Diary of Anna Green Winslow, a Boston School Girl of 1771 Part 1

Diary of Anna Green Winslow.

by Anna Green Winslow.

_FOREWORD._

_In the year 1770, a bright little girl ten years of age, Anna Green Winslow, was sent from her far away home in Nova Scotia to Boston, the birthplace of her parents, to be "finished" at Boston schools by Boston teachers. She wrote, with evident eagerness and loving care, for the edification of her parents and her own practice in penmanship, this interesting and quaint diary, which forms a most sprightly record, not only of the life of a young girl at that time, but of the prim and narrow round of daily occurrences in provincial Boston. It thus a.s.sumes a positive value as an historical picture of the domestic life of that day; a value of which the little girl who wrote it, or her kinsfolk who affectionately preserved it to our own day, never could have dreamed. To many New England families it is specially interesting as a complete rendering, a perfect presentment, of the childish life of their great grandmothers, her companions._

_It is an even chance which ruling thought in the clever little writer, a love of religion or a love of dress, shows most plainly its influence on this diary. On the whole, I think that youthful vanity, albeit of a very natural and innocent sort, is more pervasive of the pages. And it is fortunate that this is the case; for, from the frankly frivolous though far from self-conscious entries we gain a very exact notion, a very valuable picture, of the dress of a young girl at that day. We know all the details of her toilet, from the "pompedore" shoes and the shifts (which she had never worn till she lived in Boston), to the absurd and top-heavy head-decoration of "black feathers, my past comb & all my past garnet marquasett and jet pins, together with my silver plume."

If this fantastic a.s.semblage of ornament were set upon the "Heddus roll," so graphically described, it is easy to understand the denunciations of the time upon women's headgear. In no contemporary record or account, no matter who the writer, can be found such a vivacious and witty description of the modish hairdressing of that day as in the pages of this diary._

_But there are many entries in the journal of this vain little Puritan devotee to show an almost equal attention to religion; records of sermons which she had heard, and of religious conversations in which she had taken a self-possessed part; and her frequent use of Biblical expressions and comparisons shows that she also remembered fully what she read. Her ambitious theological sermon-notes were evidently somewhat curtailed by the sensible advice of the aunt with whom she resided, who thereby checked also the consequent injudicious praise of her pastor, the Old South minister. For Anna and her kinsfolk were of the congregation of the Old South church; and this diary is in effect a record of the life of Old South church attendants. Many were what Anna terms "sisters of the Old South," and nine tenths of the names of her companions and friends may be found on the baptismal and membership records of that church._

_Anna was an industrious little wight, active in all housewifely labors and domestic accomplishments, and attentive to her lessons.

She could make "pyes," and fine network; she could knit lace, and spin linen thread and woolen yarn; she could make purses, and embroider pocket-books, and weave watch strings, and piece patchwork. She learned "dansing, or danceing I should say," from one Master Turner; she attended a sewing school, to become a neat and deft little sempstress, and above all, she attended a writing school to learn that most indispensable and most appreciated of eighteenth century accomplishments--fine writing. Her handwriting, of which a fac-simile is here shown, was far better than that of most girls of twelve to-day; with truth and justice could Anna say, "Aunt says I can write pretily." Her orthography was quite equal to that of grown persons of her time, and her English as good as that of Mercy Warren, her older contemporary writer._

_And let me speak also of the condition of her diary. It covers seventy-two pages of paper about eight inches long by six and a half inches wide. The writing is uniform in size, every letter is perfectly formed; it is as legible as print, and in the entire diary but three blots can be seen, and these are very small. A few pages were ruled by the writer, the others are unruled. The old paper, though heavy and good, is yellow with age, and the water marks C.F.R. and the crown stand out distinctly. The sheets are sewed in a little book, on which a marbled paper cover has been placed, probably by a later hand than Anna's. Altogether it is a remarkably creditable production for a girl of twelve._

_It is well also to compare her constant diligence and industry displayed to us through her records of a day's work--and at another time, of a week's work--with that of any girl of her age in a corresponding station of life nowadays. We learn that physical pain or disability were no excuse for slothfulness; Anna was not always well--had heavy colds, and was feverish; but well or ill was always employed. Even with painful local afflictions such as a "whitloe,"

she still was industrious, "improving it to perfect myself in learning to spin flax." She read much--the Bible constantly--and also found amus.e.m.e.nt in reading "a variety of composures."_

_She was a friendly little soul, eager to be loved; resenting deeply that her Aunt Storer let "either one of her chaises, her chariot or babyhutt," pa.s.s the door every day, without sending for her; going cheerfully tea-drinking from house to house of her friends; delighting even in the catechising and the sober Thursday Lecture.

She had few amus.e.m.e.nts and holidays compared with the manifold pleasures that children have nowadays, though she had one holiday which the Revolution struck from our calendar--the King's Coronation Day. She saw the Artillery Company drill, and she visited brides and babies and old folks, and attended some funerals. When she was twelve years old she "came out"--became a "miss in her teens"--and went to a succession of prim little routs or parties, which she called "const.i.tutions." To these decorous a.s.semblies girls only were invited,--no rough Boston boys. She has left to us more than one clear, perfect picture of these formal little routs in the great low-raftered chamber, softly alight with candles on mantel-tree and in sconces; with Lucinda, the black maid, "shrilly piping;" and rows of demure little girls of Boston Brahmin blood, in high rolls and feathers, discreetly partaking of hot and cold punch, and soberly walking and curtsying through the minuet; fantastic in costume, but proper and seemly in demeanor, models of correct deportment as were their elegant mammas._

_But Anna was not solemn; she was always happy, and often merry--full of life and wit. She jested about getting a "fresh seasoning with Globe salt," and wrote some labored jokes and some unconscious ones home to her mother. She was subject to "egregious fits of laughterre," and fully proved the statement, "Aunt says I am a whimsical child." She was not beautiful. Her miniature is now owned by Miss Elizabeth C. Trott of Niagara Falls, the great grand-daughter of General John Winslow, and a copy is shown in the frontispiece. It displays a gentle, winning little face, delicate in outline, as is also the figure, and showing some hint also of delicacy of const.i.tution. It may be imagination to think that it is plainly the face of one who could never live to be old--a face typical of youth._

_Let us glance at the stock from whence sprung this tender and engaging little blossom. When the weary Pilgrims landed at Cape Cod before they made their memorable landing at Plymouth, a sprightly young girl jumped on sh.o.r.e, and was the first English woman to set foot on the soil of New England. Her name was Mary Chilton. She married John Winslow, the brother of Governor Edward Winslow. Anna Green Winslow was Mary Chilton's direct descendant in the sixth generation._

_Anna's grandfather, John Winslow the fourth, was born in Boston.

His son Joshua wrote thus in the Winslow Family Bible: "Jno Winslow my Honor'd Father was born ye 31 Dec. at 6 o'c. in the morning on the Lords Day, 1693, and was baptized by Mr. Willard the next day & dyed att sea Octo. 13, 1731 aged 38 years." A curious att.i.tude was a.s.sumed by certain Puritan ministers, of reluctance and even decided objection and refusal to baptize children who were unlucky enough to be born on the Lord's Day; but Samuel Willard, the pastor of the "South Church" evidently did not concur in that extraordinary notion, for on the day following "Jno's" birth--on New Year's Day--he was baptized. He was married on September 21, 1721, to Sarah Pierce, and in their ten years of married life they had three children._

_Joshua Winslow, Anna's father, was the second child. He was born January 23, 1727, and was baptized at the Old South. He was "published" with his cousin Anna Green on December 7, 1758, and married to her four weeks later, January 3, 1759. An old piece of embroidered tapestry herein shown gives a good portrayal of a Boston wedding-party at that date; the costumes, coach, and cut of the horses' mane and tail are very curious and interesting to note. Mrs.

Winslow's mother was Anna Pierce (sister of Sarah), and her father was Joseph Green, the fourth generation from Percival Green, whose descendants have been enumerated by Dr. Samuel Abbott Green, the president of the Ma.s.sachusetts Historical Society, in his book ent.i.tled "Account of Percival and Ellen Green and some of their descendants."_

_Mrs. Joshua Winslow was the oldest of twelve Green children, hence the vast array of uncles and aunts and cousins in little Anna's diary._

_Joseph Green, Anna's maternal grandfather, was born December 12, 1703, and was baptised on the same day. He died July 11, 1765. He was a wealthy man for his time, being able to pay Governor Belcher 3,600 for a tract of land on Hanover Street. His firm name was Green & Walker. A fine portrait of him by Copley still exists._

_Thus Anna came of good stock in all lines of descent. The Pierces were of the New Hampshire provincial gentry, to which the Wentworths and Langdons also belonged._

_Before Joshua Winslow was married, when he was but eighteen years of age, he began his soldierly career. He was a Lieutenant in Captain Light's company in the regiment of Colonel Moore at the taking of Louisburg in 1745. He was then appointed Commissary-General of the British forces in Nova Scotia, and an account-book of his daily movements there still exists. Upon his return to New England he went to live at Marshfield, Ma.s.sachusetts, in the house afterwards occupied by Daniel Webster. But troublous times were now approaching for the faithful servants of the King.

Strange notions of liberty filled the heads of many Ma.s.sachusetts men and women; and soon the Revolution became more than a dream.

Joshua Winslow in that crisis, with many of his Marshfield friends and neighbors, sided with his King._

_He was in Marshfield certainly in June, 1775, for I have a letter before me written to him there by Mrs. Deming at that date. One clause of this letter is so amusing that I cannot resist quoting it.

We must remember that it was written in Connecticut, whence Mrs.

Deming had fled in fright and dismay at the siege of Boston; and that she had lost her home and all her possessions. She writes in answer to her brother's urgent invitation to return to Marshfield._

_"We have no household stuff. Neither could I live in the terror of constant alarms and the din of war. Besides I know not how to look you in the face, unless I could restore to you your family Expositer, which together with my Henry on the Bible & Harveys Meditations which are your daughter's (the gift of her grandmother) I pack'd in a Trunk that exactly held them, some days before I made my escape, and did my utmost to git to you, but which I am told are still in Boston. It is not, nor ever will be in my power to make you Satisfaction for this Error--I should not have coveted to keep 'em so long--I am heartily sorry now that I had more than one book at a time; in that case I might have thot to have bro't it away with me, tho' I forgot my own Bible & almost every other necessary. But who can tell whether you may not git your Valuable Books. I should feel comparatively easy if you had these your Valuable property."_

_Her painful solicitude over the loss of a borrowed book is indeed refreshing, as well as her surprising covetousness of the Family Expositor and Harvey's Meditations. And I wish to add to the posthumous rehabilitation of the damaged credit of this conscientious aunt, that Anna's book--Harvey's Meditations--was recovered and restored to the owner, and was lost at sea in 1840 by another Winslow._

_Joshua Winslow, when exiled, went to England, and thence to Quebec, where he retained throughout his life his office as Royal Paymaster.

He was separated many years from his wife and daughter, and doubtless Anna died while her father was far from her; for in a letter dated Quebec, December 26, 1783, and written to his wife, he says,_

_"The Visiting Season is come on, a great practice here about Christmas and the New Year; on the return of which I congratulate my Dearest Anna and Friends with you, it being the fifth and I hope the last I shall be obliged to see the return of in a Separation from each other while we may continue upon the same Globe."_

_She shortly after joined him in Quebec. His letters show careful preparations for her comfort on the voyage. They then were childless; Anna's brothers, George Scott and John Henry, died in early youth. It is interesting to note that Joshua Winslow was the first of the Winslows to give his children more than one baptismal name._

_Joshua Winslow was a man of much dignity and of handsome person, if we can trust the Copley portrait and miniature of him which still exist. The portrait is owned by Mr. James F. Trott of Niagara Falls, New York, the miniature by Mrs. J. F. Lindsey of Yorkville, South Carolina, both grandchildren of General John Winslow. His letters display much intelligence. His spelling is unusually correct; his penmanship elegant--as was that of all the Winslows; his forms of expression scholarly and careful. He sometimes could joke a little, as when he began his letters to his wife Anna thus--2. N. A.--though it is possible that the "Obstructions to a free Correspondence, and the Circ.u.mspection we are obliged to practice in our Converse with each other" arising from his exiled condition, may have made him thus use a rebus in the address of his letter._

_He died in Quebec in 1801. His wife returned to New England and died in Medford in 1810. Her funeral was at General John Winslow's house on Purchase Street, Fort Hill, Boston; she was buried in the Winslow tomb in King's Chapel burial ground._

_We know little of the last years of Anna Green Winslow's life.

A journal written by her mother in 1773 during their life in Marshfield is now owned by Miss Sarah Thomas of Marshfield, Ma.s.s.

It is filled chiefly with pious sermon notes and religious thoughts, and sad and anxious reflections over absent loved ones, one of whom (in the sentimental fashion of the times) she calls "my Myron"--her husband._

_Through this journal we see "Nanny Green's" simple and monotonous daily life; her little tea-drinkings; her spinning and reeling and knitting; her frequent catechisings, her country walks. We find her mother's testimony to the "appearance of reason that is in my children and for the readiness with which they seem to learn what is taught them." And though she repeatedly thanks G.o.d for living in a warm house, she notes that "my bason of water froze on the hearth with as good a fire as we could make in the chimney." This rigor of climate and discomfort of residence, and Anna's evident delicacy shown through the records of her fainting, account for her failing health. The last definite glimpse which we have of our gentle little Nanny is in the shape of a letter written to her by "Aunt Deming."

It is dated Boston, April 21, 1779, and is so characteristic of the day and so amusing also that I quote it in full._

_Dear Neice_,

_I receivd your favor of 6th instant by nephew Jack, who with the Col. his trav'ling companion, perform'd an easy journey from you to us, and arriv'd before sunset. I thank you for the beads, the wire, and the beugles, I fancy I shall never execute the plan of the head dress to which you allude--if I should, some of your largest corn stalks, dril'd of the pith and painted might be more proportionable.

I rejoice that your cloths came off so much better than my fears--a troublesome journey, I expected you would have; and very much did I fear for your bones. I was always unhappy in antic.i.p.ating trouble--it is my const.i.tution, I believe--and when matters have been better than my fears--I have never been so dutifully thankful as my bountiful Benefactor had a right to expect. This, also, I believe, is the const.i.tution of all my fellow race._

_Mr. Deming had a Letter from your Papa yesterday; he mention'd your Mama & you as indispos'd & Flavia as sick in bed. I'm at too great a distance to render you the least service, and were I near, too much out of health to--some part of the time--even speak to you. I am seiz'd with exceeding weakness at the very seat of life, and to a greater degree than I ever before knew. Could I ride, it might help me, but that is an exercise my income will not permit. I walk out whenever I can. The day will surely come, when I must quit this frail tabernacle, and it may be soon--I certainly know, I am not of importance eno' in this world, for any one to wish my stay--rather am I, and so I consider myself as a c.u.mberground. However I shall abide my appointed time & I desire to be found waiting for my change._

_Our family are well--had I time and spirits I could acquaint you of an expedition two sisters made to Dorchester, a walk begun at sunrise last thursday morning--dress'd in their dammasks, padusoy, gauze, ribbins, flapets, flowers, new white hats, white shades, and black leather shoes, (Pudingtons make) and finished journey, & garments, orniments, and all quite finish'd on Sat.u.r.day, before noon, (mud over shoes) never did I behold such destruction in so short a s.p.a.ce--bottom of padusoy coat fring'd quite round, besides places worn entire to floss, & besides frays, dammask, from shoulders to bottom, not lightly soil'd, but as if every part had rub'd tables and chairs that had long been us'd to wax mingl'd with grease. I could have cry'd, for I really pitied 'em--nothing left fit to be seen--They had leave to go, but it never entered any ones tho'ts but their own to be dressd in all (even to loading) of their best--their all, as you know. What signifies it to worry ones selves about beings that are, and will be, just so? I can, and do pity and advise, but I shall git no credit by such like. The eldest talks much of learning dancing, musick (the spinet & guitar), embroidry, dresden, the French tongue &c &c. The younger with an air of her own, advis'd the elder when she first mention'd French, to learn first to read English, and was answered "law, so I can well eno'

a'ready." You've heard her do what she calls reading, I believe.

Poor creature! Well! we have a time of it!_

_If any one at Marshfield speaks of me remember me to them. n.o.body knows I'm writing, each being gone their different ways, & all from home except the little one who is above stairs. Farewell my dear, I've wrote eno' I find for this siting._

_Yr affect_

_Sarah Deming._

_It does not need great acuteness to read between the lines of this letter an affectionate desire to amuse a delicate girl whom the writer loved. The tradition in the Winslow family is that Anna Green Winslow died of consumption at Marshfield in the fall of 1779. There is no town or church record of her death, no known grave or headstone to mark her last resting-place. And to us she is not dead, but lives and speaks--always a loving, endearing little child; not so pa.s.sionate and gifted and rare a creature as that star among children--Marjorie Fleming--but a natural and homely little flower of New England life; fated never to grow old or feeble or dull or sad, but to live forever and laugh in the glamour of eternal happy youth through the few pages of her time-stained diary._

_Alice Morse Earle._

_Brooklyn Heights, September, 1894._