas visited London. In this letter he
tells more about the Indian girl and describes her as a sort of guardian
angel for the colony:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>[<i>Pocahontas</i>] so prevailed with her father that I was safely conducted
to Jamestown, where I found about eight and thirty miserable
poor and sick creatures to keep possession of all those large
<span class="pb" id="Page_9">9</span>
territories of Virginia; such was the weakness of this poor commonwealth.
Had the savages not fed us, we directly had starved. And
this relief, most gracious Queen, was commonly brought us by
this Lady Pocahontas.</p>
<p>Notwithstanding all these passages, when inconstant fortune
turned our peace to war, this tender virgin would still not spare to
dare to visit us, and by her our jars [<i>distresses</i>] have been oft appeased
and our wants still supplied. Were it the policy of her father
thus to employ her or the ordinance of God thus to make her His
instrument, or her extraordinary affection to our nation, I know not,
but of this I am sure; when her father with the utmost of his policy
and power sought to surprise me, having but 18 with me, the dark
night could not affright her from coming through the irksome woods;
and with watered eyes [<i>she</i>] gave me intelligence with her best advice
to escape his fury, which had he known he had surely slain her.</p>
<p>Jamestown with her wild train she as freely frequented as her
father’s habitation, and during the time of two or three years she
next under God was still the instrument to preserve this colony from
death, famine, and utter confusion.</p>
</blockquote>
<div class='chapter' /><h2 id="c5">The Founding of Plymouth</h2>
<h3 id="c6">William Bradford</h3>
<p>William Bradford (1590-1657) was the wise and able governor of the
Plymouth colony for thirty years. During this time he wrote the best account
we have of our colonial beginnings. His narrative, Of Plymouth Plantation,
as he called his work, is a great adventure story. The account of the little
band of Pilgrims who came to Massachusetts in 1620 is filled with hardships,
suffering, courage, and faith. The Pilgrims faced problems hard to
solve, for they landed on the bleak coast of New England at the beginning
of the winter. They were three thousand miles from home, friends, and
civilization, but they worked, prayed, and survived. The leadership of
William Bradford is one of the reasons that the Plymouth settlers were
able to survive on the rocky shores of Massachusetts.</p>
<p>Governor Bradford began his history of the colony soon after the
landing and worked on it, from time to time, for many years. The precious
manuscript was not published, but was kept in the family. Early historians
used it, and at the time of the Revolution it was kept in the library of the
Old South Church in Boston. During the war the manuscript was stolen,
<span class="pb" id="Page_10">10</span>
probably by a British soldier, and was lost for years. In the middle of the
nineteenth century, however, it was found in the library of the Bishop of
London. Various Americans tried to persuade the British to return the
historic document to America. Finally the American ambassador succeeded
in bringing the manuscript home in 1897, and it now is the property
of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.</p>
<p>If the manuscript were printed just as it was written, it would look very
strange. Bradford did not prepare it for publication, and thus used many
abbreviations and strange contractions. Also, the English language has
changed since the history was written. The following selections have been
pruned somewhat and words have been spelled out, but the governor’s
old-fashioned language is still not easy to read. Be patient and you will
understand it. It is a story of simple faith and courage.</p>
<p>The first part of the history describes the experiences of the Pilgrims
before they came to America. Because they disapproved of the Church of
England, they separated themselves from it. Hence the Pilgrims also are
known as Separatists. They first went to Holland, where they were able to
worship as they pleased. But that country was small and overpopulated.
They found it difficult to make a living there. Also, they feared their children
would grow up more Dutch than English. Therefore they decided,
after much discussion, to leave Europe for America. It was a hard decision,
and some of the Pilgrims were terrified at the prospect.</p>
<p>Some were afraid of the long sea voyage; others were afraid they would
starve to death. They worried about the change of air, diet, and drinking
water. They were fearful of the Indians and intimidated by the stories they
had heard. The Indians were said to be cruel, barbarous, treacherous—even
cannibal. But men like Bradford argued that “all great and honorable
actions were accompanied with great difficulties.” It was granted
that the difficulties were great and the dangers numerous. But with the
aid of God and courage and patience they would overcome the obstacles.
The brave ones persuaded most of the rest to go.</p>
<p>Thus they hired the Mayflower, a ship only ninety feet long, and left
Europe on September 6, 1620. For more than nine weeks they sailed westward.
At first they had fair winds, but then the autumn storms caught them
and the ship began to leak. Many of the crew wanted to turn back, but
emergency repairs were made, and Governor Bradford says: “They committed
themselves to the will of God and resolved to proceed.” Then he
continues:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="pb" id="Page_11">11</div>
<p>After long beating at sea they fell with that land which is
called Cape Cod; the which being made and certainly known to be it,
they were not a little joyful. After some deliberation had amongst
themselves and with the master of the ship, they tacked about and
resolved to stand for the southward (the wind and weather being
fair) to find some place about Hudson’s River for their habitation.
But after they had sailed that course about half the day, they fell
amongst dangerous shoals and roaring breakers, and they were so
far entangled therewith as they conceived themselves in great danger;
and the wind shrinking upon them withal, they resolved to bear up
again for the Cape, and thought themselves happy to get out of
those dangers before night overtook them, as by God’s good providence
they did.</p>
<p>Being thus arrived in a good harbor, and brought safe to land,
they fell upon their knees and blessed the God of Heaven, who had
brought them over the vast and furious ocean, and delivered them
from all the perils and miseries thereof, again to set their feet on
the firm and stable earth....</p>
<p>But here I cannot but stay and make a pause, and stand half
amazed at this poor people’s present condition; and so I think will the
reader, too, when he well considers the same. Being thus passed the
vast ocean, and a sea of troubles before in their preparation, they had
now no friends to welcome them nor inns to entertain or refresh
their weatherbeaten bodies; no houses or much less towns to repair
to, to seek for succour [<i>help</i>]. It is recorded in Scripture as a mercy
to the Apostle and his shipwrecked company that the barbarians
showed them no small kindness in refreshing them, but these savage
barbarians, when they met with them were readier to fill their sides
full of arrows than otherwise. And for the season it was winter,
and they that know the winters of that country know them to be
sharp and violent, and subject to cruel and fierce storms, dangerous
to travel to known places, much more to search an unknown coast.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_12">12</div>
<p>Besides, what could they see but a hideous and desolate wilderness,
full of wild beasts and wild men—and what multitudes there
might be of them they knew not. Neither could they, as it were, go
up to the top of Pisgah [<i>the mountain that Moses climbed to see the
Promised Land</i>] to view from this wilderness a more goodly country
to feed their hopes; for which way soever they turned their eyes
(save upward to the heavens) they could have little solace or content
in respect of any outward objects. For summer being done, all
things stand upon them with a weather-beaten face, and the whole
country, full of woods and thickets, represented a wild and savage
hue. If they looked behind them, there was the mighty ocean which
they had passed and was now as a main bar and gulf to separate
them from all the civil parts of the world....</p>
<p>What could now sustain them but the Spirit of God and His
grace? May not and ought not the children of these fathers rightly
say: “Our fathers were Englishmen which came over this great
ocean, and were ready to perish in this wilderness; but they cried
unto the Lord, and He heard their voice and looked on their adversity,”
etc. “Let them therefore praise the Lord, because He is
good; and His mercies endure forever. Yea, let them which have
been redeemed of the Lord, show how He hath delivered them from
the hand of the oppressor. When they wandered in the desert wilderness
out of the way, and found no city to dwell in, both hungry
and thirsty, their soul was overwhelmed in them. Let them confess
before the Lord His loving kindness and His wonderful works before
the sons of men.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>For the next three weeks the Pilgrims explored Cape Cod, looking for a
suitable place to land and build their homes. They found Plymouth Bay
and sailed the Mayflower into it on December 16. On Christmas Day,
1620, they began to erect the first house. But during their explorations
they were attacked by the Indians. This was on December 6:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>So they [<i>the exploring party</i>] ranged up and down all that day,
but found no people, nor any place they liked. When the sun grew
low, they hasted out of the woods to meet with their shallop [<i>small
boat</i>], to whom they made signs to come to them into a creek hard
by, which they did at high water; of which they were very glad, for
they had not seen each other all that day since the morning. So they
made them a barricade as usually they did every night, with logs,
<span class="pb" id="Page_13">13</span>
stakes and thick pine boughs, the height of a man, leaving it open
to leeward, partly to shelter them from the cold and wind (making
their fire in the middle and lying round about it) and partly to defend
them from any sudden assaults of the savages, if they should surround
them; so being very weary, they betook them to rest. But
about midnight they heard a hideous and great cry, and their sentinel
called, “Arm! arm!” So they bestirred them and stood to their arms
and shot off a couple of muskets, and then the noise ceased....</p>
<p>So they rested till about five of the clock in the morning; for the
tide, and their purpose to go from thence, made them be stirring betimes
[<i>early</i>]. So after prayer they prepared for breakfast, and it
being day dawning, it was thought best to be carrying things down
to the boat. But some said it was not best to carry the arms down;
others said they would be the readier, for they had lapped [<i>wrapped</i>]
them up in their coats [<i>as protection</i>] from the dew; but some three
or four would not carry theirs till they went themselves. Yet as it
fell out, the water being not high enough, they laid them down on
the bank side and came up to breakfast.</p>
<p>But presently, all on the sudden, they heard a great and strange
cry, which they knew to be the same voices they heard in the night,
though they varied their notes; and one of their company being
abroad came running in and cried, “Men, Indians! Indians!” And
withal, their arrows came flying amongst them. Their men ran
with all speed to recover their arms, as by the good providence
of God they did. In the meantime, of those that were there
ready, two muskets were discharged at them, and two more
stood ready in the entrance of their rendezvous but were commanded
not to shoot till they could take full aim at them. And the other two
charged again with all speed, for there were only four [<i>who</i>] had
arms there, and defended the barricade, which was first assaulted.</p>
<p>The cry of the Indians was dreadful, especially when they saw
there men run out of the rendezvous toward the shallop to recover
their arms, the Indians wheeling about upon them. But some running
out with coats of mail on, and cutlasses in their hands, they soon
got their arms and let fly amongst them and quickly stopped their
violence. Yet there was a lusty man, and no less valiant, [<i>who</i>] stood
behind a tree within half a musket shot, and let his arrows fly at
them; he was seen [<i>to</i>] shoot three arrows, which were all avoided.
<span class="pb" id="Page_14">14</span>
He stood three shots of a musket, till one taking full aim at him made
the bark or splinters of the tree fly about his ears, after which he
gave an extraordinary shriek and away they went, all of them....</p>
<p>Thus it pleased God to vanquish their enemies and give them
deliverance; and by His special providence so to dispose that not any
one of them were either hurt or hit, though their arrows came close
by them and on every side [<i>of</i>] them; and sundry [<i>several</i>] of their
coats, which hung up in the barricade, were shot through and
through. Afterwards they gave God solemn thanks and praise for
their deliverance, and gathered up a bundle of their arrows and
sent them into England afterward by the master of the ship, and
called that place the First Encounter.</p>
<h4>THE STARVING TIME</h4>
<p>But that which was most sad and lamentable was, that in two
or three months’ time half of their company died, especially in
January and February, being the depth of winter, and wanting
houses and other comforts; being infected with the scurvy and other
diseases which this long voyage and their inaccommodate [<i>unfit</i>]
condition had brought upon them. So as there died sometimes two
or three of a day in the foresaid time, that of 100 and odd persons,
scarce fifty remained. And of these, in the time of most distress, there
was but six or seven sound persons who to their great commendations,
be it spoken, spared no pains night nor day, but with abundance
of toil and hazard of their own health fetched them wood,
made them fires, dressed them meat, made their beds, washed their
loathsome clothes, clothed and unclothed them; in a word, did all
the homely and necessary offices for them which dainty and queasy
stomachs cannot endure to hear named; and all this willingly and
cheerfully, without any grudging in the least, showing herein their
true love unto their friends and brethren; a rare example and worthy
to be remembered.</p>
<p>Two of these seven were Mr. William Brewster, their reverend
Elder [<i>Brewster conducted religious services during the early days
of the Plymouth colony, though he was not an ordained minister</i>],
and Myles Standish, their Captain and military commander, unto
whom myself and many others were much beholden [<i>indebted</i>] in
<span class="pb" id="Page_15">15</span>
our low and sick condition. And yet the Lord so upheld these persons
as in this general calamity they were not at all infected either
with sickness or lameness. And what I have said of these I may say
of many others who died in this general visitation, and others yet
living, that whilst they had health, yea, or any strength continuing,
they were not wanting to any that had need of them. And I doubt
not but their recompense is with the Lord.</p>
<h4>SQUANTO</h4>
<p>All this while the Indians came skulking about them, and would
sometimes show themselves aloof off, but when any approached
near them, they would run away; and once they stole away their
tools where they had been at work and were gone to dinner. But
about the 16th of March, a certain Indian came boldly amongst them
and spoke to them in broken English, which they could well understand
but marveled at it. At length they understood by discourse
with him that he was not of these parts, but belonged to the eastern
parts where some English ships came to fish, with whom he was acquainted
and could name sundry of them by their names, amongst
whom he had got his language. He became profitable to them in
acquainting them with many things concerning the state of the country
in the east parts where he lived.... His name was Samaset. He
told them also of another Indian whose name was Squanto, a native
of this place, who had been in England and could speak better English
than himself.</p>
<p>Being, after some time of entertainment and gifts dismissed, a
while after he came again, and five more with him, and they brought
again all the tools that were stolen away before, and made way for
the coming of their great Sachem [<i>chief</i>], called Massasoit, who,
about four or five days after, came with the chief [<i>part</i>] of his friends
and other attendance, with the aforesaid Squanto....</p>
<p>Squanto continued with them and was their interpreter and was
a special instrument sent of God for their good beyond their expectation.
He directed them how to set [<i>plant</i>] their corn, where to take
fish, and to procure other commodities, and was also their pilot to
bring them to unknown places for their profit, and never left them
till he died.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_16">16</div>
<h4>THE FIRST THANKSGIVING</h4>
<p>They began now to gather in the small harvest they had, and to
fit up their houses and dwellings against winter, being all well recovered
in health and strength and had all things in good plenty. For
as some were thus employed in affairs abroad, others were exercised
in fishing, about cod and bass and other fish, of which they took good
store, of which every family had their portion. All the summer there
was no want; and now began to come in store of fowl, as winter approached,
of which this place did abound when they came first....
And besides waterfowl there was great store of wild turkeys, of
which they took many, besides venison, etc. Besides they had about
a peck of meal a week to a person, or now since harvest, Indian
corn to that proportion. Which made many afterwards write so
largely of their plenty here to their friends in England, which were
not feigned [<i>pretended</i>] but true reports.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Governor Bradford’s history does not describe the first Thanksgiving
dinner, but we have a letter written by Edward Winslow to a friend in
England, in which Winslow gives details of the feast that followed the
harvest. Governor Bradford sent out four hunters who returned with
enough wild fowl to last the colony a week. The Pilgrims then held a celebration
which was attended by Massasoit and ninety of his braves. The
Indians contributed five deer for the feast, which lasted three days.</p>
<p>Soon afterwards, however, another shipload of settlers arrived on the
Fortune. The new colonists come without equipment and provisions. In
order to feed the newcomers the Plymouth colony had to go on half rations
for the following winter. Next, the colony had more Indian trouble, not
with Massasoit’s friendly tribe, but with the Narragansett Indians. In the
following selection from Bradford’s history the Governor summarizes the
end of 1621, the first full year of the colony:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Soon after this ship’s [<i>the Fortune’s</i>] departure, the great people
of the Narragansetts, in a braving manner, sent a messenger
unto them with a bundle of arrows tied about with a great snake-skin,
which their interpreters told them was a threatening and a
challenge. Upon which the Governor, with the advice of others,
sent them a round answer that if they had rather have war than
<span class="pb" id="Page_17">17</span>
peace, they might begin when they would; they had done them no
wrong, neither did they fear them or should they find them unprovided
[<i>unprepared</i>]. And by another messenger [<i>he</i>] sent the snake-skin
back with bullets in it. But they would not receive it, but sent
it back again....</p>
<p>But this made them [<i>the settlers</i>] the more carefully to look to
themselves, so as they agreed to enclose their dwellings with a good
strong pale [<i>fence</i>], and make flankers [<i>fortifications</i>] in convenient
places with gates to shut, which were every night locked, and a watch
kept; and when need required, there was also warding [<i>guarding</i>]
in the daytime. And the company was by the Captain’s and the
Governor’s advice divided into four squadrons, and everyone had
their quarter appointed them, unto which they were to repair upon
any sudden alarm. And if there should be any cry of fire, a company
were appointed for a guard, with muskets, whilst others quenched
the same, to prevent Indian treachery. This was accomplished very
cheerfully, and the town impaled round by the beginning of March
[<i>1622</i>], in which every family had a pretty garden plot secured.</p>
</blockquote>
<h3 id="c7">John Winthrop <span class="ssn">1588-1649</span></h3>
<p>The Puritans who settled Boston in 1630 came to the New World with
plenty of supplies and equipment. There were more than a thousand new
colonists in the Massachusetts Bay settlements by the end of the year.
These people had the strength of numbers and did not suffer the terrible
privations of the Plymouth colony, but they still had to beat back the
wilderness and squeeze a living from the thin soil of New England.</p>
<p>What William Bradford was to the Plymouth colony, John Winthrop
was to Massachusetts Bay. Both colonies were fortunate in having good,
resourceful governors. John Winthrop was re-elected governor many times
between the time his flagship, the <i>Arbella</i>, dropped anchor in Boston harbor
and his death in 1649.</p>
<h3 id="c8">Cotton Mather Describes John Winthrop</h3>
<p>The two selections which follow pertain to Governor Winthrop. The
first is part of Cotton Mather’s biographical sketch of the governor. It
comes from Mather’s <i>Magnalia Christi Americana</i> (1702), which means the
“American Annals of Christ.” Cotton Mather himself was a famous Puritan
minister, the grandson of one of the early settlers and a historian of the
colony. The other selection consists of two of John Winthrop’s letters to
his wife, who remained in England until after the colony was established.
<span class="pb" id="Page_18">18</span>
These are touching letters that show the wise governor as a loving husband
and a devout Christian.</p>
<blockquote>
<h4>MATHER’S SKETCH OF WINTHROP</h4>
<p>Accordingly when the noble design of carrying a colony of
chosen people into an American wilderness was by some eminent
persons undertaken, this eminent person was, by the consent of all,
chosen for the Moses who must be the leader of so great an undertaking.
And indeed nothing but a Mosaic spirit could have carried
him through the temptations to which either his farewell to his own
land or his travel in a strange land must needs expose a gentleman
of his education. Wherefore having sold a fair estate of six or seven
hundred [<i>pounds</i>] a year, he transported himself with the effects of
it into New England in the year 1630, where he spent it upon the
service of a famous plantation founded and formed for the seat of
the most reformed Christianity....</p>
<p>But at the same time his liberality unto the needy was even beyond
measure generous.... ’Twas his custom also to send some of
his family upon errands unto the houses of the poor about their meal
time on purpose to spy whether they wanted; and if it were found
that they wanted, he would make that the opportunity of sending
supplies unto them. And there was one passage of his charity that
was perhaps a little unusual. In an hard and long winter, when wood
was very scarce at Boston, a man gave him a private information
that a needy person in the neighborhood stole wood sometimes from
his pile; whereupon the Governor in a seeming anger did reply,
“Does he so? I’ll take a course with him; go, call that man to me;
I’ll warrant you I’ll cure him of stealing!”</p>
<p>When the man came, the Governor, considering that if he had
stolen, it was more out of necessity than disposition, said unto him:
“Friend, it is a severe winter, and I doubt you are but meanly provided
for wood; wherefore I would have you supply yourself at my
woodpile till this cold season be over.” And he then merrily asked
his friends whether he had not effectually cured this man of stealing
his wood?...</p>
<p>There was a time when he received a very sharp letter from a
gentleman who was a member of the court, but he delivered back
<span class="pb" id="Page_19">19</span>
the letter unto the messengers that brought it with such a Christian
speech as this: “I am not willing to keep such a matter of provocation
by me!” Afterwards the same gentleman was compelled by the
scarcity of provisions to send unto him that he would sell him some
of his cattle; whereupon the Governor prayed him to accept what he
had sent for as a token of his good will; but the gentleman returned
him this answer: “Sir, your overcoming of yourself hath overcome
me.”</p>
<h4>THE FIRST LETTER: BEFORE LEAVING ENGLAND</h4>
<p>My Faithful and Dear Wife,—It pleaseth God, that thou
shouldst once again hear from me before our departure, and I hope
this shall come safe to thy hands. I know it will be a great refreshing
to thee. And blessed be His mercy, that I can write thee so good
news, that we are all in very good health, and, having tried our ship’s
entertainment now more than a week, we find it agrees very well
with us. Our boys are well and cheerful, and have no mind of home.
They lie both with me, and sleep as soundly in a rug (for we use no
sheets here) as ever they did at Groton; and so I do myself (I praise
God).</p>
<p>The wind hath been against us this week and more; but this day
it is come fair to the north, so as we are preparing (by God’s assistance)
to set sail in the morning. We have only four ships ready, and
some two or three Hollanders go along with us. The rest of our fleet
(being seven ships) will not be ready this sennight [<i>for a week</i>].
We have spent now two Sabbaths on shipboard very comfortably
(God be praised) and are daily more and more encouraged to look
for the Lord’s presence to go along with us....</p>
<p>We are, in all our eleven ships, about seven hundred persons,
passengers, and two hundred and forty cows, and about sixty horses.
The ship, which went from Plymouth, carried about one hundred
and forty persons, and the ship, which goes from Bristol, carrieth
about eighty persons. And now (my sweet soul) I must once again
take my last farewell of thee in Old England. It goeth very near my
heart to leave thee; but I know to Whom I have committed thee,
even to Him Who loves thee much better than any husband can, Who
hath taken account of the hairs of thy head, and puts all thy tears
<span class="pb" id="Page_20">20</span>
in His bottle, Who can, and (if it be for His glory) will bring us
together again with peace and comfort. Oh, how it refresheth my
heart, to think, that I shall yet again see thy sweet face in the land
of the living!—that lovely countenance that I have so much delighted
in and beheld with so great content!</p>
<p>I have hitherto been so taken up with business, as I could seldom
look back to my former happiness, but now when I shall be
at some leisure, I shall not avoid the remembrance of thee, nor the
grief for thy absence. Thou hast thy share with me, but I hope the
course we have agreed upon will be some ease to us both. Mondays
and Fridays, at five of the clock at night, we shall meet in spirit till
we meet in person. Yet if all these hopes should fail, blessed be
our God, that we are assured we shall meet one day, if not as husband
and wife, yet in a better condition. Let that stay and comfort
thy heart. Neither can the sea drown thy husband, nor enemies destroy,
nor any adversity deprive thee of thy husband or children.</p>
<p>Therefore I will only take thee now and my sweet children in
mine arms, and kiss and embrace you all, and so leave you with my
God. Farewell, farewell. I bless you all in the name of the Lord Jesus.
I salute my daughter Winth., Matt., Nan., and the rest, and all my
good neighbors and friends. Pray all for us. Farewell. Commend my
blessing to my son John. I cannot now write to him, but tell him I
have committed thee and thine to him. Labor to draw him yet nearer
to God, and he will be the surer staff of comfort to thee. I cannot
name the rest of my good friends, but thou canst supply it. I wrote
a week since to thee and Mr. Leigh and divers others.
<span class="center">Thine wheresoever,</span>
<span class="lr">Jo. Winthrop</span></p>
<dl class="undent"><dt>From aboard the ARBELLA, riding at the COWES.</dt>
<dt>March 28, 1630</dt></dl>
<h4>THE SECOND LETTER: FROM MASSACHUSETTS BAY</h4>
<p class="jr1">Charlestown in New England
<br />July 16, 1630</p>
<p>My Dear Wife,—Blessed be the Lord, our good God and merciful
Father, that yet hath preserved me in life and health to salute thee,
<span class="pb" id="Page_21">21</span>
and to comfort thy long longing heart with the joyful news of my
welfare, and the welfare of thy beloved children.</p>
<p>We had a long and troublesome passage, but the Lord made it
safe and easy to us; and though we have met with many and great
troubles (as this bearer can certify thee) yet He hath pleased to uphold
us, and give us hope of a happy issue.</p>
<p>I am so overpressed with business, as I have no time for these or
other mine own private occasions. I only write now that thou mayest
know that yet I live and am mindful of thee in all my affairs. The
larger discourse of all things thou shalt receive from my brother
Downing, which I must send by some of the last ships. We have met
with many sad and discomfortable things, as thou shalt hear after,
and the Lord’s hand hath been heavy upon myself in some very near
to me. My son Henry! my son Henry! ah, poor child! [<i>His son Henry
was drowned on the day the ship landed.</i>] Yet it grieves me much
more for my dear daughter. The Lord strengthen and comfort her
heart, to bear this cross patiently. I know thou wilt not be wanting
to her in this distress. Yet for all these things (I praise my God) I
am not discouraged; nor do I see cause to repent or despair of those
good days here, which will make amends for all.</p>
<p>I shall expect thee next summer (if the Lord please) and by that
time I hope to be provided for thy comfortable entertainment. My
most sweet wife, be not disheartened; trust in the Lord, and thou
shalt see His faithfulness.</p>
<p>Commend me heartily to all our kind friends ... and all the rest
of my neighbors and their wives, both rich and poor....</p>
<p>The good Lord be with thee and bless thee and all our children
and servants.</p>
<p>Commend my love to them all; I kiss and embrace thee, my dear
wife, and all my children, and leave thee in His arms, Who is able to
preserve you all, and to fulfill our joy in our happy meeting in His
good time. Amen.</p>
<p><span class="center">Thy faithful husband,</span>
<span class="lr">Jo. Winthrop.</span></p>
</blockquote>
<div class="pb" id="Page_22">22</div>
<div class='chapter' /><h2 id="c9">Religious Life in America</h2>
<div class="img" id="fig2">
<img src="images/i3.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="650" />
<p class="caption">“The Witch”</p>
</div>
<div class='chapter' /><h2 id="c10">New England</h2>
<p>Religion played a vital role in the lives of our colonial ancestors.
Massachusetts and Virginia began during an age when men were fighting
religious wars in Europe. The Puritans came to America so that they could
worship God in their own manner. Even the Virginians, who came for more
worldly reasons, took their religion very seriously. Almost nowhere in the
world in those days did people believe that religion was a private matter
between man and God. The Puritans were extremely intolerant of other
religions and persecuted Quakers, Catholics, and Jews alike. They even
persecuted each other. Roger Williams, who founded Rhode Island, was
banished from Massachusetts for his opinions, and innocent women were
hanged in Salem because they were thought to be witches. The intolerance
<span class="pb" id="Page_23">23</span>
and persecution of the seventeenth century are well known, but one
should not overlook the admirable piety and intense love of God that
these people also had.</p>
<h3 id="c11">Edward Taylor 1645-1729</h3>
<p>The following selections were written by Edward Taylor, the most important
American poet of the Puritan period. He preached in a frontier
town of western Massachusetts and wrote poetry privately to express his
great love for God. Because his poems were so personal, he did not want
them published, and they remained in manuscript for more than 200
years. Finally they were found in a dusty corner of the Yale University
Library.</p>
<p>In the following poem, Taylor imagines himself in heaven looking down
on his fellow New England Puritans, who are on their way to heaven in
a horse-drawn coach—Christ’s coach—which, of course, means figuratively
that they are going to heaven through believing in Christ. These
New England saints are singing at the top of their lungs, happy that they
are in Christ’s coach, but you will note that the harmony is not perfect. Man
is a sinful creature and sometimes, says Taylor, the singers get out of tune.
Also, he notes, there isn’t room in the coach for everyone, and some have
to walk.</p>
<h6>The Joy of Church Fellowship Rightly Attended</h6>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">In heaven soaring up, I dropt an ear</p>
<p class="t3">On earth, and oh! sweet melody!</p>
<p class="t0">And listening, found it was the saints who were</p>
<p class="t3">Encoached for heaven that sang for joy.</p>
<p class="t3">For in Christ’s coach they sweetly sing,</p>
<p class="t3">As they to glory ride therein.</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">Oh! joyous hearts! Enfired with holy flame!</p>
<p class="t3">Is speech thus tasseled with praise?</p>
<p class="t0">Will not your inward fire of joy contain</p>
<p class="t3">That it in open flames doth blaze?</p>
<p class="t3">For in Christ’s coach saints sweetly sing,</p>
<p class="t3">As they to glory ride therein.</p>
</div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_24">24</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">And if a string do slip, by chance, they soon</p>
<p class="t4">Do screw it up again: whereby</p>
<p class="t0">They set it in a more melodious tune</p>
<p class="t3">And a diviner harmony.</p>
<p class="t3">For in Christ’s coach they sweetly sing,</p>
<p class="t3">As they to glory ride therein.</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">In all their acts, public and private, nay,</p>
<p class="t3">And secret too, they praise impart.</p>
<p class="t0">But in their acts divine and worship, they</p>
<p class="t3">With hymns do offer up their heart.</p>
<p class="t3">Thus in Christ’s coach they sweetly sing,</p>
<p class="t3">As they to glory ride therein.</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">Some few not in, and some whose time and place</p>
<p class="t3">Block up this coach’s way, do go</p>
<p class="t0">As travelers afoot: and so do trace</p>
<p class="t3">The road that gives them right thereto;</p>
<p class="t3">While in this coach these sweetly sing,</p>
<p class="t3">As they to glory ride therein.</p>
</div>
<p>Next, Taylor’s great love of God is expressed in a beautiful figure of
speech in which the poet wants God to use him as a housewife uses wool
to make yarn and yarn to make cloth. In the first stanza, he asks God to
make him into a spinning wheel, of which the flyers, distaff, spool, and
reel all are parts. In the second stanza, Taylor wants to be a loom on
which God can weave holy robes. A fulling mill is a place where cloth
is dyed. Finally, the poet wants God to clothe him in the holy robes made
on this imaginary loom. This poem is a highly original way to ask God
to give one faith, love, and understanding. You should consider it a prayer.</p>
<h6>Housewifery</h6>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">Make me, O Lord, Thy spinning-wheel complete;</p>
<p class="t3">Thy holy Word my distaff make for me;</p>
<p class="t0">Make mine affections Thy swift flyers neat;</p>
<p class="t3">And make my soul Thy holy spool to be;</p>
<p class="t3">My conversation make to be Thy reel,</p>
<p class="t3">And reel the yarn thereon, spun of Thy wheel.</p>
</div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_25">25</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">Make me Thy loom then; knit therein this twine;</p>
<p class="t3">And make Thy Holy Spirit, Lord, wind quills;</p>
<p class="t0">Then weave the web Thyself. The yarn is fine.</p>
<p class="t3">Thine ordinances make my fulling mills.</p>
<p class="t3">Then dye the same in heavenly colors choice,</p>
<p class="t3">All pinked with varnished flowers of paradise.</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">Then clothe therewith mine understanding, will,</p>
<p class="t3">Affections, judgment, conscience, memory,</p>
<p class="t0">My words and actions, that their shine may fill</p>
<p class="t3">My ways with glory and Thee glorify.</p>
<p class="t3">Then mine apparel shall display before Ye</p>
<p class="t3">That I am clothed in holy robes for glory.</p>
</div>
<h3 id="c12">The Salem Witch Trials</h3>
<p>During the seventeenth century, the superstitions of the Middle Ages
had not yet relaxed their hold on men’s minds. People still believed in
witches, even such a prominent clergyman as Cotton Mather. Hence, the
events of 1692 in Salem, Massachusetts, are understandable, though they
are nonetheless tragic. Early that year Betty Parris and Abigail Williams,
who were nine and eleven years old, began having strange fits. Soon the
mysterious disease spread to other girls in the village. When the local
doctor, with his primitive knowledge of medicine, could not diagnose the
trouble, he concluded that the devil must have bewitched the girls.</p>
<p>This diagnosis did not surprise anyone. The New England Puritans believed
that the devil was always at work trying to tempt them from the
path of righteousness. The parents of the children set about to discover
the identity of the devil’s agent who was tormenting their girls. They questioned
the children at length until the children really began to believe
they were bewitched. Betty and Abigail then accused three women in the
community of practicing witchcraft: Tituba, an illiterate slave from Barbados;
Sarah Good, a sharp-tongued woman whom many in the village
thought a nuisance; and Sarah Osburne, a backslider who did not go to
church. No one was surprised when these women were named as witches.
The town proceeded to examine the three on charges of practicing witchcraft.
John Hathorne, ancestor of the novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne, conducted
the hearing in the village church.</p>
<p>The first of the accused to be questioned was Sarah Good, who denied
the charges with vigor. Then came Sarah Osburne, who was dragged
<span class="pb" id="Page_26">26</span>
out of a sickbed to testify. She, too, denied the charges. But, every time
these women denied the charges the children became hysterical and went
into their fits. Finally, the old slave Tituba was questioned. She apparently
decided that she should tell her accusers what they wanted to hear, and she
concocted a wild tale of witchcraft out of her rich imagination. The selections
that follow are actual transcripts of the testimony taken down that
infamous day, March 1, 1692, in Salem by the village clerk. The proceedings
have been edited just enough to make them readable.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>HATHORNE: Sarah Good, what evil spirit have you familiarity
with?</p>
<p>GOOD: None.</p>
<p>H: Have you made no contract with the devil?</p>
<p>G: No.</p>
<p>H: Why do you hurt these children?</p>
<p>G: I do not hurt them. I scorn it.</p>
<p>H: Who do you employ then to do it?</p>
<p>G: I employ nobody.</p>
<p>H: What creature do you employ then?</p>
<p>G: No creature; I am falsely accused.</p>
<p>H: Why did you go away muttering from Mr. Parris’ house?</p>
<p>G: I did not mutter, but I thanked him for what he gave my child.</p>
<p>H: Have you made no contract with the devil?</p>
<p>G: No.</p>
<p>Judge Hathorne desired the children, all of them, to look upon
her and see if this were the person that had hurt them, and so they
all did look upon her and said this was one of the persons that did
torment them. Presently they were all tormented.</p>
<p>H: Sarah Good, do you not see now what you have done? Why
do you not tell us the truth? Why do you thus torment these poor
children?</p>
<p>G: I do not torment them.</p>
<p>H: Who do you employ then?</p>
<p>G: I employ nobody. I scorn it.</p>
<p>H: How came they thus tormented?</p>
<p>G: What do I know? You bring others here, and now you charge
me with it.</p>
<p>H: Why who was it?</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_27">27</div>
<p>G: I do not know, but it was someone you brought into the meeting
house with you.</p>
<p>H: We brought you into the meeting house.</p>
<p>G: But you brought in two more.</p>
<p>H: Who was it then that tormented the children?</p>
<p>G: It was Osburne.</p>
<p>H: What is it you say when you go muttering away from persons’
houses?</p>
<p>G: If I must tell, I will tell.</p>
<p>H: Do tell us then.</p>
<p>G: It is the commandments. I may say my commandments, I hope.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The testimony went on for a while longer. Sarah Good continued to be
a very uncooperative witness, but finally Judge Hathorne finished with her
and called Sarah Osburne to the stand.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>HATHORNE: What evil spirit have you familiarity with?</p>
<p>OSBURNE: None.</p>
<p>H: Have you made no contract with the devil?</p>
<p>O: No, I never saw the devil in my life.</p>
<p>H: Why do you hurt these children?</p>
<p>O: I do not hurt them.</p>
<p>H: Who do you employ then to hurt them?</p>
<p>O: I employ nobody.</p>
<p>H: What familiarity have you with Sarah Good?</p>
<p>O: None. I have not seen her these two years.</p>
<p>H: Where did you see her then?</p>
<p>O: One day a-going to town.</p>
<p>H: What communications had you with her?</p>
<p>O: I had none, only, how do you do or so. I did not know her
name.</p>
<p>H: What did you call her then?</p>
<p>[<i>At this point Sarah Osburne had to admit that she had called
her Sarah.</i>]</p>
<p>H: Sarah Good saith that it was you that hurt the children.</p>
<p>O: I do not know if the devil goes about in my likeness to do any
hurt.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_28">28</div>
<p>Mr. Hathorne desired all the children to stand up and look upon
her and see if they did know her, which they all did, and every one of
them said that this was one of the women that did afflict them and
that they had constantly seen her in the very habit that she was
now in.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The evidence continued. In a feeble effort to gain sympathy, she said
that she “was more like to be bewitched than that she was a witch.” Mr.
Hathorne asked her what made her say this. She answered that she was
frightened one time in her sleep and either saw or dreamed that she saw
a thing “like an Indian all black which did prick her in the neck and pulled
her by the back part of her head to the door of the house.” Mr. Hathorne
asked her if she had seen anything else. She replied that she had not. At
this point, however, some of the spectators said that Sarah Osburne also
had heard the voice of a lying spirit.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>H: Hath the devil ever deceived you and been false to you?</p>
<p>O: I do not know the devil. I never did see him.</p>
<p>H: What lying spirit was it then?</p>
<p>O: It was a voice that I thought I heard.</p>
<p>H: What did it propound to you?</p>
<p>O: That I should go no more to meeting, but I said I would and
did go the next Sabbath day.</p>
<p>H: Were you never tempted further?</p>
<p>O: No.</p>
<p>H: Why did you yield thus far to the devil as never to go to meeting
since?</p>
<p>O: Alas! I have been sick and not able to go.</p>
<p>Sarah Osburne was then dismissed from the stand, and Mr. Hathorne
began to question Tituba, the slave, who told her questioners just what
they wanted to hear.</p>
<p>HATHORNE: Did you never see the devil?</p>
<p>TITUBA: The devil came to me and bid me serve him....</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_29">29</div>
<p>H: What service?</p>
<p>T: Hurt the children, and last night there was an appearance
[<i>apparition</i>] that said to kill the children and if I would not go on
hurting the children they would do worse to me.</p>
<p>H: What is this appearance you see?</p>
<p>T: Sometimes he is like a hog and sometimes like a great dog.</p>
<p>H: What did it say to you?</p>
<p>T: The black dog said, “Serve me,” but I said, “I am afraid.” He
said if I did not he would do worse to me.</p>
<p>H: What did you say to it?</p>
<p>T: I will serve you no longer. Then he said he would hurt me, and
then he looked like a man. This man had a yellow bird that he kept
with him, and he told me he had more pretty things that he would
give me if I would serve him....</p>
<p>H: Did you not pinch Elizabeth Hubbard this morning?</p>
<p>T: The man brought her to me and made me pinch her.</p>
<p>H: Why did you go to Thomas Putnam’s last night and hurt his
child?</p>
<p>T: They pull and haul me and make me go....</p>
<p>H: How did you go?</p>
<p>T: We ride upon sticks and are there presently.</p>
<p>H: Why did you not tell your master?</p>
<p>T: I was afraid. They said they would cut off my head if I told....</p>
<p>H: Did not you hurt Mr. Corwin’s child?</p>
<p>T: Goody [<i>Mrs.</i>] Good and Goody Osburne told me that they did
hurt Mr. Corwin’s child and would have had me hurt him too, but I
did not....</p>
<p>H: Do you see who it is that torments these children now?</p>
<p>T: Yes, it is Goody Good. She hurts them now in her own shape.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And so the testimony went. Tituba’s story was even more sensational
when she described the “tall man of Boston,” who was supposed to be a
wizard in charge of all the local witches. The court adjourned for the day,
convinced that the devil had chosen Salem as a special point of attack.
Soon, other people in the village began imagining that they, too, were
being pursued by witches. Neighbor began accusing neighbor until the
whole community was swept up by the hysteria.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_30">30</div>
<p>Throughout the summer of 1692, Salem was gripped by the witch hunt.
Twenty persons were executed for witchcraft; 55 were frightened or tortured
into confessing their guilt; 150 were jailed; more than 200 were
denounced by former friends and neighbors. For a time it looked as if
Massachusetts had gone mad. But when the denunciations began to include
some of the most prominent members of the community, such as
the acting president of Harvard College, the authorities knew the hysteria
had to stop or it would destroy the colony. In September the trials were
halted and the jails emptied. In succeeding years many people repented
their part in the tragic business, and the state even restored some of the
property confiscated from the so-called witches.</p>
<h3 id="c13">Samuel Sewall’s Confession of Error</h3>
<p>Five years after the unhappy episode ended, one of the judges, Samuel
Sewall, courageously made public confession of error. As the minister read
aloud Sewall’s confession of shame, the judge stood in his pew with head
bowed.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“Samuel Sewall, sensible of the reiterated strokes of God upon
himself and family, and being sensible that as to the guilt contracted
upon the opening of the late commission of Oyer and Terminer at
Salem [<i>the trials</i>], to which the order for this Day relates, he is,
upon many accounts, more concerned than any that he knows of,
desires to take the blame and shame of it, asking pardon of men and
especially desiring prayers that God, Who has an unlimited authority,
would pardon that sin and all other his sins, personal and relative:
and according to His infinite benignity and sovereignty not visit the
sin of him or of any other upon himself or any of his, nor upon the
land: but that He would powerfully defend him against all temptations
to sin for the future and vouchsafe him the efficacious saving
conduct of His word and spirit.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Thereafter, for the rest of his life, Samuel Sewall observed one day
of prayer and fasting each year as penance for his part in the Salem
witch trials.</p>
<h3 id="c14">The Great Awakening</h3>
<p>Within a century after the Puritan migration to New England, life in
the colonies was changing. New England Puritans were becoming Yankee
<span class="pb" id="Page_31">31</span>
traders, and the religious fervor that brought Bradford and Winthrop and
their followers to the New World was dying out. At this time there appeared
upon the American scene a great preacher and theologian,
Jonathan Edwards. After entering Yale College at the age of 13, he had
gone on to study theology and then enter the ministry. By 1729 he had
succeeded his grandfather as pastor of the village church in Northampton,
Massachusetts. During his ministry in Northampton, Edwards led a great
revival movement, which has come to be known as the Great Awakening.
It was an effort to rekindle the dying sparks of Puritanism, and for a time
it brought new religious vitality to New England. The movement also
spread to other colonies.</p>
<p>During the Great Awakening Edwards made many converts. While he
was doing this, he also was concerned with the psychology of religious
enthusiasm. One of his most interesting books is called Narrative of Surprising
Conversions. In it he records some of the more remarkable effects
of the revival movement that he led. The account of four-year-old Phebe
Bartlet’s conversion, which Edwards writes about in the following selection,
is an astonishing story. Phebe certainly was not a typical child, but the
fact that any child could undergo the religious experience Edwards describes
reminds us again that religion played a central role in the lives
of our colonial ancestors.</p>
<p>She was born in March, in the year 1731. About the latter end
of April, or beginning of May, 1735, she was greatly affected by the
talk of her brother, who had been hopefully converted a little before,
at about eleven years of age, and then seriously talked to her about
the great things of religion. Her parents did not know of it at that
time, and were not wont, in the counsels they gave to their children,
particularly to direct themselves to her, by reason of her being so
young, and, as they supposed, not capable of understanding; but
after her brother had talked to her, they observed her very earnestly
to listen to the advice they gave to the other children, and she was
observed very constantly to retire, several times in a day, as was
concluded, for secret prayer, and grew more and more engaged in
religion, and was more frequently in her closet, till at last she was
wont to visit it five or six times in a day, and was so engaged in it,
that nothing would, at any time, divert her from her stated closet exercises.
<span class="pb" id="Page_32">32</span>
Her mother often observed and watched her, when such
things occurred, as she thought most likely to divert her, either by
putting it out of her thoughts, or otherwise engaging her inclinations,
but never could observe her to fail. She mentioned some very remarkable
instances.</p>
<p>She once, of her own accord, spake of her unsuccessfulness, in
that she could not find God, or to that purpose. But on Thursday,
the last of July, about the middle of the day, the child being in the
closet, where it used to retire, its mother heard it speaking aloud,
which was unusual, and never had been observed before; and her
voice seemed to be as of one exceeding importunate and engaged, but
her mother could distinctly hear only these words (spoken in her
childish manner, but seemed to be spoken with extraordinary earnestness,
and out of distress of soul), “Pray BLESSED LORD, give
me salvation! I PRAY, BEG, pardon all my sins!” When the child
had done prayer, she came out of the closet, and came and sat down
by her mother, and cried out aloud. Her mother very earnestly
asked her several times, what the matter was, before she would make
any answer, but she continued exceedingly crying, and wreathing
her body to and fro, like one in anguish of spirit. Her mother then
asked her whether she was afraid that God would not give her salvation.
She then answered, “Yes, I am afraid I shall go to hell!” Her
mother then endeavored to quiet her, and told her she would not have
her cry—she must be a good girl, and pray every day, and she hoped
God would give her salvation. But this did not quiet her at all—but
she continued thus earnestly crying and taking on for some time,
till at length she suddenly ceased crying and began to smile, and
presently said with a smiling countenance, “Mother, the kingdom of
heaven is come to me!” Her mother was surprised at the sudden
alteration, and at the speech, and knew not what to make of it, but
at first said nothing to her....</p>
<p>The same day the elder children, when they came home from
school, seemed much affected with the extraordinary change that
seemed to be made in Phebe; and her sister Abigail standing by, her
mother took occasion to counsel her, now to improve her time, to
prepare for another world; on which Phebe burst out in tears, and
cried out, “Poor Nabby!” Her mother told her she would not have
her cry, she hoped that God would give Nabby salvation; but that
<span class="pb" id="Page_33">33</span>
did not quiet her, but she continued earnestly crying for some time;
and when she had in a measure ceased, her sister Eunice being by
her, she burst out again, and cried, “Poor Eunice!” and cried exceedingly;
and when she had almost done, she went into another
room, and there looked upon her sister Naomi, and burst out again,
crying, “Poor Amy!” Her mother was greatly affected at such behavior
in the child, and knew not what to say to her. One of the
neighbors coming in a little after, asked her what she had cried for.
She seemed, at first, backward to tell the reason. Her mother told her
she might tell that person, for he had given her an apple; upon which
she said she cried because she was afraid they would go to hell....</p>
<p>From this time there has appeared a very remarkable abiding
change in the child: she has been very strict upon the Sabbath, and
seems to long for the Sabbath day before it comes, and will often
in the week time be inquiring how long it is to the Sabbath day, and
must have the days particularly counted over that are between, before
she will be contented. And she seems to love God’s house—is
very eager to go thither. Her mother once asked her why she had
such a mind to go? Whether it was not to see the fine folks? She said
no, it was to hear Mr. Edwards preach. When she is in the place of
worship, she is very far from spending her time there as children
at her age usually do, but appears with an attention that is very
extraordinary for such a child. She also appears, very desirous at
all opportunities, to go to private religious meetings, and is very
still and attentive at home, in prayer time, and has appeared affected
in time of family prayer.</p>
<div class='chapter' /><h2 id="c15">Other Colonies</h2>
<h3 id="c16">John Woolman’s Journal</h3>
<p>Although one may think first of New England Puritanism in discussing
the religious life of the colonies, America was founded by many religious
groups. The Church of England was dominant in the southern colonies,
Maryland was founded by Catholics, and New York was settled by Netherlanders
who belonged to the Dutch Reformed Church. Still another important
religious influence was the Quaker faith, represented most significantly
by William Penn, who established the Pennsylvania colony. There also
were many Quakers in New Jersey, one of whom, John Woolman, is the
writer of the following selection.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_34">34</div>
<p>Woolman was a simple, plain tailor and shopkeeper who spent much
of his adult life traveling about the colonies visiting Quaker churches. His
Journal gives a clear account of the faith and life of a Quaker. The portion
printed below (from the original edition published in Philadelphia in 1774)
details Woolman’s boyhood and early religious experience.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I was born in Northampton, in Burlington County, West-Jersey,
in the year 1720; and before I was seven years old I began to
be acquainted with the operations of divine love. Through the care
of my parents, I was taught to read nearly as soon as I was capable
of it; and, as I went from school one Seventh Day [<i>the Quaker’s
term for Saturday; Sunday is the First Day</i>], I remember, while my
companions went to play by the way, I went forward out of sight,
and, sitting down, I read the 22d Chapter of the Revelations: “He
showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding
out of the throne of God and of the Lamb,” etc., and, in reading it,
my mind was drawn to seek after that pure habitation, which, I then
believed, God had prepared for His servants. The place where I sat,
and the sweetness that attended my mind, remain fresh in my
memory.</p>
<p>This, and the like gracious visitations, had that effect upon me,
that when boys used ill language it troubled me; and, through the
continued mercies of God, I was preserved from it.</p>
<p>The pious instructions of my parents were often fresh in my
mind when I happened to be among wicked children, and were of
use to me. My parents, having a large family of children, used frequently,
on First Days after meeting, to put us to read in the holy
scriptures, or some religious books, one after another, the rest sitting
by without much conversation; which, I have since often thought,
was a good practice. From what I had read and heard, I believed
there had been, in past ages, people who walked in uprightness before
God, in a degree exceeding any that I knew, or heard of, now
living: and the apprehension of there being less steadiness and firmness,
amongst people in this age than in past ages, often troubled
me while I was a child....</p>
<p>A thing remarkable in my childhood was, that once, going to a
<span class="pb" id="Page_35">35</span>
neighbour’s house, I saw, on the way, a robin sitting on her nest, and
as I came near she went off, but having young ones flew about, and
with many cries expressed her concern for them; I stood and threw
stones at her, till, one striking her, she fell down dead: at first I was
pleased with the exploit, but after a few minutes was seized with
horror, as having, in a sportive way, killed an innocent creature
while she was careful for her young. I beheld her lying dead, and
thought these young ones, for which she was so careful, must now
perish for want of their dam to nourish them; and after some painful
considerations on the subject, I climbed up the tree, took all the
young birds, and killed them; supposing that better than to leave
them to pine away and die miserably: and believed, in this case, that
scripture-proverb was fulfilled, “The tender mercies of the wicked
are cruel.” I then went on my errand, but, for some hours, could
think of little else but the cruelties I had committed, and was much
troubled. Thus, He, Whose tender mercies are over all His works,
hath placed a principle in the human mind, which incites to exercise
goodness towards every living creature; and this being singly attended
to, people become tender hearted and sympathizing; but
being frequently and totally rejected, the mind becomes shut up in
a contrary disposition.</p>
<p>About the twelfth year of my age, my father being abroad, my
mother reproved me for some misconduct, to which I made an undutiful
reply; and, the next First Day, as I was with my father returning
from meeting, he told me he understood I had behaved amiss
to my mother, and advised me to be more careful in [<i>the</i>] future.
I knew myself blameable, and in shame and confusion remained
silent. Being thus awakened to a sense of my wickedness, I felt remorse
in my mind, and, getting home, I retired and prayed to the
Lord to forgive me; and do not remember that I ever, after that,
spoke unhandsomely to either of my parents, however foolish in
some other things.</p>
<p>Having attained the age of sixteen years, I began to love wanton
company; and though I was preserved from profane language, or
scandalous conduct, still I perceived a plant in me which produced
much wild grapes; yet my merciful Father forsook me not utterly,
but, at times, through His grace, I was brought seriously to consider
my ways; and the sight of my backslidings affected me with sorrow;
<span class="pb" id="Page_36">36</span>
but, for want of rightly attending to the reproofs of instruction,
vanity was added to vanity, and repentance to repentance: upon the
whole, my mind was more and more alienated from the truth, and I
hastened toward destruction. While I meditate on the gulf towards
which I travelled, and reflect on my youthful disobedience, for these
things I weep, mine eyes run down with water.</p>
<p>Advancing in age, the number of my acquaintances increased,
and thereby my way grew more difficult; though I had found comfort
in reading the holy scriptures, and thinking on heavenly things,
I was now estranged therefrom: I knew I was going from the flock
of Christ, and had no resolution to return; hence serious reflections
were uneasy to me, and youthful vanities and diversions my greatest
pleasure. Running in this road I found many like myself; and we
associated in that which is the reverse of true friendship.</p>
<p>But in this swift race it pleased God to visit me with sickness,
so that I doubted of recovering; and then did darkness, horror, and
amazement, with full force, seize me, even when my pain and distress
of body was very great. I thought it would have been better for
me never to have had a being, than to see the day which I now saw.
I was filled with confusion; and in great affliction, both of mind and
body, I lay and bewailed myself. I had not confidence to lift up my
cries to God, Whom I had thus offended; but, in a deep sense of my
great folly, I was humbled before Him; and, at length, that Word
which is as a fire and a hammer, broke and dissolved my rebellious
heart, and then my cries were put up in contrition; and in the multitude
of His mercies I found inward relief, and felt a close engagement,
that, if He was pleased to restore my health, I might walk
humbly before Him.</p>
</blockquote>
<div class="pb" id="Page_37">37</div>
<div class='chapter' /><h2>Colonial Problems</h2>
<div class="img" id="fig3">
<img src="images/i4.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="606" />
<p class="caption">Woman captured by Indians</p>
</div>
<div class='chapter' /><h2 id="c17">Indian Troubles</h2>
<p>As we have seen, the task of planting colonies in the New World took
stout hearts and strong arms. The major problem was the unspectacular
one of scratching a living from the soil. There were, in addition, more
dramatic problems, such as Indian skirmishes and even full-scale war. More
and more land was being taken up by the English settlers. In New England,
an Indian leader known as King Philip organized a big Indian drive to rid
the country of English settlers. This drive was known as King Philip’s War
and was waged in the years 1675-76. In this conflict, the Indians of Massachusetts,
Rhode Island, and Connecticut spread terror throughout New
England and burnt many houses, but in the end were nearly wiped out
themselves. During the next century, England and France fought for control
of the Mississippi Valley. In the latter part of this struggle, between 1754
and 1763, usually called the French and Indian War, the American colonies
found themselves the battleground for the rivalries of two great European
powers.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_38">38</div>
<h3 id="c18">Mrs. Rowlandson’s Captivity</h3>
<p>In the selection that follows, Mary Rowlandson, a New England housewife,
tells of her capture by the Indians and her captivity during King
Philip’s War. She was held by the Indians for twelve weeks until her friends
were able to ransom her. As vivid today as when it was written in 1682,
this narrative is called <i>A True History of the Captivity and Restoration of
Mrs. Mary Rowlandson</i>.</p>
<blockquote>
<h4>THE ATTACK</h4>
<p>On the tenth of February, 1675, came the Indians with great
numbers upon Lancaster [<i>Massachusetts</i>]. 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 [<i>the</i>]
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.</p>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_39">39</span>
flax and hemp, which they brought out of the barn, and there being
no defense about the house, only two flankers [<i>fortifications</i>] 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.</p>
<p>Now is the dreadful hour come that I have often heard of (in
time of war, as it was in 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 an 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 to acknowledge His hand, and to see that
our help is always in Him.</p>
<p>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 sister’s children
(named William) had then his leg broken, which the Indians perceiving
they knocked him on the 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
<span class="pb" id="Page_40">40</span>
sooner said but she was struck with a bullet and fell down dead
over the threshold.</p>
<p>Of the thirty-seven persons in the house, twelve were killed and only
one escaped. Mrs. Rowlandson and her baby were among the remaining
twenty-four taken captive.</p>
<h4>THE FIRST REMOVE</h4>
<p>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 Englishmen
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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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 ... when
the English have fallen into their hands....</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_41">41</div>
<h4>THE SECOND REMOVE</h4>
<p>But now (the next morning) I must turn my back upon the
town, and travel with them into the vast and desolate wilderness, I
know 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.</p>
<p>Then they set me upon a horse with my wounded child in my
lap; and there being no furniture [<i>saddle</i>] upon the horseback, as
we were going down a steep hill, we both fell over the horse’s head,
at which they, like inhuman creatures, laughed and rejoiced to see it,
though I thought we should there have ended our days, 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.</p>
<p>After this it quickly began to snow; and when the 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.</p>
<h4>THE THIRD REMOVE</h4>
<p>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
<span class="pb" id="Page_42">42</span>
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....</p>
<p>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 February 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.... In the morning,
when they understood that my child was dead they sent for me home
to my master’s wigwam.... 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.</p>
<p>Mrs. Rowlandson’s ordeal lasted twelve weeks, after which she was
ransomed and allowed to return home to her husband, who had survived
the attack. Her two other children, also captured with her, were rescued
and reunited with their parents.</p>
</blockquote>
<div class='chapter' /><h2 id="c19">Conflict with France</h2>
<h3 id="c20">George Washington’s Letter on Braddock’s Defeat</h3>
<p>On July 9, 1755, during the French and Indian War, Colonel George
Washington took part in the Battle of Monongahela, in which General
Braddock was killed and his army routed. Washington had advised Braddock
to push on rapidly towards the French-held Fort Duquesne and to
<span class="pb" id="Page_43">43</span>
leave behind his artillery and baggage wagons so that he could move
through the wilderness as fast as possible. Washington feared the consequences
of moving too slowly and wrote his brother a few days before the
battle that the army “instead of pushing on with vigor, without regarding a
little rough road” was “halting to level every mold hill and to erect bridges
over every brook; by which means we were four days getting twelve miles.”
Washington’s fear of disaster was only too well-founded. The following
letter is his account of the battle, written to his mother nine days later:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><span class="lr">Fort Cumberland, July 18, 1755</span></p>
<p>Honored Madam:</p>
<p>As I doubt not but you have heard of our defeat, and perhaps
have it represented in a worse light (if possible) than it deserves; I
have taken this earliest opportunity to give you some account of the
engagement, as it happened within seven miles of the French fort, on
Wednesday the ninth.</p>
<p>We marched on to that place without any considerable loss, having
only now and then a straggler picked up by the French scouting
Indians. When we came here, we were attacked by a body of French
and Indians whose number (I am certain) did not exceed 300 men;
ours consisted of about 1,300 well-armed troops, chiefly of the English
soldiers who were struck with such a panic that they behaved
with more cowardice than it is possible to conceive. The officers
behaved gallantly in order to encourage their men, for which they
suffered greatly, there being nearly 60 killed and wounded, a large
proportion out of the number we had! The Virginia troops showed
a good deal of bravery and were near all killed, for I believe out
of three companies that were there, there is scarce 30 men left alive.
Capt. Peyrouny and all his officers down to a corporal was killed.
Capt. Polson shared near as hard a fate, for only one of his was
left. In short the dastardly behavior of those they call regulars exposed
all others that were inclined to do their duty to almost certain
death, and at last, in despite of all the efforts of the officers to the
contrary, they broke and run as sheep pursued by dogs, and it was
impossible to rally them.</p>
<p>The general was wounded, of which he died three days after. Sir
<span class="pb" id="Page_44">44</span>
Peter Halket was killed in the field where died many other brave officers.
I luckily escaped without a wound, though I had four bullets
through my coat and two horses shot under me. Captains Orme and
Morris, two of the general’s aides de camp, were wounded early in
the engagement, which rendered the duty hard upon me, as I was
the only person then left to distribute the general’s orders, which I
was scarcely able to do, as I was not half recovered from a violent
illness that confined me to my bed and a wagon for above ten days.
I am still in a weak and feeble condition, which induces me to halt
here two or three days in hopes of recovering a little strength to enable
me to proceed homewards, from whence, I fear, I shall not be
able to stir till towards September, so that I shall not have the
pleasure of seeing you till then, unless it be in Fairfax. Please give
my love to Mr. Lewis [<i>his brother-in-law</i>] and my sister and compliments
to Mr. Jackson and all other friends that inquire after me.
I am, Honored Madam, your most dutiful son.</p>
</blockquote>
<h3 id="c21">Benjamin Franklin’s Comments</h3>
<p>Benjamin Franklin shared George Washington’s doubts about Braddock’s
ability to capture Fort Duquesne. As a public-spirited citizen, Franklin
had taken the initiative in collecting wagons from Pennsylvania farmers
to transport the army’s supplies. His comments on Braddock, written many
years later, come from his autobiography.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>This general was, I think, a brave man, and might probably
have made a figure as a good officer in some European war. But he
had too much self-confidence, too high an opinion of the validity of
regular troops, and too mean a one of both Americans and Indians.
George Croghan, our Indian interpreter, joined him on his march
with one hundred of those people, who might have been of great use
to his army as guides, scouts, etc., if he had treated them kindly; but
he slighted and neglected them, and they gradually left him.</p>
<p>In conversation with him one day, he was giving me some account
of his intended progress. “After taking Fort Duquesne,” says
he, “I am to proceed to Niagara; and having taken that to Frontenac,
if the season will allow time; and I suppose it will, for Duquesne can
hardly detain me above three or four days; and then I see nothing
that can obstruct my march to Niagara.” Having before revolved
<span class="pb" id="Page_45">45</span>
in my mind the long line his army must make in their march by a
very narrow road, to be cut for them through the woods and bushes,
and also what I had read of a former defeat of fifteen hundred French
who invaded the Iroquois country, I had conceived some doubts and
some fears for the event of the campaign. But I ventured only to say,
“To be sure, sir, if you arrive well before Duquesne, with these fine
troops, so well provided with artillery, that place, not yet completely
fortified, and as we hear with no very strong garrison, can probably
make but a short resistance. The only danger I apprehend of obstruction
to your march is from ambuscades of Indians, who, by
constant practice, are dexterous in laying and executing them; and
the slender line, near four miles long, which your army must make,
may expose it to be attacked by surprise in its flanks, and to be cut
like a thread into several pieces, which, from their distance, can not
come up in time to support each other.”</p>
<p>He smiled at my ignorance, and replied, “These savages may, indeed,
be a formidable enemy to your raw American militia, but upon
the king’s regular and disciplined troops, sir, it is impossible they
should make any impression.” I was conscious of an impropriety in
my disputing with a military man in matters of his profession, and
said no more.</p>
</blockquote>
<div class="pb" id="Page_46">46</div>
<div class='chapter' /><h2>Colonial Life</h2>
<div class="img" id="fig4">
<img src="images/i5.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="701" />
<p class="caption">Benjamin Franklin</p>
</div>
<div class='chapter' /><h2 id="c22">Transportation</h2>
<p>Life in the United States has changed beyond recognition from life in
America in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In thousands of ways
people live differently. They work, they play, they eat, and they even sleep
differently. Then, there was no station wagon in the garage to take the
family to the beach or mountains over weekends and no telephone at hand
to call a friend to ask how to do tomorrow’s algebra problem. Life was
slower-paced than it is today, and was not complicated by the machines
that have become masters as well as slaves of our society. The selections
that follow will give you an insight into the daily lives of several interesting
early Americans. It is just as important to understand how people lived
in colonial times as it is to know about wars and kings and presidents.</p>
<h3 id="c23">Sarah Kemble Knight <span class="ssn">1666-1727</span></h3>
<p>Madam Knight, as Sarah Kemble Knight is known, was a Boston schoolteacher
and businesswoman. In the autumn of 1704 she made a business
trip to New York by way of Rhode Island and Connecticut. On the journey
<span class="pb" id="Page_47">47</span>
she kept a journal which gives a vivid account of her experiences. You
will find that this Boston woman writes about Connecticut as though it
were a foreign country. She had a good sense of humor and a keen eye
for detail. You learn in this report that not all of your New England
ancestors were cultivated people like governors Winthrop and Bradford.</p>
<blockquote>
<h4>THE THIRD DAY</h4>
<p><span class="lr">Wednesday, October 4, 1704</span></p>
<p>About four in the morning, we set out for Kingston [<i>Rhode
Island</i>] (for so was the town called) with a French doctor in our
company. He and the 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 me. This road was poorly furnished with accommodations for
travelers, so that we were forced to ride 22 miles by the post’s account,
but nearer thirty by mine, before we could bait [<i>feed</i>] so
much as our horses, which I exceedingly complained of. But the post
encouraged me by saying we 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 helped out of affliction. However, like the
rest of [<i>the</i>] deluded souls that post to the infernal den, we made all
possible speed to this devil’s habitation, where, alighting in full assurance
of good accommodation, we were going in. But meeting his
two daughters, as I supposed twins, they so nearly resembled each
other, both in features and habit, and looked as old as the devil himself
and quite as ugly, we desired entertainment but could hardly
get a word out of ’em, till with our importunity [<i>urging</i>], telling
them our necessity, etc., they called the old sophister, who was as
sparing of his words as his daughters had been, and no, or none, was
the reply he made us to our demands. He differed only in this from
the old fellow in t’other country: he let us depart....</p>
<p>Thus leaving this habitation of cruelty, we went forward, and
arriving at an ordinary [<i>inn</i>] about two mile further, found tolerable
accommodation. But our hostess, being a pretty full-mouthed
old creature, entertained our fellow traveler, the French doctor, with
innumerable complaints of her bodily infirmities and whispered to
him so loud that all the house had as full a hearing as he, which
was very diverting to the company (of which there was a great
<span class="pb" id="Page_48">48</span>
many), as one might see by their sneering. But poor weary I slipped
out to enter my mind in my journal, and left my great landlady with
her talkative guests to themselves....</p>
<h4>THE SIXTH DAY</h4>
<p><span class="lr">Saturday, October 7</span></p>
<p>About two o’clock [<i>in the</i>] afternoon we arrived at New Haven
[<i>Connecticut</i>], where I was received with all possible 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 informed myself of the manners and customs of the
place, and at the same time employed myself in the affair I went
there upon.</p>
<p>They are governed by the same laws as we in Boston (or little
differing) throughout this whole colony of Connecticut, and much
the same way of church government and many of them good,
sociable people, and I hope religious too. But [<i>they are</i>] a little too
much independent in their principles, and, as I have been told, were
formerly in their zeal very rigid in their administrations towards
such as their laws made offenders, even to a harmless kiss or innocent
merriment among young people....</p>
<p>Their diversions in this part of the country are on lecture days
and [<i>militia</i>] training days mostly. On the former there is riding
from town to town.</p>
<p>And on training days the youth divert themselves by shooting at
the target, as they call it (but it very much resembles a pillory),
where he that hits nearest the white has some yards of red ribbon
presented him, which being tied to his hatband, the two ends streaming
down his back, he is led away in triumph, with great applause,
as the winners of the Olympic Games. They generally marry very
young, the males oftener, as I am told, under twenty than above.
They generally make public weddings and have a way something
singular (as they say) in some of them, namely, just before joining
hands the bridegroom quits the place, who is soon followed by the
bridesmen, and as it were, dragged back to duty—being the reverse
to the former practice among us, to steal his bride....</p>
<p>Being at a merchant’s house, in comes a tall country fellow, with
<span class="pb" id="Page_49">49</span>
his alfogeos [<i>cheeks</i>] full of tobacco, for they seldom lose their cud
but keep chewing and spitting as long as their eyes are open. He
advanced to the middle of the room, makes an awkward nod, and
spitting a large deal of aromatic tincture, he gave a scrape with his
shovel-like shoe, leaving a small shovel full of dirt on the floor, made
a full stop. Hugging his own pretty body with his hands under his
arms, [<i>he</i>] stood staring round him like a cat let out of a basket.
At last, like the creature Balaam rode on [<i>an ass</i>], he opened his
mouth and said: “Have you any ribbon for hatbands to sell, I pray?”
The questions and answers about the pay being past, the ribbon is
brought and opened. Bumpkin Simpers cries, “It’s confounded gay,
I vow,” and beckoning to the door, in comes Joan Tawdry, dropping
about 50 curtsies, and stands by him. He shows her the ribbon.
“Law you,” says she, “It’s right gent; do you take it; ’tis dreadful
pretty.” Then she inquires: “Have you any hood silk, I pray?” which
being brought and bought, “Have you any thread silk to sew it with,”
says she, which being accommodated with, they departed. They generally
stand, after they come in, a great while speechless and sometimes
don’t say a word till they are asked what they want, which I
impute to the awe they stand in of the merchants, who they are
constantly almost indebted to and must take what they bring without
liberty to choose for themselves; but they serve them as well, making
the merchants stay [<i>wait</i>] long enough for their pay.</p>
</blockquote>
<div class='chapter' /><h2 id="c24">Life in the South</h2>
<p>A century after Jamestown was founded, Virginia was a prosperous,
flourishing colony. The capital was moved a few miles away to Williamsburg,
which today has been rebuilt to look much as it did in colonial
times. Along the James River were large plantations, operated by gentleman
farmers. These men lived much as their land-owning cousins did
in the old country. Lower on the social scale, of course, were white indentured
servants, who had bound themselves to years of labor in return
for their passage to Virginia, and slaves.</p>
<h3 id="c25">William Byrd <span class="ssn">1674-1744</span></h3>
<p>The culture of the colony, however, was dominated by prosperous
planters like William Byrd, ancestor of the present Byrd family of Virginia.
<span class="pb" id="Page_50">50</span>
His estate occupied the present site of Richmond. He was educated
in England and active in the affairs of the colony.</p>
<p>In 1728, he was appointed to help survey the boundary between North
Carolina and Virginia. The boundary, which was disputed, ran through
virgin forests and over mountains. During the arduous weeks that the
commissioners were making their survey, Byrd kept notes. His account of
this experience is given in <i>The History of the Dividing Line</i>. You can see
that Virginia gentlemen did not think much of the poor farmers in North
Carolina.</p>
<blockquote>
<h4 id="c26">LIFE IN NORTH CAROLINA</h4>
<p>March 25, 1728: Surely there is no place in the world where the
inhabitants live with less labor than in North Carolina. It approaches
nearer to the description of Lubberland [<i>a mythical land of plenty
and idleness</i>] than any other, by the great felicity of the climate, the
easiness of raising provisions, and the slothfulness of the people.</p>
<p>Indian corn is of so great increase that a little pains will subsist
a very large family with bread, and then they may have meat without
any pains at all, by the help of the low grounds, and the great variety
of mast [<i>nuts</i>] that grows on the high land. The men, for their parts,
just like the Indians, impose all the work upon the poor women.
They make their wives rise out of their beds early in the morning,
at the same time that they lie and snare till the sun has run one-third
of his course and dispersed all the unwholesome damps. Then, after
stretching and yawning for half an hour, they light their pipes, and,
under the protection of a cloud of smoke, venture out into the open
air, though if it happens to be never so little cold, they quickly return
shivering into the chimney corner. When the weather is mild,
they stand leaning with both their arms upon the cornfield fence, and
gravely consider whether they had best go and take a small heat at
the hoe, but generally find reasons to put it off till another time. Thus
they loiter away their lives....</p>
<p>March 27: Within 3 or 4 miles of Edenton [<i>North Carolina</i>],
the soil appears to be a little more fertile, though it is much out with
slashes [<i>swamps</i>], which seem all to have a tendency towards the
Dismal.</p>
<p>This town is situate on the north side of Albemarle Sound,
<span class="pb" id="Page_51">51</span>
which is there about 5 miles over. A dirty slash runs all along the
back of it, which in the summer is a foul annoyance and furnishes
abundance of that Carolina plague, mosquitoes. There may be 40
or 50 houses, most of them small and built without expense. A citizen
here is counted extravagant, if he has ambition enough to aspire to
a brick chimney. Justice herself is but indifferently lodged, the court
house having much the air of a common tobacco house. I believe
this is the only metropolis in the Christian or Mohammedan world,
where there is neither church, chapel, mosque, synagogue, or any
other place of public worship of any sect or religion whatsoever.</p>
<p>What little devotion there may happen to be is much more private
than their vices. The people seem easy without a minister, as
long as they are exempted from paying him. Sometimes the society
for propagating the Gospel has had the charity to send over missionaries
to this country; but unfortunately the priest has been too
lewd [<i>worthless</i>] for the people, or, which oftener happens, they too
lewd for the priest. For these reasons these reverend gentlemen have
always left their flocks as arrant heathen as they found them. Thus
much, however, may be said for the inhabitants of Edenton, that not
a soul has the least taint of hypocrisy or superstition, acting very
frankly and aboveboard in all their excesses.</p>
<p>Provisions here are extremely cheap and extremely good, so that
people may live plentifully at a trifling expense. Nothing is dear but
law, physic, and strong drink, which are all bad in their kind, and the
last they get with so much difficulty, that they are never guilty of the
sin of suffering it to sour upon their hands. Their vanity generally
lies not so much in having a handsome dining room as a handsome
house of office [<i>kitchen</i>]. In this kind of structure they are really
extravagant.</p>
<p>They are rarely guilty of flattering or making any court to their
governors, but treat them with all the excesses of freedom and familiarity.
They are of opinion their rulers would be apt to grow
insolent, if they grew rich, and for that reason take care to keep
them poorer, and more dependent, if possible, than the saints in
New England used to do their governors.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>A Virginia planter had many responsibilities and many interests. Besides
growing tobacco and raising livestock, Byrd and his associates made their
<span class="pb" id="Page_52">52</span>
plantations as self-sufficient as possible. Late in his life Byrd visited some
mining property he owned in western Virginia, and on the trip stopped off
to see Colonel Spotswood, a former governor of Virginia. The following
account, from <i>A Progress to the Mines</i>, gives us a glimpse of another
Virginian’s house. Note, too, how Byrd concerns himself with collecting
medicinal herbs.</p>
<blockquote>
<h4 id="c27">A VISIT TO COLONEL SPOTSWOOD</h4>
<p><span class="sc">September 27, 1732</span>: I came into the main county road that
leads from Fredericksburg to Germanna, which last place I reached
in ten miles more. This famous town consists of Col. Spotswood’s
enchanted castle on one side of the street and a baker’s dozen of
ruinous tenements on the other.... Here I arrived about three
o’clock and found only Mrs. Spotswood at home, who received her
old acquaintance with many a gracious smile. I was carried into a
room elegantly set off with pier glasses [<i>full-length mirrors set between
windows</i>] the largest of which came soon after to an odd
misfortune.</p>
<p>Amongst other favorite animals that cheered this lady’s solitude,
a brace of tame deer ran familiarly about the house, and one of
them came to stare at me as a stranger. But unluckily spying his own
figure in the glass, he made a spring over the tea table that stood
under it, and shattered the glass to pieces, and falling back upon the
tea table, made a terrible fracas among the china. This exploit was
so sudden and accompanied with such a noise that it surprised me,
and perfectly frightened Mrs. Spotswood. But ’twas worth all the
damage to show the moderation and good humor with which she
bore this disaster.</p>
<p>In the evening the noble colonel came home from his mines,
who saluted me very civilly, and Mrs. Spotswood’s sister, Miss
Theky, who had been to meet him <i>en cavalier</i> [<i>on horseback</i>] was
so kind too as to bid me welcome. We talked over a legend [<i>collection</i>]
of old stories, supped about 9, and then prattled with the ladies
till ’twas time for a traveler to retire. In the meantime I observed my
old friend to be very uxorious [<i>submissive to his wife</i>] and exceedingly
fond of his children. This was so opposite to the maxims he
used to preach up before he was married, that I could not forbear
<span class="pb" id="Page_53">53</span>
rubbing up the memory of them. But he gave a very goodnatured
turn to his change of sentiments by alleging that whoever brings a
poor gentlewoman into so solitary a place, from all her friends and
acquaintance, would be ungrateful not to use her and all that belongs
to her with all possible tenderness.</p>
<p>September 28: We all kept snug in our several apartments till
nine, except Miss Theky, who was the housewife of the family. At
that hour we met over a pot of coffee, which was not quite strong
enough to give us the palsy. After breakfast the Colonel and I left
the ladies to their domestic affairs and took a turn in the garden,
which has nothing beautiful but 3 terrace walks that fall in slopes
one below another. I let him understand that besides the pleasure of
paying him a visit, I came to be instructed by so great a master in
the mystery of making of iron, wherein he had led the way....</p>
<p>September 30: The sun rose clear this morning, and so did I
and finished all my little affairs by breakfast. It was then resolved to
wait on the ladies on horseback, since the bright sun, the fine air,
and the wholesome exercise all invited us to it. We forded the river
a little above the ferry and rode 6 miles up the neck to a fine level
piece of rich land where we found about 20 plants of ginseng, with
the scarlet berries growing on the top of the middle stalk. The root
of this is of wonderful virtue in many cases, particularly to raise the
spirits and promote perspiration, which makes it a specific in colds
and coughs. The colonel complimented me with all we found in
return for my telling him the virtues of it. We were all pleased to
find so much of this king of plants so near the colonel’s habitation
and growing too upon his own land.... I carried home this treasure
with as much joy as if every root had been a graft of the Tree of Life,
and washed and dried it carefully.</p>
</blockquote>
<div class='chapter' /><h2 id="c28"><b>Life in a City</b></h2>
<p>Benjamin Franklin’s life is too well-known to need summarizing here. The
story of his life should be on the reading list of every American, and the
best account of it is the one he wrote himself. Unfortunately, he never
finished his autobiography, so we do not have in his own words the story
of his diplomatic mission to France during the Revolution, or his activities
in America at the time of the Declaration of Independence and later during
the Constitutional Convention. His early career, however, is well described.
<span class="pb" id="Page_54">54</span>
The following selection from the Autobiography tells of Franklin’s
arrival in Philadelphia at the age of 17 after running away from home in
Boston.</p>
<h3 id="c29">From Benjamin Franklin’s <i>Autobiography</i></h3>
<blockquote>
<p>I was in my working dress, my best clothes being to come round
by sea. I was dirty from my journey; my pockets were stuffed out
with shirts and stockings; I knew no soul nor where to look for lodging.
I was fatigued with traveling, rowing, and want of rest; I was
very hungry; and my whole stock of cash consisted of a Dutch
dollar and about a shilling in copper. The latter I gave the people
of the boat for my passage, who at first refused it, on account of my
rowing; but I insisted on their taking it, a man being sometimes more
generous when he has but a little money than when he has plenty,
perhaps through fear of being thought to have but little.</p>
<p>Then I walked up the street, gazing about, till near the market-house
I met a boy with bread. I had made many a meal on bread,
and, inquiring where he got it, I went immediately to the baker’s
he directed me to, in Second Street, and asked for biscuit, intending
such as we had in Boston; but they, it seems, were not made in Philadelphia.
Then I asked for a three-penny loaf, and was told they had
none such. So, not considering or knowing the difference of money,
and the greater cheapness nor the names of his bread, I bade him
give me three-penny-worth of any sort. He gave me, accordingly,
three great puffy rolls. I was surprised at the quantity, but took it,
and, having no room in my pockets, walked off with a roll under
each arm, and eating the other. Thus I went up Market Street as
far as Fourth Street, passing by the door of Mr. Read, my future
wife’s father; when she, standing at the door, saw me, and thought
I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance.
Then I turned and went down Chestnut Street and part of Walnut
Street, eating my roll all the way, and, coming round, found myself
again at Market Street wharf, near the boat I came in, to which I
went for a draught of the river water; and, being filled with one of my
rolls, gave the other two to a woman and her child that came down
the river in the boat with us, and were waiting to go farther.</p>
<p>Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which by this time
had many clean-dressed people in it, who were all walking the same
<span class="pb" id="Page_55">55</span>
way. I joined them, and thereby was led into the great meeting-house
of the Quakers near the market. I sat down among them, and,
after looking round awhile and hearing nothing said, being very
drowsy through labor and want of rest the preceding night, I fell fast
asleep, and continued so till the meeting broke up, when one was
kind enough to rouse me. This was, therefore, the first house I was
in, or slept in, in Philadelphia.</p>
<p>Walking down again toward the river and looking in the faces
of people, I met a young Quaker man, whose countenance I liked
and accosting him, requested he would tell me where a stranger could
get lodging. We were then near the sign of the Three Mariners.
“Here,” says he, “is one place that entertains strangers, but it is not
a reputable house; if thee wilt walk with me, I’ll show thee a better.”
He brought me to the Crooked Billet in Water Street. Here I got a
dinner; and while I was eating it several sly questions were asked
me, as it seemed to be suspected from my youth and appearance
that I might be some runaway.</p>
<p>After dinner my sleepiness returned, and, being shown to a bed,
I lay down without undressing, and slept till six in the evening, was
called to supper, went to bed again very early, and slept soundly
till next morning. Then I made myself as tidy as I could and went to
Andrew Bradford the printer’s. I found in the shop the old man his
father, whom I had seen at New York, and who, traveling on horseback,
had got to Philadelphia before me. He introduced me to his
son, who received me civilly, gave me a breakfast, but told me he did
not at present want a hand, being lately supplied with one; but there
was another printer in town, lately set up, one Keimer, who perhaps
might employ me; if not, I should be welcome to lodge at his house,
and he would give me a little work to do now and then till fuller
business should offer.</p>
<p>The old gentleman said he would go with me to the new printer;
and when we found him, “Neighbor,” says Bradford, “I have
brought to see you a young man of your business; perhaps you may
want such a one.” He asked me a few questions, put a composing
stick in my hand to see how I worked, and then said he would employ
me soon, though he had just then nothing for me to do; and,
taking old Bradford, whom he had never seen before, to be of
the town’s people that had a good will for him, entered into a conversation
<span class="pb" id="Page_56">56</span>
on his present undertaking and prospects; while Bradford,
not discovering that he was the other printer’s father, on Keimer’s
saying he expected soon to get the greatest part of the business into
his own hands, drew him on by artful questions, and starting little
doubts, to explain all his views, what interest he relied on, and in
what manner he intended to proceed. I, who stood by and heard all,
saw immediately that one of them was a crafty old sophister, and the
other a mere novice. Bradford left me with Keimer, who was greatly
surprised when I told him who the old man was.</p>
<p>Keimer’s printing-house, I found, consisted of an old shattered
press, and one small, worn-out font of English [<i>type</i>], which he was
then using himself, composing an elegy on Aquila Rose, before mentioned,
an ingenious young man, of excellent character, much respected
in the town, clerk of the Assembly, and a pretty poet. Keimer
made verses too, but very indifferently. He could not be said to
write them, for his manner was to compose them in the types directly
out of his head. So there being no copy, but one pair of cases, and
the elegy likely to require all the letters, no one could help him. I
endeavored to put his press (which he had not yet used, and of
which he understood nothing) into order fit to be worked with; and,
promising to come and print off his elegy as soon as he should have
got it ready, I returned to Bradford’s, who gave me a little job to
do for the present, and there I lodged and dieted. A few days after,
Keimer sent for me to print off the elegy. And now he had got another
pair of cases, and a pamphlet to reprint, on which he set me
to work.</p>
<p>These two printers I found poorly qualified for their business.
Bradford had not been bred to it, and was very illiterate; and Keimer,
though something of a scholar, was a mere compositor, knowing
nothing of presswork. He had been one of the French prophets [<i>a
group of French Protestants known as Camisards, persecuted under
Louis XIV</i>], and could act their enthusiastic agitations. At this time
he did not profess any particular religion, but something of all on
occasion; was very ignorant of the world, and had, as I afterward
found, a good deal of the knave in his composition. He did not
like my lodging at Bradford’s while I worked with him. He had a
house, indeed, but without furniture, so he could not lodge me; but
he got me a lodging at Mr. Read’s, before mentioned, who was the
<span class="pb" id="Page_57">57</span>
owner of his house; and, my chest and clothes being come by this
time, I made rather a more respectable appearance in the eyes of
Miss Read than I had done when she first happened to see me eating
my roll in the street.</p>
<p>I began now to have some acquaintance among the young people
of the town that were lovers of reading, with whom I spent my evenings
very pleasantly; and gaining money by my industry and frugality,
I lived very agreeably, forgetting Boston as much as I could,
and not desiring that any there should know where I resided.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Franklin was an industrious, ambitious young man who had thoroughly
mastered the trade of printer before leaving Boston. In Philadelphia, he
set up his own printing business and prospered so much that he was able
to retire at the age of 42. The rest of his life he devoted to public enterprises
and to scientific investigation. He was instrumental in founding a
hospital, the academy that became the University of Pennsylvania, and
the American Philosophical Society. He initiated projects for providing
police protection, street lighting, cleaning, and paving in Philadelphia.
He served as postmaster-general for the colonies, and later represented
them in England as events moved toward the Revolution. One of his many
public-spirited projects was the establishment of a lending library, and in
the selection that follows he tells just how he got the library started.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>At the time I established myself in Pennsylvania, there was not
a good bookseller’s shop in any of the colonies to the southward of
Boston. In New York and Philadelphia the printers were indeed
stationers; they sold only paper, etc., almanacs, ballads, and a few
common school-books. Those who loved reading were obliged to
send for their books from England; the members of the Junto
[<i>Franklin’s club</i>] had each a few. We had left the alehouse, where
we first met, and hired a room to hold our club in. I proposed that
we should all of us bring our books to that room, where they would
not only be ready to consult in our conferences, but become a common
benefit, each of us being at liberty to borrow such as he wished
to read at home. This was accordingly done, and for some time
contented us.</p>
<p>Finding the advantage of this little collection, I proposed to
<span class="pb" id="Page_58">58</span>
render the benefit from books more common, by commencing a public
subscription library. I drew a sketch of the plan and rules that
would be necessary, and got a skilful conveyancer, Mr. Charles
Brockden, to put the whole in form of articles of agreement to be
subscribed, by which each subscriber engaged to pay a certain sum
down for the first purchase of books, and an annual contribution
for increasing them. So few were the readers at that time in Philadelphia,
and the majority of us so poor, that I was not able, with
great industry, to find more than fifty persons, mostly young tradesmen,
willing to pay down for this purpose forty shillings each, and
ten shillings per annum. [<i>A shilling in Franklin’s day was worth perhaps
$1.50 in today’s money.</i>] On this little fund we began. The
books were imported; the library was opened one day in the week
for lending to the subscribers, on their promissory notes to pay double
the value if not duly returned. The institution soon manifested its
utility, was imitated by other towns, and in other provinces. The
libraries were augmented by donations; reading became fashionable;
and our people, having no public amusements to divert their attention
from study, became better acquainted with books, and in a few
years were observed by strangers to be better instructed and more
intelligent than people of the same rank generally are in other
countries....</p>
<p>This library afforded me the means of improvement by constant
study, for which I set apart an hour or two each day, and thus repaired
in some degree the loss of the learned education my father
once intended for me. Reading was the only amusement I allowed
myself. I spent no time in taverns, games, or frolics of any kind; and
my industry in my business continued as indefatigable as it was
necessary.</p>
</blockquote>
<div class="pb" id="Page_i">i</div>
<div class="img" id="fig5">
<img src="images/i8.jpg" alt="" width="600" height="443" />
<p class="caption">A Woman Captured by Indians</p>
</div>
<div class='chapter' /><h2>Transcriber’s Notes</h2>
<ul>
<li>Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook is public-domain in the country of publication.</li>
<li>Silently corrected a few palpable typos, leaving period spellings unchanged.</li>
<li>In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by _underscores_.</li>
<li>Added subheadings in the text to match entries in the Table of Contents.</li>
<li>Added captions to illustrations based on the attributions in front matter.</li>
</ul>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 66701 ***</div>
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