Library of The Theological Seminary PRINCETON - NEW JERSEY das FROM THE LIBRARY OF ROBERT ELLIOTT SPEER <=): Johnson, A New England pioneer : "The captivity of Mrs. Johnson" face, (dashing Sfoees— 7. Maul Vi ule Heuet Sk Le af Vaan rE Ses ca RET CN Pt 0 Gi J h v 7 % ve at ‘A Ae rar he re aye % Ph ¥ 4a} 1 Ma ey , My si) Ma Gao 4 5A), iad Polh ak ‘ i at i A ‘ ads, nb “ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2022 with funding from Princeton Theological Seminary Library https://archive.org/details/newenglandpioneeOOjohn Wa a) a ae LJ Wie A New England Pioneer Dy " saat anh ih aly H ra Sf ba a wii Miu. Saite NUL thes RS itty, : anti ¥ ee RS FF git > { AY Wy, wile, x la, RZ > Mi, ll li yi Ii, ly, te, eas Se “ > Wi, SS f Provirnte of Massachusells Lay ps fia My tule. co mall fe ph ay. US ANNA p 4 W i i Offa vy InN Son A New England Pioneer “THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. JOHNSON” The Story of her Life with an Account of her Capture and Experiences during four years with the French and Indians, 1746-1750; in part as written by her and in part as condensed by MARY M. BILLINGS FRENCH Illustrated with Photographs by CLARA E. SIPPRELL us THE ELM TREE PRESS WOODSTOCK VERMONT * ADEA iy bik ee TM i uh mshi ) af ‘ ; ‘ 7 | 1 ‘ ' 7's ; 4 4 , , , ' at ts M, wate P AVES d ; i el uy ‘ j ' } ek Alay ead te Piatti 4 yt p ve riue ae ILLUSTRATIONS Map of the Region Facing title page Where the Child was Born 5 The Connecticut near Charlestown 9 The Black River 13 The Beaver Pond be! The Otter Creek Rapids 21 The East Bay of Lake Champlain bape Mrs. Johnson’s Resting Place 3S The Johnson Monuments as seen to-day 39 isi eis ' ray fy a ; nhs tt ; ih | oi a 1a Oy ee Gaetan : a an i) AG): MORENO Le Bec { J . PY \ t * bet ont 4 / ei pti ae TROY q h B tA te pe RAE aaa Wie ae) By Belay enh Big i ie ah an } aa ’ a aM hou ¥ . 4 . } ; ie AY) Pa} ‘ ' f i i i : 7 - ? ad or i i ; RAR LSA f ten a Ning } if vee tae ' ’ . ions : ) ee | * x A f t 4 ’ P i ‘ vue o ior j i ‘ . ' A ‘ 5 ¥ F val i ‘7 Pee | at il ’ +. ait f } IK! ia j % Shin. AY % y Pry a iy Me j {') oe ! us iano ibe? PNY ii Pie nd , ‘* is | T° f ‘4 viiae | ri. 5 j a ne a . i 4 J aA! oie « iy 2 ‘ roi u “ Soe aes Ard: Hay | URAL anal, 5 A is " at : 1 ’ f y Ws INTRODUCTION One of the rarest and most thrilling of early American pioneer records is “A NARRATIVE OF THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. JOHNSON, containing an account of her sufferings during four years with the Indians and French.” The first edition was published in 1796 at Walpole, New Hampshire. A second edition of 1807 was “corrected and enlarged.” In 1814 a third edition was published “together with an appendix, sermons preached at her funeral and that of her mother, with sundry other interesting articles.” So remarkable was the story that at least two other editions were printed in America in 1834 and 1841 and two in England in 1797 and 1802. In 1907 the book was reissued as a part of the Indian Captives Series. Mary M. Billings French, who is the great- great-great-granddaughter of Mrs. Johnson, the heroine of the story, has prepared the narrative which follows, in part presenting it as originally written by Mrs. Johnson. The Algonquins and the Iroquois were rival native confederations at the beginning of the eighteenth century. One of the sub-divisions of the Algonquins was called Abnakis, at other times called Waubaneekees or St. Francis Indians. They were friendly to the French with whom they had alliances. Vili A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER It was their chief, Grey Lock, after whom the high- est mountain in Massachusetts was named, who was the “scourge of the English settlements.” What is now Vermont was used by the Abnakis as their beav- ér hunting ground and fishing place, but mostly as their thoroughfare. They left some picture writing near Bellows Falls, a few relics, some trails, many names, scattered graves, and pitiful stories of grew- some massacres. Mr. Rowland Robinson, Vermont’s best historian and prose writer, says that all the Indian names of Vermont lakes and rivers are Algonquin. Most of the available information names the Algonquins, or more particularly the Abnakis, as the Indians who ravaged the settlements in the Connecticut River valley. Mrs. Jemima Howe and her seven children were taken from Ver- non, Vermont, on June 27, 1755, by Missisquoi Indians who were Abnakis. It was probably the same tribe who on August 30, 1754, attacked Number four. The pioneer had come into an unbroken forest, making his little clearing and building his log hut, where the only sound was the blow of his axe, the howl of the wolves, the song of the bird and the sough of the wind in the trees. Few dared to live far from well fortified forts. Mr. Walter Hill Crockett devotes the entire third chapter of his History of Vermont to the Indian occupation, when life was constantly threatened with “the war whoop at mid-night, the torch and the tomahawk, the cruel journeys over rough mountain trails, and the fear of attack or ambush.” Some of these dangers per- sisted even after the Revolutionary War. A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER ix The story of Mrs. Johnson’s captivity is one of the few surviving written accounts of the penalties pioneer adventure had to pay for the privilege of its liberty. The wonder is that Mrs. Johnson ever survived to tell the story. An equal wonder is that she could tell it so well. In her diary we have not just the customary legends which often accumulate details in subsequent years, but the verified account of actual events. Mr. Horace W. Bailey says: “These stories of Indian raids are historical gems, actuated by a spirit of thankfulness and gratitude to Almighty God for remarkable deliverances; with an unclouded view of conditions in a military post and a new settlement on the extreme frontier. The story of Mrs. Johnson uncovers the Indian trail into Canada, discloses aboriginal habits and mode of life and warfare.” The long original diary written by Mrs. Johnson twenty-five years after her capture is made the center of the following story. No important de- tails have been omitted. The “historical gem” has just been polished a little, and cut down to better size that its facets may shine more brilliantly. Our heritage of privilege and liberty looms large as we read of how these families were “hur- ried through thorny thickets in an unmerciful man- ner,” when “gloomy fear imposed a deadly silence,” and death seemed inevitable. The descriptions of how they were kept alive on snake-root broth, the new-born babe nourished on the juice of horse flesh, and how the tear of woe moistened the sickened cheek of every prisoner is followed, not by bitter complaints, but by gratitude “to the Author of all x A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER blessings”, and the claim that they were the “fav- orites of fortune”. “Let us not complain” was their only warning. How strange all this story seems to us who love these same valleys in which these events took place. How far away they seem in the face of our unbroken peace. “The savages are driven beyond the lakes, and our country has no enemies. The gloomy wilder- ness that secreted the Indians and the beast of prey, has vanished away; and the thrifty farm smiles in its stead; the tomahawk and the scalping-knife have given place to the plow-share and the sickle’. Be- cause Mrs. Johnson could write such sentences from her own observation she believed “no one can set a higher value on the smiles of peace, than myself”. But we should also know the price of our peace, and one way to come into its appreciation, is by an under- standing of such facts, of its origin, as are told in the following story. HERBERT H. HINES Woodstock Vermont August 10 1926 A New England Pioneer ee py tg Ne ve Lm y Jai iy byt i, a dj | : ‘e of b vp FASS Ae Ok in eee VA ae ey AN Ws Bee ee ry Ves ty. ‘ y try i Wiel th rth Tt Cle eke | 4 a yn a a Hi t si Ve ; 5 if p. Ai ‘Te doa aR a Sty Hea NN I v1 aA vaerely | Ree IAS PRR ike A! he Ry A othe a ale a A New England Pioneer So much has recently been written about the struggles of the pioneers of the West, and so vividly have the motion pictures shown the difficulties and the perils of the pack trains as they wound their way across the continent in those early days, that perhaps for the moment we have forgotten that the settlement of Northern New England was fraught with comparable danger. For two centuries the valley of the Connecticut River and the Lake Champlain region were Indian highways, where attacks were made by the French and Algonquins on the North, with counter attacks by the English and Iroquois on the South. Here are to be found accounts of wanton cruelty, of the burning and pillaging of homes, of the capture and often the savage murder of helpless women and children. At the close of the year 1636 there were settle- ments as far north as Hartford, Connecticut and Springfield, Massachusetts, comprising perhaps a total population of a thousand persons. Then from time to time, adventurous souls pushed on up both sides of the Connecticut into the wilds, often only to be driven back to the more populous and better fortified settlements. NUMBER Four By 1740 a few families: had struggled on to a place which is now Charlestown, New Hampshire, then known as “Number 4”, which was for fourteen 2 A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER years the most northerly white settlement in the Connecticut Valley. In 1744 the building of a fort in “Number 4” was begun and that same year an ancestress of the writer of this paper, Susanna Willard, at the age of fourteen, describes a visit she made to her par- ents, who had moved to this outpost of civilization two years before. She does not state why she had been left behind, perhaps to go to school. At all events, she says her journey began at Leominster, and from the map, it would seem that she had to travel a distance of sixty miles. She does not say whether the journey was made on foot or on horse- back, but it must have been by one means or the other, for she tells us that marked trees were their guides as they cautiously picked their way through gloomy forest and only a few solitary inhabitants were passed. The first object to be seen when she reached “Number 4” was a party of Indians, holding a war dance, their spirits having been raised by a keg of rum. At this time this settlement was composed of nine or ten families, who lived in huts not far apart. The Indians in this region were then num- erous and friendly. During her visit the erection of a saw mill was celebrated by a party and the first boards sawed were used for a dance. Notices OF Mr. JAMES JOHNSON In three years this girl visitor married. We wish she had told us how long she tarried in “Num- ber 4” and something about her courtship, but that is all left to our imagination. We are glad however A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER 3 that we have some information about the man she married. It seems that in 1730 Colonel Josiah Wil- lard, an uncle of Susanna, was in Boston, and one day went to the wharf to see some transports that had just landed from Ireland. He found a group of gentlemen who were looking at some lads, who had been placed on shore in order that they might ex- hibit their activity to those who wished to purchase. Colonel Willard noticed particularly a boy about ten years old. He was the only one of the crew who spoke English and he bargained for him. In telling about this event, the future wife of this lad wrote: “T have never been able to learn the price, but as he was afterward my husband, I am willing to suppose it was a considerable sum.” The boy was questioned about his parentage and descent but all the informa- tion secured was that young James Johnson a con- siderable time previous went to sea with his uncle who commanded a ship and had the appearance of a man of property; that his uncle was taken sick and died; and that immediately after his death they came in sight of this ship of Irish transports and the boy was put on board. Because he was the only one of the crew who spoke English and because of other circumstances, his friends became convinced that the removal of the boy to the Irish ship was to facilitate the sequestration of his property. He lived with Colonel Willard until he was twenty years old and then he bought the remaining year of his time. In 1747 at the age of about twenty-nine, he married, and the following year Governor Shirley gave him a lieutenant’s commission under Edward Hartwell, Esquire. 4 A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER The two years previous to this marriage were critical times for the inhabitants of “Number 4.” There were constant raids by the Indians, prisoners were taken, several were killed outright. At last fatigued with watching, and weary of the dangers of the forest, the town was deserted in the fall of 1746. Six months later Colonel Phineas Stevens with thirty men returned to the fort which also had been deserted and found it uninjured and in good condi- tion. An old spaniel and a cat had guarded it safe- ly through the winter and gave the soldiers a hearty welcome. A few days after the fort had been taken over by Captain Stevens and his troops, a furious attack was made by 300 French and Indians. The battle lasted for five days. Every stratagem possible was practiced by the enemy to reduce the garrison but to no avail and at the end of the fifth day the enemy retreated. An express was at once sent to Boston with the tidings, and Governor Charles Knowles rewarded Captain Stevens with a handsome sword, and in gratitude for his kindness the town was named Charlestown. In a few months Captain Stevens was joined by his family and the record states he encouraged the settlers by his fortitude and industry. CHARLESTOWN The following year, when James Johnson and Susanna Willard had been married two years (we are not sure where that time was spent, but it was PHOTOGBAPH BY CLARA E. SIPPRELL WHERE THE CHILD WAS BORN Here and there, surrounded by the smiling loveliness of Vermont farm lands, wilderness still exists. Time has gone by without chang- ing the spot where, by the side of the stony brook, Captive Johnson was born 172 years ago (1754) f “2 : ey : she a rae fe Aaa AAD att i ~ ) ee Mit aii tia aie yah? ae val shy en Aus apa 4 By . ‘ APES VS a ty a ae os Ha a i? seer oe rah - AR VP ithe a any ay eae? PON ua B Uae oF aden | He bpd iin wg ‘} Ae, Re shunts ihe eee Oh i oe te 4 ah ot) nf Heine A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER a probably in Leominister), she writes that her husband’s enterprising spirit made him wish to re- move to Charlestown. So they undertook the hazard- ous, fatiguing journey. They arrived safe at the fort and found there five families who had been equally venturesome. Two or three days after their arrival, information was received of the cessation of war be- tween Great Britain and France. Orders were re- ceived from Massachusetts that the troops were to be withdrawn from Charlestown. The enemy must have had advance information of the plan to evacuate, for the very day the soldiers left, the Indians appeared, shot Ensign Sartwell, who unsuspicious of danger was harrowing corn, and took the boy who was with him prisoner. Only seven women and four men were left in the fort. The father and brother of Mrs. Johnson were in the meadow and hearing the guns supposed the fort had been destroyed and fled to secure aid. Her husband had gone to Northfield and was able to get back in two days with five or six others. A post was dispatched to Boston to carry the news of the attack, but it was ten days before the sentry cried out that troops were coming. Great was the relief of all concerned when those of their number who had been missing, including both father and brother, were found to be with the troops. This was the last time the frontiers suffered during the Cape Breton War. For the next three years the settlers lived most of the time in the fort, going out from there to cultivate the fields; but as is quaintly said, “Not much confidence was placed in the Savages.” 8 A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER THE SITUATION OF THE COUNTRY As peace continued, the enmity of the Indians gradually seemed to disappear. They evidenced a desire for friendly intercourse and came to traffic in furs and to trade for blankets, etc. Every ap- pearance of hostility at length vanished and it seemed safe to move to the farms not far distant from the fort. Settlements increased with tolerable rapidity and the new country began to assume the appearance of civilization. The year 1753 was all harmony and safety. But very early in the following year a rupture between the French and the English seemed likely. The disputed boundary line between Canada and the English Colonies being the cause of trouble, the frontier towns were in a perilous position. War however was not immediately expected and Mrs. Johnson wrote that her husband felt he could risk a business trip to Connecticut. He set out the last day of May and the three months he was gone were full of anxious forebodings for those left behind. The Indians were reported to be on a march of de- struction. The terrors that were experienced especially at night were horrible beyond descrip- tion. And during the day every one treaded cautiously by hedge and hillock, lest some secreted savage might start forth to take his scalp. Their gloomy fears were soon confirmed by the news of the capture of a family on Merrimac River. Their imaginations now saw and heard a_ thousand Indians. On the twenty-fourth of August, the Connecti- cut traveler returned with reports that a war was PHOTOGRAPH BY CLARA E, SIPPRELL THE CONNECTICUT NEAR CHARLESTOWN A peaceful, quiet, beautiful river slowly winding its way between pastures and wooded hills of Vermont and New Hampshire, once a great Indian highway. It was along this stretch that the Indians dragged their prisoners on the morning of the capture, and it was probably this island, known then as Wilcott Island, that they used as a convenient stopover in crossing the river on improvised rafts ain CA bs 4 ‘i : Mi as fa a ah ti is on Bis i ies Pe an iby ee ay i Wx ‘ay a i , ni bi t { i fsa ' " he 4 q 3 } tH iy, (7% , t ay ot 4 at ’ J oMike ’ % im {ae £5, wi | abi ' y Nj ve aie fe | one ; ffl : Cit Ht j : , h : HOR ; Les % - Hi ’ ‘ y is H . 5 4 ; 14 1 - i, wu i fe 4 7 , , y ‘, if] ’ at ‘ ¢ 4 } ‘ , a 4 bated oh a oe3 te Winey Hy a yt BMA, CAM UN A kenga ge NR Zc a na Py ; VERA? ik u yy Gite MONS eter TEAR a RO Burr Hiss AN AT ange AMET a ‘aulth’s - sane ‘day ue ua Whenthy a as ; Wi oat: very hal beh: {mh vk 08 ne | | er hatte Wi Qidrto aed "Harlt 4 a A ee th shay me 2 eee Ae " ae ein coy hahah '9 Bo er hed oT oh al ‘WM ee bincesedbdelaith : Da ae Girnthang np ehlaay. oy The (Wi ay" Nighi aot leah a | «PERS (ASD ee AOR Ne ak ibis Sabai Mes Ai oa ae Ne | | rT ' PSS de Did ie Mh ‘i mre parm ane hy ? ne Wen ih idbiine't Bae to te Nal eH Rei ihe ne . a Ue Me CN De ch A OK iden wy wed ne iT eel A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER 11 expected in the spring, but that no immediate danger was contemplated. Preparations were therefore made to remove to Northfield as soon as the hay had been consumed and the pigs fattened on an ample stock of grain. THE DIARY OF THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE WILDERNESS Frequent parties were given to celebrate the re- turn of the traveler and on the evening of August twenty-ninth the neighbors assembled and spent the time very cheerfully with watermelon and flip until midnight. Little did they then realize what days of horror were to follow. Their experiences can best be described in the words of Mrs. Johnson. “We rested with fine composure till daybreak when we were roused by neighbor Labaree knocking at the door. He had shouldered his ax to do a day’s work for my husband. My husband opened the door. “Indians, Indians” were the first words I heard. In an instant a crowd of savages fixed horribly for war rushed furiously in. I screamed and begged my friends to ask for quarter. By this time they were all over the house, some upstairs, some haul- ing my sister Miriam out of bed, another had hold of me and one was approaching my husband, who stood in the middle of the floor to deliver himself up, but the Indian, supposing he would make re- sistance, and be more than his match went to the door and brought three of his comrades and the four bound him. I was led to the door fainting and trembling. There stood my friend Labaree, bound,— Ebenezer Farnsworth whom they found up chamber, ib A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER they were putting in the same situation and to com- plete the shocking scene, my three little children, Sylvanus, six years old, Susanna, age four, and Polly, two years old, were driven naked to the place where I stood. “After what little plunder their hurry would al- low them to get, was confusedly bundled up, we were ordered to march. Two savages laid hold of each of my arms, and hurried me through thorny thickets in a most unmerciful manner. I lost a shoe and suffered exceedingly. My little children were crying, my husband and the two other men were bound and my sister and myself were obliged to make the best of our way with all our might. The loss of my shoe rendered travelling extremely painful. At the distance of three miles there was a general halt; the savages supposing that we, as well as themselves, might have an appetite for breakfast, gave us a loaf of bread, some raisins and apples which they had taken from the house. While we were forcing down our scanty breakfast, a horse came in sight, known to all by the name of Scoggin. One of the Indians attempted to shoot him, but was prevented. They then expressed a wish to catch him saying by pointing to me “for Squaw to ride.” My husband had been unbound to assist with the children; he with two Indians caught the horse on the bank of the river. By this time my legs and feet were covered with blood and the Indians gave me a pair of Moggasons. Bags and blankets were thrown over Scoggin and I mounted on the top of them and on we jogged for about seven miles, to the upper end of Wilcott’s Island. PHOTOGRAPH BY CLARA E. SIPPRELL THE BLACK RIVER Typical of the country traversed by the Indians and their prisoners is this picture of Black River, on the banks of which they camped on the third day of their journey. In the background are the mount- ains that they had to cross on the fourth and fifth days before they reached “the waters that ran into Lake Champlain” a | Prt Ye Pe SUNS ALon WT Se AU fe: . ANN fi ap st ate Hl RON ri vy ae ; > bay 7 Ny Oi ‘ aa ; be i sb ane, a i 1 Guid \ eh Kk ; bAGf , vt ROR eis NREL RE cS, + Nw ews We? any } Ata bit Wit he Aa 3 nH Oh ay Hi iM} es a WU aI OO RL ayy it ei Nyite nv , : CHM VP hay BA i HAREM cn tata ! mu i 5 Wa A Sty Ker RE Pb Mis Ge a ania tat Ike hi: ‘ Mi Ashe oi ih? eT Rie OE OLE Re Ha * Bie . ") a aie, | prvi i RSP es Nese car Oi Ab tea \ 4D, ’ vis) At He : ‘ f } eel) Jbl oe had i a ‘ AA ; "4 iy i i t $ \ At ; a oe } a ny ‘ef mt Hy oe a hea - , } ‘ " j aise } : : ry ie ot Ay \Gi = «4 tN Fo), ah ae Nha, GNI big iy annie . . yi ws ula ip Nae aM Fyne ; SARs Samy ty sus et oi feaaiogh fe 4 Pe bie AM RT eg se a we be CA OCCA VRS TA sais ate AP , j ARN in Sind Me Rds Y pif Wal dha Wide ( mn Veen y oi A: “yeh Ma CE AR Bath be AY Snai AY ye ; shia ' 559 610 Brinn id! eel ey bb eee yee saen a F A NE ey TT aazE: wend PVs DP UE NRAED RY Cee in: ah . 4) “pode kagilty Lin Sh) Sel a, Niels os ak eehalnele POUT RC Rt GAP MS tM Fhe mh ” tpt a | i A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER 15 We then halted and prepared to cross the river; rafts were made of dry timber; two Indians and Farnsworth crossed first, Labaree, by signs, got permission to swim the horse; my husband was al- lowed to swim by the raft, that I was on, to push it along. We all arrived safe on the opposite shore, a fire was kindled and some of the stolen kettles were hung over it and filled with porridge. The savages took delight in viewing the spoil which amounted to forty or fifty pounds in value. Our tarry in this place lasted an hour. Then the Indians pronounced the dreadful word ‘‘munch” (march) and on we must go. We went six or eight miles and stopped for the night. The men were made secure by having their legs put in slit sticks, somewhat like stocks and tied with cords, which were tied to the limbs of trees too high to be reach- ed. My sister, Miriam, much to her mortification must lie between two Indians, with a cord thrown over her and passing under each of them; the little children had blankets and I was allowed one for my use. Thus we took lodging for the night with the sky for a covering and the ground for a pillow. In the morning we were roused before sunrise, the Indians struck up a fire and made us some water gruel. After a few sips, I was again put on the horse, with my husband by my side to hold me on. “It soon became imperative to call a halt on my account. The Indians showed humanity by making a booth for me and at about ten o’clock a baby daughter was born. ‘They then brought me some articles of clothing for the child, which they had taken from the house. My master looked into the 16 A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER booth, and clapped his hands with joy, crying “two monies for me, two monies for me.” I was permit- ted to rest the remainder of the day. The Indians were employed in making a bier for the prisoners to carry me on, and another booth for my lodging during the night. They brought a needle and two pins and some bark to tie the child’s clothes. At dusk they made some porridge and johnny cakes, my portion was brought me in a little bark. In the morning we were summoned for the journey. I with my infant in arms, was laid on the litter, which was supported alternately by my husband, La- baree, and Farnsworth. My sister and son were put upon Scoggin and the two little girls rode on their masters’ backs. Thus we proceeded two miles, when my carriers grew too faint to proceed any further. This being observed, a general halt was called for council. My Indian master soon made signs to Mr. Johnson that if I could ride on the horse, I might proceed, otherwise I must be left behind. Here I observed marks of pity on his countenance but this might arise from fear of losing his two monies. I preferred to attempt to ride on the horse, rather than to perish miserably alone. My weakness was too severe to allow me to sit on the horse long at a time. Every hour I was taken off and laid on the ground to rest. “On the fifth day the Indians sent out two or three hunting parties, who returned without game. Our last morsel of meal had been consumed. Hunger with all its horrors looked us earnestly in the face. Before dark we halted; a plan to relieve their hunger was decided on by the Indians and Scoggin PHOTOGRAPH BY CLARA E. SIPPRELL THE BEAVER POND This is one of many small ponds that are found on the Otter Creek and its branches in the region crossed by the party of prisoners in 1754. It may be the very pond that Mrs. Johnson was forced to wade on the sixth day after her child was born and in the middle of which she fainted from cold and exhaustion 7 i “at > an ea 44 ts « , RTS URS) 1 i Ol Y sh "AY ; ai ie (>) ekG ee Au ae A] 4 } } i : a tay ; vii PY Ypres 4 ee See WN ba } ( | ie ithe x ye ihe Al , bay nh aM : vit Waa ots Mel.) RN ira Pana We! aed tits ie A oe} ' i be A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER 19 was shot. His flesh was in a few moments broil- ing on the embers. “On the morning of the sixth day, the war whoop was sounded and we began to fix for a march; my fate was unknown till my master brought some bark and tied my petticoats as high as he supposed would be convenient for walking and ordered me to “munch.” With scarce strength to stand alone, I went on for half a mile. My power to move then failed, the world grew dark and I dropped down. A council was held and a pack-saddle was made for my conveyance on the back of my husband, who took me up and we marched in that form the rest of the day. After supper my booth was built as usual and I reposed much better than I had the preceding nights. In the morning (the seventh day) I found myself greatly restored. I “munched” in the rear till we came to a beaver pond. Here I was obliged to wade; when half way over, up to the middle in cold water, my little strength failed and my power to speak or see left me. While motion- less, and stiffened in the middle of the pond, I was perceived from the other side by my husband who laid down the infant and came to my assistance; he took me in his arms and when the opposite shore was gained, life had apparently forsaken me. The whole company stopped, a fire was built, my strength was restored by degrees and in two hours I was told to “munch.” The rest of the day I was carried by my husband. In the middle of the after- noon, we arrived on the banks of one of the great branches of Otter Creek. The river was very rapid and passing dangerous. Mr. Labaree when half 20 A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER over with my child was tripped up by its rapidity and lost the babe in the water; little did I expect to see the poor thing again but Mr. Labaree fortunat- ly reached a corner of its blanket and saved its life. The rest of us got safe to the other shore, another fire was built and my sister dried the in- fant and its clothes. “The eighth day Mr. Johnson took me on the pack saddle and we resumed our march. That night was terrible with thunder, lightning, and rain; the cold earth to lie on and no cover over our heads. “We had not proceeded far the next day (the ninth) when the Indians signified to us that we should arrive before night at East Bay on Lake Champlain. This was a cordial to our drooping spirits and caused an immediate transition from de- spair to joy. The idea of arriving at a place of water-carriage translated us to new life. “My son Sylvanus, six years old, had walked barefoot the whole journey. My two little girls with only their shirts and part of one of the three gowns which the Indians gave me were subject to all the damps of morn and night and Mr. Johnson’s situation was pitiably painful. The fatigue of car- rying me on the wearying pack saddle had rendered his emaciated body almost a corpse and his sore feet made him a cripple. My sister Miriam, owing to her youth and health, suffered least. She was only fourteen years old. “About the middle of the afternoon the waters of the Lake were seen. Here we were to take pass- age in boats and find relief from thorny hills and PHOTOGRAPH BY CLARA E,. SIPPRELL THE OTTER CREEK RAPIDS Some of the water power that years ago tripped kind Mr. Labarree and nearly carried away the newly born Johnson infant has been since captured by civilization and most of the Otter Creek rapids have been marred by mills and power stations. But here and there a wild, untouched spot remains, where the rushing stream carries us back to the time when little Captive was nearly drowned in its foam Si ah vis ! aie d ea a | Ne A ita a OES P ANOS Ue aaa ole ; ( ? ’ 0 >) i nf =; y j i wat \ = ‘| ‘wea \ A i h j ih i , ’ ‘tn ‘ Need i yas , = i i ¥ a 1 ray : i Ay bie teak an * aK “ =f gre) - > AS ies ey th i? ‘ * at ah ; i ( ;' fi ¢ et 7 ix 4 {ied A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER 2S miry swamps. Twelve hours sailing would waft us to the settlements of civilized Frenchmen. “When we reached Crown Point, each prisoner was led by his master to the residence of the French Commander. We were ordered to his apartment, and used with that hospitality which characterizes the best of the nation. We had brandy in profu- sion, a good dinner and a change of linen. I had a nurse who in great measure restored my exhaust- ed strength. children were all decently clothed and my infant ‘in particular. The first day, while I was taking a nap, they dressed it so fantastically, a la France, that I refused to own it, not guessing that I was the mother of such a strange thing. “A respite of only three days was allowed us and then we were again delivered to the Indians, who led us to the water side, where we all embarked in one vessel for St. Johns, where we arrived after a disagreeable voyage of three days. We had now come to within a few miles of St. Francis, where our Indian Masters belonged. The settlement of St. Francis consisted of about thirty wigwams and a church, in which mass was held every night and morning. My fellow prisoners were dispersed over the town. I found myself with my infant in a large wigwam with two or three warriors and as many squaws. When the hour for sleep came, I was pointed to a platform raised half a yard, where upon a board covered with a blanket, I was to spend the night. “Mr. Johnson was only allowed to stay a few days in St. Francis and then he was carried to 24 A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER Montreal to be sold. My two daughters were soon after taken to the same place. “My Indian master being a hunter wished my son to attend him on his excursions. He therefore arranged for an exchange of prisoners. The ex- change was made with great formality. My son and blankets being an equivalent for myself, child and wampum. I was then taken to the house of my new master and found myself allied to the first family. My master was son in law to the Grand Sachem. On my arrival at his wigwam, an in- terpreter informed me that I was adopted into his family. I was then introduced to the family and was told to call them brothers and sisters. I made a short reply, expressive of my gratitude at being introduced to a house of such high rank, and re- quested their patience until I could learn the cus- toms of the nation. “My time now was solitary beyond description ; my new sisters and brothers treated me with the same attention that they did their natural kindred, but it was an unnatural situation to me. I was a novice at making canoes, bunks and tumplines, which was the only occupation of the squaws; of course idleness was among my calamities. The uneasiness occasioned by indolence was in some measure re- lieved by the privilege of making shirts for my “brother.” At night and morn I was allowed to milk the cows. The rest of the time, I strolled gloomily about, looking sometimes into an unsocia- ble wigwam, at others sauntering into the bushes and walking on the banks of brooks. Once I went with a party to fish, accompanied by a number of PHOTOGRAPH BY CLARA E. SIPPRELL THE EAST BAY OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN Time has changed the character of the country, but the sky, the dis- tant mountains, the quiet blue waters of Lake Champlain set in a frame of dark hemlocks and golden red foliage, were the same in September, 1926, as on the day when Mrs. Johnson and her fel- low prisoners, their spirits revived by the joy of having reached a place of water carriage, beheld “the waters of Lake Champlain from a neighboring eminence” on the ninth day of their arduous journey ein Ae y i iif ist Nata he Tak ; sy Meal ; Fae tae F) rite as. | ied ; hy } ere. Tee ? rap ue rt Ait | r sis i ’ } ' ; f , ae , i ‘ hi? ‘ ’ 4 sherds. | ; ; ' ‘ Ai ty if) me Wry Solely } i ' fu) } Di Oi ; F ; ; : TEP Ay dy i j Hara ty SUA Arcot al YS eats OD al MM inn ‘ 19 Y CAT OU Nee BT ANC ME he chyba ri) A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER 27 squaws. My weakness obliged me to rest often, which gave my companions a poor opinion of me, but they showed no other resentment than calling me “NO GOOD SQUAW,” which was the only re- proach my sister ever gave when I displeased her. “One morning, my little son came running to me, his eyes swollen with tears, exclaiming that the Indians were going to carry him away into the woods to hunt; he threw his little arms around me, begging in the agony of grief that I would keep him. The keenness of my pangs almost obliged me to wish I never had been a mother. ‘Farewell, Sylvanus,’ said I, ‘God will preserve you.’ “In justice to the Indians, I ought to remark that they never treated me with cruelty to a wanton de- gree. Few people have survived a situation like mine and few have fallen into the hands of savages disposed to more lenity and patience. Modesty has ever been a characteristic of every savage tribe, a truth which my whole family will corroborate. Can it be said of civilized conquerors that in the main they are willing to share their last ration of food with their prisoners? Do they ever adopt an enemy and salute him by the tender name of brother? “In the early days of November, over sixty days since our captivity, Mr. Johnson wrote from Mont- real asking me to try to prevail on the Indians to carry me there to be sold, as he had made pro- vision for that purpose. The Indians agreed to this and on the eleventh day thereafter, I had _ the supreme satisfaction of meeting my husband, chil- dren and friends and I then learned that all my fellow prisoners had been purchased by respectable 28 A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER persons, by whom they were treated with humanity.” Thus in her own words, Mrs. Johnson told the tale of the capture of herself and family by the Indians and of her life with them until the time came for her to be delivered to the French in Montreal. ¥ RESIDENCE IN THE CRIMINAL JAILS All prisoners held for ransom in Canada at this time seem to have been treated alike in certain par- ticulars. It was customary for captives to be bought and taken into the houses of residents, where in some cases they were treated well, in others conditions must have been extremely difficult. The mere fact that it often involved the separation of various mem- bers of families could hardly fail to work hardship in many instances. Mrs. Johnson, her sister Miriam.and the baby were taken into the home of a French family by the name of DuQuesne. A place was found for Susanna with three maiden ladies, named Jaisson, and Polly was bought by the Mayor of the City. On November 12th, the day after their arrival in Montreal, a two months’ parole was granted James Johnson that he might return to New England and try to procure money to redeem his family. He went first to Boston to lay his case before the Governor. Governor Shirley referred it to the Gen- eral Assembly. After deliberation by that body, the sum of £10 was granted to defray his expenses, but no hope was held out of any further assistance. He was advised to apply to New Hampshire. This he A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER 29 did with more success, in that he was promised notes to the value of £150, and instructions were given him as to the way in which this money should be spent. He was told to go to Canada and to negotiate there in the best and most frugal manner possible the purchasing of as many captives as he might hear of that had been taken from any part of the province. Credentials were then given him by Governor Went- worth of New Hampshire, a passport was secured from Governor Shirley of Massachusetts, and every- thing seemed satisfactorily arranged for his return to Montreal. He had proceeded, however, only a short distance when»he received orders that he must not even make an attempt to go further as word had been received that an invasion by the French was imminent. In Montreal his failure to appear within the specified time was considered a breach of parole and an abuse of confidence. In consequence, the posi- tion of his family was seriously affected. They were looked at askance, assistance was withdrawn from them. It became necessary for Mrs. Johnson and Miriam to try to earn money to support themselves. Six months elapsed before permission was given Mr. Johnson to return to Canada. He was then ordered to proceed privately through Albany. He set out immediately and when he reached Albany, notes on certain individuals in Canada were given him. During his absence, conditions in Montreal had changed materially and on his arrival there, a new Governor refused to accept apologies for his breach of parole, his notes were protested and he was 30 A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER thrown into jail, where soon after orders were re- ceived for his removal to Quebec, and it was stipulat- ed that his wife and his two youngest daughters should accompany him. Before leaving Montreal, the baby was taken ill and the belief of many of the people was so strong that, if she were not baptized, she would either die or be carried off by the devil, that consent was given for the ceremony of baptism. According to the wish of Madame DuQuesne, the baby was named Louise for her and the baby’s mother added the name Captive; and it is by the latter name that this daughter is always mentioned. OO Pat 7 i iA : Le | oi } i 5 ) ‘ 4 isi? P HE i a ¥ ' 7 4 ? jos / ine 7; ve } Ae ; ? ; iy . } 7 4 { 7) s \ ' ; hy i Tees iW hi Ts) it fH) oN? V ei! ‘ ( / ’ ‘> ’ % nh ‘ i 4} 4 vv d , cs. p f j “whe i iF . : ’ j i} ain 4 ¥ ‘ \ ‘ ‘ ‘ 4 : ‘ ‘ i! i ‘ j “ ¥ ne \ r f 1 Ty 2 : a « Me | t , ‘ i f ’ ‘ t ) { \ 7 *} “ 1 ¢" ¢ i ‘ f f ij 7 ie, i aT r aay Tike 1 ai abd | , ih J f ¢ i ay ’ % } ; / , 7 f ' : oy As ” i . i ri J ’ ig: ia a4 \ a \ tis . ' ¥; Ls i ‘ hi , rt ~ ’ ey i : : ; ' fi t mi ae, a o a : Mio ae ‘A } I a } H ‘ . 4 i ¥ i : ( Y etry hie f,. A, , i had yi ¢ ; ae | Wid CS thy & 2 a7 fa coe | Bah uy, Moi Heyl j ; AR At i. fer) iy , a Wd ne f ‘ms mu Ms mth pas , ‘ ee Nida rem ey y Pea! Be ero Peer eRe Fite aes « xt ae Hi A Hh, a { J Sie 4 y ,) ; : Cdyn vt at fe NO aK AS | Mag VON ONL Des! atlas Pe Mm ta Sige. bint A tiles Saigo . if EAT AAR SOPRA INO St Da i Sa we aga aes pee hat 4 A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER 41 deemed safe for her to return to Charlestown in October 1759. Conditions however could not have been very stable there, for the very next summer Joseph Willard, who lived only two miles away, was captured by the Indians with his wife and five children and carried to Montreal. They arrived there only a few days before the French surrend- ered it to the English. When they returned to Charlestown, after an absence of about four months, they brought Susanna with them. She had been with the three maiden ladies, the Jaissons, for five years. They had treated her as their own. Their principal care had been to give her the accomplish- ments of a polite education. Susanna loved them dearly. She had forgotten her family and spoke nothing but French. THE HISTORY ENDS In Charlestown Mrs. Johnson had inherited a house from hei mother, and this became her home; and to help support her family, she and her brother went into partnership and kept a small store. The general assembly of New Hampshire granted her forty-two pounds as indemnity for losses sustained in the war. Much delay and perplexity were occasioned in the settlement of Mr. Johnson’s estate. It would seem as if in those early days the processes of law might have been comparatively simple, but such does not seem to have been the case, for in order to arrive at a settlement, the widow had to take three journeys to Portsmouth, fourteen to Boston, and three to Springfield; and this was no easy task, 42 A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER for the roads were rough and the means of travel primitive. Three years after the death of her husband, Mrs, Johnson, who was then thirty-two years old, married Mr. John Hastings. He had been one of the early settlers. She writes that she remembered having seen him on her first visit to Charlestown when she was fourteen years old. Of the remaining forty-nine years of her life, Mrs. Johnson wrote little. She told that her hus- band lived on for forty-two years and that they had seven children five of whom died at infancy; one of their daughters lived to be twenty-two years old, the other married a man who proved to be a sore trial to his mother-in-law. She tells about two accidents that she had, one when her horse was frightened by a boy wheeling a load of flax in Charlestown. She was thrown and the violence of the fall was so great, together with a wound in her forehead, that she was taken up for dead. She told how a neighbor, Mrs. Page, sewed up the cut in her forehead and that she recovered her strength as soon as could be expected. Another time, when she was driving, the harness slipped, the horses became terrified, the wagon was overturned, she was dragged, her ankle was broken and the bone very much shattered. She was car- ried on a bier to the home of her daughter Captive, where for several weeks she suffered excruciating pain. She wrote that when she was laid on the bier, it brought fresh to her mind the bier that the Indians had made for her after the birth of her daughter Captive. A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER 43 In writing about Sylvanus no mention was made of his marrying. He is spoken of as living on in Charlestown. She told that Susanna married Captain Samuel Wetherbee, and in gratitude and affection for all that the Jaisson ladies had done for her when she was a little girl in Montreal, she named one of her sons Jason, and it was this boy, Jason Weatherbee, who was the great-grandfather of the writer of this paper. To complete the genealogy it should be stated that Jason Weatherbee married Sophia Farwell. Sophia Weatherbee married Oel Billings. His son, Frederick Billings, was the father of the writer. Both Polly and Captive married happily. There seems to have been an especial bond between Cap- tive and her mother. For forty years they cele- brated the anniversary of her birth and in after years when Captive had moved away to Canada, the day never passed unnoticed by either mother or daughter. In closing the account of her life, Mrs. Johnson mentioned with pride her thirty-eight grand- children, and twenty-eight great-grand children. She noted that in their family instances of longevity were remarkable; that her mother, before her death had been able to say to her daughter, “Arise my daughter, and go to thy daughter, for thy daugh- ter’s daughter has got a daughter.” In November, 1810, Mrs. Johnson died. She had lived to be eighty-one years old. Only a few weeks before her death she had revised the manuscript of the book which she called “The Captivity of Mrs. Johnson.” 44 A NEW ENGLAND PIONEER Near the town of Reading, Vermont, two stones stand by the side of the road. On one of them is inscribed “This is near the spot that the Indians encamped the night before they took Mr. Johnson and family, Mr. Labaree and Farnsworth, August 30th, 1754, and Mrs. Johnson was delivered of a child half a mile up this brook.” On the other smaller stone which originally stood a short distance away: ‘On the 31st of August 1754 Capt. James Johnson had a daughter born on this spot of ground being captivated with his whole family by the Indians.” : As ( é why i aN tt age “ais a oy Ie Nema apedh tse ea 9 M fo a ih; iat Tangey Fe “a Baie a, Ba: ie) he erty’ i a” ; di aot cha us iid i : se iis Aacdere . = th ie M “imal Mahe} he pie ree wr iy AN bk ae ) Ah! ne ,, i" a i Pn i Bi a, GAdhg RNa LHS neo ea a Seiad ta eohae ; | ean a) ae Tava & ni LS i a TURN | geet . Si i ne af “ , : an a ‘ 7 , nn ao Rae he Bly \y ‘ te a ay | Wee iW Bia HOC ie it ’ TA of) wr P, / j ny hy Ne ¥ Fal A en Use etl oA 0 t 4 ,’ ey ] ; UA. aA y ¢ a4 noe ny it Wy fry TY, il) 3284 .. ———— rs ¢——<————_ —°——— = 2 — a TO - 4 ————— ——— —_ > it i al Semine il Princeton oe a ar*y Thal