Chapter II: Part 2

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! [_His son Henry was drowned
on the day the ship landed._] 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.

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.

Commend me heartily to all our kind friends ... and all the rest of my
neighbors and their wives, both rich and poor....

The good Lord be with thee and bless thee and all our children and
servants.

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.

Thy faithful husband,
Jo. Winthrop.

Religious Life in America

New England

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 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.

Edward Taylor 1645-1729

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.

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.

The Joy of Church Fellowship Rightly Attended

In heaven soaring up, I dropt an ear
On earth, and oh! sweet melody!
And listening, found it was the saints who were
Encoached for heaven that sang for joy.
For in Christ’s coach they sweetly sing,
As they to glory ride therein.

Oh! joyous hearts! Enfired with holy flame!
Is speech thus tasseled with praise?
Will not your inward fire of joy contain
That it in open flames doth blaze?
For in Christ’s coach saints sweetly sing,
As they to glory ride therein.

And if a string do slip, by chance, they soon
Do screw it up again: whereby
They set it in a more melodious tune
And a diviner harmony.
For in Christ’s coach they sweetly sing,
As they to glory ride therein.

In all their acts, public and private, nay,
And secret too, they praise impart.
But in their acts divine and worship, they
With hymns do offer up their heart.
Thus in Christ’s coach they sweetly sing,
As they to glory ride therein.

Some few not in, and some whose time and place
Block up this coach’s way, do go
As travelers afoot: and so do trace
The road that gives them right thereto;
While in this coach these sweetly sing,
As they to glory ride therein.

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.

Housewifery

Make me, O Lord, Thy spinning-wheel complete;
Thy holy Word my distaff make for me;
Make mine affections Thy swift flyers neat;
And make my soul Thy holy spool to be;
My conversation make to be Thy reel,
And reel the yarn thereon, spun of Thy wheel.

Make me Thy loom then; knit therein this twine;
And make Thy Holy Spirit, Lord, wind quills;
Then weave the web Thyself. The yarn is fine.
Thine ordinances make my fulling mills.
Then dye the same in heavenly colors choice,
All pinked with varnished flowers of paradise.

Then clothe therewith mine understanding, will,
Affections, judgment, conscience, memory,
My words and actions, that their shine may fill
My ways with glory and Thee glorify.
Then mine apparel shall display before Ye
That I am clothed in holy robes for glory.

The Salem Witch Trials

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.

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.

The first of the accused to be questioned was Sarah Good, who denied the charges with vigor. Then came Sarah Osburne, who was dragged 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.

HATHORNE: Sarah Good, what evil spirit have you familiarity with?

GOOD: None.

H: Have you made no contract with the devil?

G: No.

H: Why do you hurt these children?

G: I do not hurt them. I scorn it.

H: Who do you employ then to do it?

G: I employ nobody.

H: What creature do you employ then?

G: No creature; I am falsely accused.

H: Why did you go away muttering from Mr. Parris’ house?

G: I did not mutter, but I thanked him for what he gave my child.

H: Have you made no contract with the devil?

G: No.

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.

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?

G: I do not torment them.

H: Who do you employ then?

G: I employ nobody. I scorn it.

H: How came they thus tormented?

G: What do I know? You bring others here, and now you charge me with
it.

H: Why who was it?

G: I do not know, but it was someone you brought into the meeting
house with you.

H: We brought you into the meeting house.

G: But you brought in two more.

H: Who was it then that tormented the children?

G: It was Osburne.

H: What is it you say when you go muttering away from persons’ houses?

G: If I must tell, I will tell.

H: Do tell us then.

G: It is the commandments. I may say my commandments, I hope.

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.

HATHORNE: What evil spirit have you familiarity with?

OSBURNE: None.

H: Have you made no contract with the devil?

O: No, I never saw the devil in my life.

H: Why do you hurt these children?

O: I do not hurt them.

H: Who do you employ then to hurt them?

O: I employ nobody.

H: What familiarity have you with Sarah Good?

O: None. I have not seen her these two years.

H: Where did you see her then?

O: One day a-going to town.

H: What communications had you with her?

O: I had none, only, how do you do or so. I did not know her name.

H: What did you call her then?

[_At this point Sarah Osburne had to admit that she had called her
Sarah._]

H: Sarah Good saith that it was you that hurt the children.

O: I do not know if the devil goes about in my likeness to do any
hurt.

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.

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.

H: Hath the devil ever deceived you and been false to you?

O: I do not know the devil. I never did see him.

H: What lying spirit was it then?

O: It was a voice that I thought I heard.

H: What did it propound to you?

O: That I should go no more to meeting, but I said I would and did go
the next Sabbath day.

H: Were you never tempted further?

O: No.

H: Why did you yield thus far to the devil as never to go to meeting
since?

O: Alas! I have been sick and not able to go.

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.

HATHORNE: Did you never see the devil?

TITUBA: The devil came to me and bid me serve him....

H: What service?

T: Hurt the children, and last night there was an appearance
[_apparition_] that said to kill the children and if I would not go on
hurting the children they would do worse to me.

H: What is this appearance you see?

T: Sometimes he is like a hog and sometimes like a great dog.

H: What did it say to you?

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.

H: What did you say to it?

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....

H: Did you not pinch Elizabeth Hubbard this morning?

T: The man brought her to me and made me pinch her.

H: Why did you go to Thomas Putnam’s last night and hurt his child?

T: They pull and haul me and make me go....

H: How did you go?

T: We ride upon sticks and are there presently.

H: Why did you not tell your master?

T: I was afraid. They said they would cut off my head if I told....

H: Did not you hurt Mr. Corwin’s child?

T: Goody [_Mrs._] 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....

H: Do you see who it is that torments these children now?

T: Yes, it is Goody Good. She hurts them now in her own shape.

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.

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.

Samuel Sewall’s Confession of Error

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.

“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 [_the
trials_], 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.”

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.

The Great Awakening

Within a century after the Puritan migration to New England, life in the colonies was changing. New England Puritans were becoming Yankee 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.

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.

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. 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.

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....

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 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....

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.

Other Colonies

John Woolman’s Journal

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.

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.

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 [_the Quaker’s term for Saturday;
Sunday is the First Day_], 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.

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.

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....

A thing remarkable in my childhood was, that once, going to a
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.

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 [_the_] 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.

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; 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.

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.

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.

Colonial Problems

Indian Troubles

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.

Mrs. Rowlandson’s Captivity

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 _A True History of the Captivity and Restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson_.

THE ATTACK

On the tenth of February, 1675, came the Indians with great numbers
upon Lancaster [_Massachusetts_]. 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 [_the_] head, and stripped him naked, and split open
his bowels. Another seeing many of the Indians about his barn ventured
and went out, but was quickly shot down. There were three others
belonging to the same garrison who were killed; the Indians, getting
up upon the roof of the barn, had advantage to shoot down upon them
over their fortification. Thus these murderous wretches went on,
burning and destroying before them.

At length they came and beset our own house, and quickly it was the
dolefulest day that ever mine eyes saw. The house stood upon the edge
of a hill; some of the Indians got behind the hill, others into the
barn, and others behind anything that could shelter them; from all
which places they shot against the house, so that the bullets seemed
to fly like hail; and quickly they wounded one man among us, then
another, and then a third. About two hours (according to my
observation in that amazing time) they had been about the house before
they prevailed to fire it (which they did with flax and hemp, which
they brought out of the barn, and there being no defense about the
house, only two flankers [_fortifications_] at two opposite corners,
and one of them not finished). They fired it once and one ventured out
and quenched it, but they quickly fired it again, and that took.

Now is the dreadful hour come that I have often heard of (in time of
war, as it was 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.

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 sooner said but she was struck with a bullet and
fell down dead over the threshold.

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.

THE FIRST REMOVE

Now away we must go with those barbarous creatures, with our bodies
wounded and bleeding, and our hearts no less than our bodies. About a
mile we went that night up upon a hill, within sight of the town,
where they intended to lodge. There was hard by a vacant house
(deserted by the English before, for fear of the Indians); I asked
them whether I might not lodge in the house that night, to which they
answered, “What, will you love 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.

To add to the dolefulness of the former day and the dismalness of the
present night, my thoughts ran upon my losses and sad, bereaved
condition. All was gone, my husband gone (at least separated from me,
he being in the Bay; and to add to my grief, the Indians told me they
would kill him as he came homeward), my children gone, my relations
and friends gone, our house and home, and all our comforts within door
and without—all was gone (except my life), and I knew not but the next
moment that might go too.

There remained nothing to me but one poor, wounded babe, and it seemed
at present worse than death, that it was in such a pitiful condition,
bespeaking compassion, and I had no refreshing for it nor suitable
things to revive it. Little do many think what is the savageness and
brutishness of this barbarous enemy ... when the English have fallen
into their hands....

THE SECOND REMOVE

But now (the next morning) I must turn my back upon the town, and
travel with them into the vast and desolate wilderness, I 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.

Then they set me upon a horse with my wounded child in my lap; and
there being no furniture [_saddle_] 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.

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.

THE THIRD REMOVE

The morning being come, they prepared to go on their way. One of the
Indians got up upon a horse, and they set me up behind him, with my
poor sick babe in my lap. A very wearisome and tedious day I had of
it; what with my own wound and my child’s being so exceeding sick, and
in a lamentable condition with her wound. It may be easily judged what
a poor feeble condition we were in, there being not the least crumb of
refreshing that came within either of our mouths from Wednesday night
to Saturday night, except only a little cold water....

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.

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.

Conflict with France

George Washington’s Letter on Braddock’s Defeat

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 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:

Fort Cumberland, July 18, 1755

Honored Madam:

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.

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.

The general was wounded, of which he died three days after. Sir 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
[_his brother-in-law_] and my sister and compliments to Mr. Jackson
and all other friends that inquire after me. I am, Honored Madam, your
most dutiful son.

Benjamin Franklin’s Comments

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.

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.

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 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.”

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.

Colonial Life

Transportation

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.

Sarah Kemble Knight 1666-1727