Jan. 1776: At "Little Village" / Peace still possible?

Letter 28th   To my Mother*   Little Village   January — 1776

My Dearest Mother

 

It was, you will not doubt, a very considerable disappointment to me, to find, upon my arrival here, both yourself, and my sister — absent — I am, however, pleased you could command health sufficient for the little excursion, which I hope will be attended with much pleasure.  

 

My Father advises us, by all means, to take the house belonging to Mr G–  — we have been to look at it, and if Mr W– will relinquish a promise, which he hath obtained of one of the apartments, we shall place our furniture there as we are under an absolute necessity of removing it — Mr G– engages to render his house tenantable and we rather conclude to deposit our goods there, indifferent as the place appears, as we indulge a hope that we shall not be under the necessity of yielding our present residence —

 

An opinion has now become generally prevalent, that it is far from the design of the british to spread unnecessary devastation, that still regarding American Property as their own, they can have no inducement to lay our Sea Ports in Ashes — 

By tarrying in Town, I can be of more consequence to my Father, his business will often carry him thither and he has it in contemplation to shut up the mansion, from which you have flown, and to reside with us during those intervals which he is necessitated to be absent from this Village —

 

Alas!  my Dear Mother what days of sorrow have arisen upon us — Gloomy is the morning of my Life, and I am ready to wish the warrant for my release, had already past the great seal of heaven —

*Judith Saunders Sargent, Judith's mother

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Notes:

"Little Village" is JSM's name for Chebacco Parish, Ipswich, later, Essex. 

“Father” is Winthrop Sargent (1727–93). His “business” was serving on Gloucester’s Committee of Safety and later, by 1776, as the Massachusetts government's agent in Gloucester during the war.

 “Our Sea Port” refers to Gloucester.

Jan. 1776: Moving to Chebacco Parish for safety

Letter 25   To my sister*   Gloucester   January — 1776

 Dearest of Girls

 I should esteem it a signal favour, if, in these days of calamity, we could, when we are obliged to leave our present residence, obtain a situation near you — such a vicinity would, I should imagine, shed a gleam of sunshine, upon our days, however we might be circumstanced — 

It appears to me, we have, at this moment, an opportunity of accommodating ourselves — We have fixed upon a dreary spot, and shall be obliged to submit to many inconveniences — But I am content, for it is in the neighbourhood of my Mother — It is not my dear the place, but the society to which we must look to soften the gloom of the coming winter — 

If then you would take the Doctor’s house, who informed Mr Stevens, it would be finished in a week, it would make me very happy — The time employed in fitting up the apartment you might pass, with me, Your presence would adorn my solitary hours, come my amiable sister — Let your sweet Boy come with you, and give pleasure to a heart which I do assure you, stands much in need of such an effort of affection

*Esther Sargent Ellery, Judith's younger sister by four years

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Notes: 

"days of calamity" = British ships threatening the port of Gloucester ("The Battle of Gloucester" had taken place mere months earlier)

"dreary place" = Chebacco Parish of Ipswich (later, renamed Essex)

"Mr Stevens" = John Stevens, Judith's first husband

"your sweet boy" = John Stevens Ellery, Esther's son

1776: JSM's advice to a young female cousin on chastity and self-respect

 

Letter 52   To Miss Palfrey   Gloucester   November 24th 1776

 
Thank you my good Girl for your care in sending me the card, and for your wishes, expressed with so much duteous ardour, and so marked by affection — Gratitude is a virtue of rare, and precious growth, and it is with a high degree of satisfaction, I find it adorning the mind of my amiable Girl —
 
I have not ceased to regret the circumstances which laid me under the necessity of parting with you, and I do most devoutly wish it was still in my power to yield you the most ample protection — I supplicate for you, the rich blessing of an innocent life, for, as a member of society, you may be innocent [—]  May you rank high in the esteem of those worthy individuals, to whom you are known, and with whom you stand connected — May Virtue be the guide of your every action — and if you are conscious of rectitude, do not over much lament the censure of those who are often misjudging —
 
Let the opinion of the World obtain only a second place in your estimation —  Yet, a second place I abjure you always to allow it — Those, who, regardless of appearances … them selves … to slight … Chastity is one of the most essential ornaments of female life — and it appears to me, that Chastity is, in an important sense violated, when those decorums which may be regarded as requisite barriers, are sacrificed — Yes, all beauteous, all potent virtue, and every rule which she hath benignly instituted, should ever obtain the most scrupulous observance, and filial reverence —
 
I have then, my dear Girl, to wish that you would make it your first care, to approve yourself to the eye of Omniscience, when the plaudit of your own Conscience will become a natural consequence — and next, that you would endeavour to entitle your self to the respect of your fellow Creatures — and should you, in an attempt so praise worthy, be ultimately unsuccessful, should censorious envy refuse its plaudit — should slander blast your fairest hopes, be not too much depressed, but let the acquittal of your own bosom, out weigh every other consideration —
 
Fame, we know, is a Time Server, ready to answer the purpose of every base employer; she lifts on high her trumpet, and the fairest reputation is wounded by her malignant shafts —
 
Mean time, let the World condemn, or acquit, assure your self, my dear Girl, that in me you shall ever find a sympathizing friend.
 
* Judith Sargent Stevens to a young Robinson/Palfray cousin.

Fall 1776: Soldier brother Winthrop to visit; also: mail, war, and affection for British people

Beginning of Letter 50 in Letter Book 1; the blotches are mildew!

Letter 50   To my brother   Gloucester   October 1st 1776

 
I experienced, my dear, some anxiety for the fate of the letters to which you refer, not that I acknowledge a sufficient quantum of vanity, to induce a supposition that they could be of any material consequence but, my silence to your uniform attentions would have justified a suspicion, that I was insensible to your fraternal tenderness, which insensibility, would questionless have constituted a very sufficient proof, that I was indeed capable of ingratitude, and, of course, altogether unworthy your future favours — If the said letters had missed their way, I should, for a season at least, have figured most unworthily, and the idea even of momentary degradation is sufficiently mortifying —
 
But, however my regrets are diminished by the knowledge that my several packages have come safe to hand, yet I am truly unhappy to learn, that I am probably deprived of many inestimable treasures designed for me by my brother — by what means the letters you mention to have written, have escaped me,  I know not, but one thing is certain, I am essentially the sufferer —
 
Were our letters exchanged by post, perhaps we might not often be called to regret these kind of losses — I would most cheerfully comply with your request, I would frequently employ my pen to you, did any thing occur, which I could believe worthy your attention — Till I can fill my page with a greater variety of incidents, I presume my present method will be most eligible, as it will prevent your being crouded upon by a superfluity of insignificant events.  As often as you are so obliging to note the receipt of my communication, I shall not fail to continue them, recording every thing which may figure importantly in our beloved Circle.  
 
We are at present solaced by all the pleasures of expectation — We are bid to hope that you will pass the approaching winter in your native Village, and we are impatiently counting the days, till your return — We rejoice to see the pleasant weather passing off — the fading flowers give us pleasure, and we behold, with satisfaction, the verdant tinct giving place to the dun hue of Autumnal yellow — To my eye the advancing season assumes the most pleasing aspect, for it is the harbinger of that hour, when I shall again fold to my fond bosom, my affectionate, my beloved brother —
 
If it had been convenient for you to pass the summer in Gloucester, the scene would have been much more varied, than it is rational to suppose, the dreary months of winter can present — yet, during the summer, the retirement of friendship would have been invaded, the hours sacred to affection curtailed, and perhaps there is more true enjoyment to be found in the bosom of social life, than in all the pleasures in the gift of a promiscuous Circle —
 
The captors by which our merchants have been enriched, have introduced a constant succession of strangers.  Among the unhappy sufferers we have distinguished many worthy characters I call men of taste, genuine feelings, and true honour. Some have decidedly blended delicacy, greatness of soul, and uniform liberality of sentiment — and we have beheld the British Sailor, the British Gentleman, the British Hero, even as heretofore exemplified, admirably displayed among us —
 
They were strangers, they were unhappy, and they were consequently entitled to the attention, and indulgences which they received.  Some amiable females were in their train [—] their destination was for Quebeck, where parents, Lovers, and Husbands are impatiently expecting their arrival — But alas! alas! they are … experiencing the melancholy effects of this destructive war.

Viewing you, my brother, as brave and humane, I cannot but suppose that suffering merit, of whatever party, will excite your compassion — That you, my brother, may never experience the evils of captivity is the ardent prayr of your affectionate Sister —
 

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Notes: Judith Sargent Stevens to Winthrop Sargent, her brother.

 

2004 © Bonnie Hurd Smith

July 1776: Hosting British officers captured by privateer Yankee Hero

Yankee Hero

Letter 49   To Mr Murray   Gloucester   July 15 — 1776
 
Once more, dear Sir, I resume my domestic employments — My circumstantial journal may possibly reach you — but lest it should not, it may be well to give you a brief account of particulars — I had the small pox rather severely — Inoculation hath not enabled me, as an individual, to speak lightly of this malady — My kind friends left nothing, in their power, unessayed, which they conceived might mitigate my sufferings.

My Aunt is decidedly an amiable Woman, the character of my Uncle rises upon me, he is generous, hospitable, and unaffectedly sincere — May fortune still smile upon him, and may he never lack the means of relieving the indigent, and the stranger — 

I have had the small pox very full, the disfiguring marks of which still remain [—]  I do not wonder that persons possessing beauty, are shocked at the approach of this Despoiler — What devastation had it made where the lily and the rose enchantingly presided — and, after all the elaborate harangues of philosophy, there is, it cannot be denied, something delightfully pleasing in a fine face, and, I am free to own, that were beautiful features, and a graceful person mine, I should have regarded their loss, as a truly melancholy deprivation, nor can I allow it to be a reprehensible trait in the character of a beauty, which induces a becoming sense of her privilege — She receives her personal advantages, with every other gift from a most beneficent hand, and should not gratitude triumph in her bosom — 

But leaving beauty to the quiet possession of its fair Proprietors, let me proceed in my narration — 

after depositing my journal in the post office, directed to New London, early on Monday morning, I left Boston, accompanied by my lively Cousin, Miss Harriot** — The laughter loving Girl, was in full possession of her accustomed flow of spirits, and, if I were not cheerful, I could not impute to want of effort in my friend.  

We reached Salem about noon — at the door of the public house my ever honoured, and very dear Father, presented me his hand — Words cannot express how grateful the rapturous sensations by which I was then nearly overwhelmed.  Tears of joy streamed from my eyes while the revered Parent pressed me to his bosom.  With silent transport he seemed to bless my returning steps, and as he viewed my face, yet red with the disorder from which I had recently recovered, the big tear started in his manly eye, and he precipitately quitted the apartment — 

We were now under the most secure, and natural protection, and thus delightfully escorted, came on to Manchester where we had the happiness of meeting my husband, who informed us that he had a large company at his house — Mr and Mrs Ross, with Miss Ross, their daughter, a Mr Morgan with three small children, and two black servants:  These were all passengers on board the ship lately captured, and brought into Gloucester*** — 

Upon my entering our Mansion — the gentlemen and Ladies were severally introduced — My Aunt E. S. ever obliging, had condescended to visit our dwelling, for the purpose of hailing my return, she embraced me with a degree of ardour, becoming the friendship with which she has ever honoured me — My sister too, was here, and the dear Girl, throwing her arms about my neck, testified her satisfaction by expressive silence — Taking each of the strangers by the hand, I bade them most cordially welcome — 

Poor unfortunates, they embarked on board a ship at Jamaica, with an intention of fixing their future residence in England — They were met by Captain Johnson, wholly unprepared for an engagement, and became, of course, an easy prey — How unhappy that National disputes thus involve the unoffending — Surely it might be rendered mutually advantageous, to allow the sons of commerce to pass, at all times unmolested — to extend to all unarmed vessels, the protection, which the potent arm of authority, is so decidedly able to yield — The injuries of war would thus become less extensive, and, I should imagine, political questions might be altogether as warmly contested.  

The sufferers under my roof, seemed to bear their misfortunes with true greatness of mind — They expressed some anxiety at the inconvenience their abode here might create — but I endeavoured to soothe them by an assurance that we should take pleasure in any little attentions we could pay them — I entreated they would consider themselves at home, and dismiss, as far as possible, the idea of an Enemy’s Land, Captivity, &c &c  

But I had not yet seen my Mother, and upon the wings of affection I hastened to her maternal arms — The dear Lady had conceived such apprehension from the small pox, that she received me as one from the dead — With hands uplifted, and in broken accents her words interrupted by tears of rapture, she exclaimed — Oh! my Child, my beloved Child — Welcome, welcome to the bosom of your Mother.  May God in heaven be praised, that I once more behold you — she pressed me repeatedly to her heart, nor did sorrow appear in her fine face, untill the Laws of hospitality obliged me to return to the society I had quitted.   

Thus have I condensed particulars, in which your benevolence induces you to claim an interest, and, I have only to add, my best wishes for the success of your truly divine Mission —

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*Judith Sargent Stevens to John Murray

***Harriot Saunders (1757–?), the daughter of Judith's uncle Thomas Saunders⁵ and his wife Lucy Smith Saunders; Harriot's childhood home is now part of the Sawyer Free Library, on Middle Street.
 
***William Ross and Nathaniel Morgan were passengers on the ship Zachariah Bayley, captured on July 11, 1776 off the coast of Cape Ann by the sloop privateer Yankee Hero. One of the owners or bonders of the Yankee was Paul Dudley Sargent, Judith’s uncle. 

July 1, 1776: "I have passed through the Small Pox"

Letter 48    To my Sister*   Boston   July 1st 1776

You will, my dearest Girl, account for my silence, when you are informed that I have been extremely ill, and that, with a disorder which rendered it presumptuous to address any of my friends — After this you will not need to be told, that I have passed through the Small Pox — 

Yes, my dear, I have submitted to inoculation, and have, not withstanding, suffered severely — No less than one hundred pustules in my face, so that you will judge what a fright I am — But, no matter, I am now qualified to render any service in my power, to those friends who may in future suffer in this way.  

My Physician assures me that I should not run the least risk, in returning home this day, I have taken every precaution that the most scrupulous timidity could suggest — yet the fear of alarming my connexions, will keep me here another week, or ten days when I may surely return — 

Say, my Love, may I not safely meet you at that period? I believe I shall venture — I am impatient to see you once more — it seems a little age since I left Gloucester, and although I have been cruelly treated in that place, yet recollection is constantly reminding me that in Gloucester, my dearest connexions still inhale the vital air — 

Fancy often presents you in my sleeping moments, and I dream myself once more among you — yet this fleeting vision is too soon dissolved, and waking I exclaim — Beloved and most precious Circle, do you indeed exist, or are you only ideas floating, athwart the disk of imagination, which, however I may heretofore have realized, I shall not again be permitted to embody? — 

See my sweet Girl, how you have erred, I have not figured splendidly in the Beau monde, but I have been constantly confined by illness, although had your conjectures been correct, you have yet to learn the heart of your sister, if you suppose she would prefer any enjoyment, which the round of dissipation can bestow, to the pleasures which result from friendship.  

Often, and often, since I left home, hath my bosom sighed for the kind soothings of an amiable sister, for the dear presence of an affectionate Mother — Indeed Home hath ever been to me a world possessing most potent charms, and, I dare believe, its fascination ... to the whole of my existence. 

To Mr Stevens my plan, and its nature, was fully known — It was known and sanctioned — my letters to him are sufficiently explanatory — Remember me in the most affectionate terms to your husband and to my charming Boy** [—] 

Adieu — May Peace, uninterrupted Peace be with you

*Judith Sargent Stevens to Esther Sargent Ellery, her sister, four years younger; to date, no portrait of Esther has been found

** "my charming boy" is Esther's son, John Stevens Ellery

 

 

 

July 4, 1790 in Philadelphia

Letter 768  To my Father and Mother*  Philadelphia  Arch Street  July 10 1790 — Saturday

 ...On Monday every restraint being taken off, the ebullations of hilarity obtained their utmost latitude — 

The bells were clamorous, the colors displayed, and the Cannon discharged — The military of every description was concluded by a display of fire works from the State House, and a superb illumination of Schuylkill gardens — 

The Proprietor of that Elysium, had advertised a variety of additional exhibitions, such as an artificial Island, a [Tavern] house, garden etc  to be represented in the evening, upon the River, splendidly illuminated — a number of heathen Deities rendered luminous, and distinguished by their insignia — Bridge dressed in shrubbery, and appropriate Colours for every state in the Union — The Arms of America and France entwined by Liberty — a rich display of Fire works, exhibited from the Lawn, in front of the Federal temple — 

Thirteen Boys, and an equal number of Girls, issuing from the Grove, habited as shepherds, and shepherdesses, and proceeding to the Federal Temple, chanting responsively, an Ode to Liberty, with a number of songs, Odes, and Choruses, in honour of the auspicious event, which the day commemorated.  

An advertisement of this kind, originated the highest expectations — It produced in the gardens a vast concourse of people, upwards of six thousand persons, Candidates for the pleasure of the scene — In an assembly so multifarious, characters of every description, you will not doubt, were collected — Urged by curiosity, my husband, supposing it would be unpleasant crossing the floating Bridge, took me in his Carriage to the middle of the ferry — never did I behold a scene more truly enchanting than Nature then presented, upon the Banks of the Schuylkill — 

The river was divinely serene, and the margin was ornamented by romantic, and beautifully variegated imagery — But crossing the stream we approached the scene of riot — Never did my Fancy in its most tumultuous, and capricious combinations, sketch a view so replete with wild disorder, and confused uproar — With much difficulty we obtained tickets of admission, and when we reached the grounds, the unlicensed Mirth, the prevalent anarchy, boisterous manifestations of unbridled joy, and rude elbowing of the promiscuous throng, was really distressing — 

In vain, in the midst of those sweetly rural, and enchanting recesses, where we had recently enjoyed so much, we sought the honeysuckle arbour, or embowering shade — upon every seat, and in every embosomed haunt, noisy frolick, with rude unmannered stare had taken its stand, and it was well if the thronged croud allowed us to keep our feet — All ranks of people were grouped together — 

The Orchestra, that beautiful seat of harmony, was taken by the Mob, and from the correct mind, every idea of enjoyment was of necessity banished — so great was the croud that to obtain the smallest refreshment, was out of the question, and our only remaining wish, was to gain a passage out of the gardens — To effect this was, however, impossible [—] 

Thick and lawless ranks lined the gates — all our addresses, and perseverance, proved abortive and I was nearly sinking upon the spot, when a friend taking compassion upon our sufferings, led us through a flight of rooms, into a subteraneous passage through which, winding our way, we once more found ourselves safely conducted into a spacious street — when instantly mounting our Carriage, and crossing the floating bridge at the risk of our lives, from the pressing horses, chaises, Coaches, and throngs of people, we very cheerfully left behind us illuminations, fire works, heathen Gods, and Goddesses etc etc most sincerely felicitating ourselves, upon our happy escape — 

By the depredations of the Mob, we are told the Paradise recently so beautiful, is greatly injured but time I hope will restore it to accustomed Order and neatness...

*To Winthrop Sargent and Judith Saunders Sargent, her parents