and he went off to Boston to remain till her temper cooled. She repented
of her cruel treatment, and published the following advertisement in the
Boston _Evening Post_, July 25, 1743, from which I copied it in the
Boston Public Library. It shows conclusively that Summersworth was
Master Sullivan’s home in 1743:
ADVERTISEMENT.
MY DEAR AND LOVING HUSBAND:
Your abrupt departure from me, and forsaking of me your wife and
tender babes, which I now humbly acknowledge and confess, I was
greatly if not wholly the cause by my too rash and unadvised speech
and behaviour towards you; for which I now in this public manner
humbly ask your forgiveness, and hereby promise upon your return to
amend and reform and by my future loving and obedient carriage
toward you, endeavor to make an atonement for my past evil deeds,
and manifest to you and to the whole world, that I can become a new
woman, and will prove to you a loving, dutiful and tender wife.
If you do not regard what I have above written, I pray you harken to
what your pupil, Joshua Gilpatrick, hath below sent you, as also the
lamentations and cries of your poor children, especially the eldest
(Benjamin) who though but seven years old, all rational people
really conclude that unless you speedily return will end in his
death; and the moans of your other children (Daniel and John) are
enough to affect any human heart.
And why, my dear husband, should a few angry and unkind words from
an angry and foolish wife [for which I am now paying full dear,
having neither eat, drank nor slept in quiet, and am already reduced
almost to a skeleton, that unless you favor me with your company
will bereave me of my life] make you thus forsake me and your
children? How can you thus, for so slender a cause as a few rash
words from a simple and weak woman, cause you to part from your
tender babes, who are your own flesh and blood? Pray meditate on
what I now send and reprieve your poor wife and eldest son, who take
your departure so heavily, from a lingering though certain death, by
your coming home to them again, as speedily as you can, where you
shall be kindly received, and in a most submissive manner by your
wife who is ready at your desire to lay herself at your feet for her
past miscarriage, and am with my and your children’s kind love to
you, your loving wife.
MARGERY SULLIVAN.
SUMMERSWORTH, NEW HAMPSHIRE, July 11, 1743.
The Hon. Thomas Wallingford, who resided in Summersworth and lived near
Master Sullivan, was captain of the company of militia in that parish in
1746, and probably several years before. The late Rev. Dr. A. H. Quint
had the muster roll of this company, and I presume his widow now has it.
Dr. Quint published it in his _Historical Memoranda_, and it can be
found on page 377 of the book of this memoranda that I recently
published. In this list of soldiers appears Master Sullivan’s name,
although the clerk of the company spells it “John Sullevant.” Of course
he was an old resident there, or he would not have been enrolled as a
soldier.
Another witness, and I leave this part of my subject. Mr. Michael Reade
of Dover was born in the same year as General Sullivan and lived to be
more than eighty years old. He went to school to Master Sullivan and
knew him and the boys well, hence, of course, knew where they lived.
This Michael Reade’s son Michael was born in 1773, and lived to be more
than eighty years old. He knew Master Sullivan, saw him many times, and
his father told him much about the old master; among other things, that
he lived in Summersworth many years before he removed to Berwick and
united farming with school teaching. The younger Michael Reade was
living when Dr. Quint wrote much of his _Historical Memoranda_, and
furnished the doctor many facts about many topics, and one was that his
father always said General Sullivan and his brothers were born in
Summersworth.
I will give a brief summary of the points: May 20, 1723, the town of
Dover voted to hire him to teach school one year and give him £30. Jan.
10, 1737, he wrote and witnessed a deed, Tebbets to Tebbets, and signed
as of Summersworth. Dec. 13, 1737, the parish of Summersworth voted to
hire him to keep school one year, and also sweep the meeting-house. The
_New Hampshire Gazette_ says he lived in Summersworth when his son John
was born in 1740. His wife Margery says their home was in Summersworth
when she advertised for him to come home in 1743. Capt. Thomas
Wallingford says he was a citizen of Summersworth in 1746. And last, but
not least, Michael Reade told Dr. Quint the boys were all born in
Summersworth.
On the other hand, there is nothing in the Berwick records, parish or
town, which even mentions Master Sullivan before 1753. Aug. 12 of that
year he bought his farm in Berwick of Samuel Lord; and after that his
name frequently appears.
Master Sullivan and his wife Margery were a remarkable couple. They are
two of the interesting characters in Sarah Orne Jewett’s story, _The
Tory Lover_, recently published, which, of course, you have all read, or
will read.
Master Sullivan was born in Limerick, Ireland, in 1691, during the siege
of the city by King William’s forces. His wife, Margery Browne, was born
in Cork, Ireland, in 1714. In 1723 they both set sail from Limerick in
the same ship for New England. The captain intended to land at
Newburyport, but owing to stress of weather he was compelled to land at
York Harbor, Me. In his old age, when he and his wife were calling at a
neighbor’s, they got to talking about his younger days, and he told the
following story, which was recorded by the person who heard it. Master
Sullivan said, in the presence of his wife:
I sailed from Limerick, Ireland, for New England in 1723; owing to
stress of weather the vessel was obliged to land at York, Maine. On
the voyage my attention was called to a pretty girl of nine or ten
years, Margery Browne, who afterwards became my wife. As my mother
had absolutely refused to furnish me the means for paying
transportation, and I had not means otherwise, I was obliged to
enter into an agreement with the captain to earn the money for my
passage.
After I landed at York, for a while I lived on the McIntire farm in
Scotland parish. Unaccustomed to farm labor, and growing weary of
manual occupation, I applied to Rev. Dr. Moody, pastor of the
parish, for assistance. I made my application in a letter written in
seven languages, so that he might see I was a scholar. He became
interested in my behalf, and being conversant with my ability to
teach he loaned me the money with which to pay the captain the
amount I owed for my passage. Thus set free from the McIntires, I
was assisted to open a school and earn money to repay Dr. Moody.
Later in life, when he was past fourscore years old, he made another
statement in regard to himself, at the request of his daughter-in-law,
wife of General Sullivan. He wrote it with his own hand and gave it to
the general’s wife. She gave it to her daughter, wife of Judge Steele;
from Mrs. Steele it passed to her son and grandson; by the latter it was
given to Thomas Coffin Amory, who published it in his biography of Gov.
James Sullivan. It is as follows:
I am the son of Major Philip O’Sullivan of Ardea, in county of
Kerry, Ireland. His father was Owen O’Sullivan, original descendant
from the second son of Daniel O’Sullivan, called lord of Bearehaven.
His father married Mary, daughter of Col. Owen McSweeney of Musgrey,
and sister of Capt. Edmund McSweeney, a man noted for his anecdotes
and witty sayings.
I have heard that my grandfather had four countesses for his mother
and grandmothers. How true this is, or who they were, I know not. My
father died of an ulcer raised in his breast, occasioned by a wound
he received in France in a duel with a French officer. My ancestors
were short lived; they either died in their bloom or went out of the
country. I never heard that any of the mankind arrived at sixty, and
I do not remember but one alive when I left home.
My mother’s name was Joan McCarthy, daughter of Dermod McCarthy of
Killoween. She had three brothers and one sister. Her mother’s name
I forget, but she was daughter of McCarthy Reagh of Carbery. Her
oldest brother, Col. Florence, alias McFinnen, and his two brothers,
Capt. Charles and Capt. Owen, went in defense of the nation against
Orange. Owen was killed in a battle at Aughrim. Florence had a son,
who retains the title of McFinnen. I can just remember Charles. He
had a charge in his face at the siege of Cork. He left two sons,
Derby[12] and Owen. Derby married with Ellena O’Sullivan of the
Sullivans of Banane. His brother married Honora Mahoney of Dromore.
My mother’s sister was married to Dermod, eldest son of Daniel
O’Sullivan, lord of Dunkerron. Her son Cornelius, as I understand,
was with the Pretender (Charles Edward) in Scotland in 1745.
This is all that I can say about my origin, but shall conclude with
a Latin sentence:
Si Adam sit pater cunctorum, mater et Eva;
Cur non sunt homines nobilitate pares?
Non pater aut mater dant nobis nobilitatem,
Sed moribus et vita nobilitatur homo.
J. S.
All this condensed into a paragraph is that in Master Sullivan’s veins
flowed the blood of the Norman Butlers and Fitzgeralds who went over
from England to Ireland, when the Irish were first conquered by the
English, and in time they became more Irish than the original race; that
is, they fought the English government more fiercely than the Irish
themselves did. Master Sullivan’s sons won in America what many
generations of their brave ancestors had failed to win in Ireland.
As has already been stated, Master Sullivan was born in Limerick during
the siege in 1691. Limerick, however, was not captured; a truce took
place, and a treaty was formed. This treaty did not last long, and a
large number of Irish were compelled to take refuge in France. Among
these were Maj. Philip O’Sullivan and his family.
This family remained in France several years. Major Sullivan died there,
as has been stated; his wife and children remained till peace reigned in
Ireland to the extent that she was allowed to return and take possession
of her large estates. While in France she carefully educated her son
John, and, unwittingly, prepared him to be the future schoolmaster of
New Hampshire. It was there that Master Sullivan learned his French so
thoroughly that when he was past ninety years of age he wrote a letter
in excellent French to his son, the general.
When his mother returned to Ireland her son was a young man, and I
suppose passed his time as other young Irishmen did who were in the
front rank of society in the city of Limerick. At length a difference of
opinion arose between Madam O’Sullivan and her son; he fell in love with
a young woman, who probably could not tell who her grandmother was. This
displeased his mother very much. Madam was very haughty and
aristocratic; she was proud of her ancestry and of her son’s ancestry.
She could not endure the thought of his marrying a girl of low ancestry;
she opposed the match.
I suppose that made Master Sullivan’s love burn more fiercely. After the
affair had drifted along quite a while Madam forbid her son,
peremptorily, to have anything more to do with the girl, and gave him
two weeks in which to break the engagement; if he did not do it inside
of that time, she would disinherit him. Per contra, Master Sullivan told
his mother he would give _her_ two weeks in which to consent to the
marriage; if she did not consent inside of that time, he would leave
Ireland forever, and neither she or the girl should ever hear more of
him. They were both of the same grit; neither would yield, and the
result was he sailed for America and in due time landed in York, Me. But
the thought of that girl he had left behind him in Ireland haunted him
for many years, and it was not till he was forty-four years old that he
again entertained the thought of marriage. His mother afterwards
repented of her stern act and made search for years for her runaway son,
but she never found any trace of him.
Hamlet says in the great drama that bears his name:
“Rashly,
And praised be rashness for it, let us know
Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,
When our deep plots do pall; and that should teach us
There’s a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough hew them how we will.”
Suppose Master Sullivan had obeyed his mother’s wishes and remained in
Ireland, or suppose Providence had not concealed him from his mother’s
search after she repented of her rash act, and he had been found and
induced to return to Ireland, what a difference there would have been in
the management of affairs and the history of New Hampshire.
Margery Browne was born in Cork, Ireland, in 1714; she died in Berwick,
Me., in 1801. Nothing is known of her ancestry, but the name is
essentially English, hence we may conclude that her parents, or their
ancestors, crossed over from England and settled in Ireland. She came to
this country in the same ship with Master Sullivan; she was nine years
old and he was thirty-two; they never had met before boarding the ship.
Why a girl of nine years should start on such a voyage alone is a
mystery that will never be solved.
Her parents may have started with her and died on the way, or she may
have taken a freak and stowed herself away among the freight and kept
concealed till the ship was well at sea. Whatever may have been the
cause of departure, she had no money to pay her passage, so the captain
had to sell her service at auction in Portsmouth to get his pay. The
tradition is that she was so young and so small that nobody would bid
for her services. At last Master Sullivan consented to raise the sum the
captain wanted for her passage. It is said that he finally paid it in
shingles, which he cut himself in the forest and carried to Portsmouth
in a boat.
It is not known where she spent the twelve years from 1723 to 1735, but
probably in York, as a house girl on some farm. Master Sullivan does not
appear to have taken any interest in her till a short time previous to
their marriage, when he heard that the young men of York were falling in
love with her and one had gone so far as to propose. He went over from
Somersworth to York to see about it. He found a keen-witted, handsome
and attractive young woman; the thought of the girl he had left in
Ireland twelve years ago began to fade from his mind. She was equally
impressed with his fine appearance; the result was she told the other
young men they need not call any more. Master Sullivan and Margery
Browne were married soon after.
She is described by those who saw her in the prime of womanhood as short
of stature, beautiful in form, face and manners. She was a great worker,
quick tempered, and quick to repent of what she did wrong in her
madness. Her tongue was equal to her temper. If tradition can be relied
on, she could have given Xantippe several points to start with and then
have won easily in a scolding match, although Socrates’ wife has the
standard reputation of being the greatest scold the human race has yet
produced. Margery Sullivan did not scold all the time; it happened
occasionally, like volcanic eruption, when she could not hold in any
longer.
Governor Samuel Wells of Maine wrote to a friend as follows about his
great-grandmother:
Master Sullivan’s wife was as well known as he was, and when
reference was made to her distinguished sons _she_ was more
frequently alluded to. She has been uniformly represented as a woman
of considerable native strength of mind, yet entirely uncultivated,
having the strong passions common to her country women, of which
some are good and some are bad, wholly unsubdued by habit. These
marked traits of character show a wider contrast between her and her
two distinguished sons than between them and their father, and
furnish a theme for remark, with anecdotes not a few, brought up
whenever allusion was made to the family. That she was a masculine,
energetic woman, with the resolution of a man, there is no doubt.
That she performed out-door labor in the field, suitable only to
men, in order that her husband might not be diverted from his
occupation of teaching, was recently told me as coming from herself,
in the presence of my informant, one of the few who now (1855)
survive to remember her.
Attorney-General John Sullivan of Exeter gave the following description
of his great-grandfather, Master Sullivan. He says:
I have been told he was a tall, spare man, very mild and gentle,
thoughtful and studious, an excellent scholar, but averse to bodily
exercise. He was exclusively a teacher.
An aged lady, who remembered seeing him when he was more than a
century old, told me her recollection of him, as she saw him at his
house one day, was that of a tall, venerable old man in a dressing
gown, seated at a table reading a Bible; he wore his hair long on
his shoulders.
From what his great-grandson says, and from what I gather from other
sources, I draw the conclusion that Master Sullivan was a tall,
fine-looking man, who had a lofty and fine spirit. He had an excellent
education in his youth, which he enlarged and improved in his later
years, making him one of the best scholars in New England in the
eighteenth century. He evidently was not satisfied with his lot in life,
but never complained. The magnificent success of his sons was the source
of great pleasure to him in his old age. He probably was the teacher of
more men who took a distinguished part in the Revolution than any other
one teacher in New England, and in that way he exercised a powerful
influence in shaping the turn of events in that great contest.
Master Sullivan died the first of June, 1796, aged 105 years; his
remains were interred in a field on the hillside, about 50 rods from
where his house stood in Berwick. His wife died in 1801, and was
interred at the same spot. Soon after his death, Gov. James Sullivan had
a stone, with suitable inscription, erected there; some years later
their great-grandson, Governor Wells of Maine, had the spot enclosed
with a substantial iron fence. Thus it remained till October, 1877, when
Mr. Ricker, the present owner of the land, got permission to remove the
remains to the Sullivan cemetery in Durham, as he wanted to run a new
street through his land directly over the grave.
The head of the old grave is now marked by a cherry tree, which stands
by the sidewalk. When Mr. Ricker and Mr. Stillings, who lives near
there, opened the grave, they found the skull perfect, also the hair and
some of the large bones of Master Sullivan; over the forehead a root of
the cherry tree had grown so that it half encircled the skull, and had
to be cut before the bones could be removed. The skull was very large,
with a high forehead, and the hair was long and perfect, being a dark
brown mixed with slight sprinkle of gray. The remains had been interred
there 81 years.
When Master Sullivan died, some one, presumably his pastor, Rev. Matthew
Merriam, wrote an obituary of him, which was published in a Portsmouth
paper, _The Oracle of the Day_. His death occurred on Saturday, June 3,
1796, and the article is in the publication of the week following.
The article is quite long, hence I will give only the substance of it
here. The writer says he was extraordinary in his acquirements as a
student, his brilliancy of mind, his power as a teacher, and in his
influence over the community in which he lived. He taught school till he
was 90 years old and then retired, lamenting he could no longer be
useful to his fellow-men. He still continued his studies, reading his
Bible, his Homer, and his Horace with as keen a relish as he did a half
century before. He wrote a good hand till he was 102 years old; he
continued his reading till he was 104, when his eyesight failed, but his
mental powers remained perfect till seven days before his death, when
his speech failed, but he seemed to understand what was said to him till
the last hour; when he closed his eyes as in sleep, and his noble soul
took its flight.
His health had been remarkably good throughout his long life of more
than a century; he was a stranger to pain till a few months before
death, when he became subject to cramps and nervous troubles which
caused him great distress.
He was active in out-of-door exercise after he had passed the century
mark; he would yoke and unyoke his oxen, drive them to the blacksmith
shop and get them shod, and work them about the farm; he was able to cut
wood for his household fires, and do _chores_ of various sort.
Thus Master Sullivan appeared to his pastor, who had known him for forty
years and more. Thus I deposit in the archives of the New Hampshire
Historical Society my pen picture of New Hampshire’s grandest old
schoolmaster.
MARTIN MURPHY, SR., AN IRISH PIONEER OF CALIFORNIA.[13]
BY MISS MARCELLA A. FITZGERALD.
Pioneer! name that like a Conjurer summons
All the past before our eyes,
Toils, struggles, want and hardships,
Perils, dangers, sacrifice.
—_Annie Fitzgerald._
Martin Murphy, Sr., is held in loving reverence as an early pioneer of
California. A native of Ireland, nurtured on Wexford’s historic soil, he
imbibed a love for his native land which was as the breath of his life.
Her joys, her sorrows, her glories, were his.
In his boyhood he witnessed the gallant struggle of “’98,” when kindred
and friends perished in the vain effort to cast off the English yoke,
and beheld the cruel persecution and bloodshed that followed the
suppression of the Rebellion, scenes which left their impression
indelibly impressed upon his heart. No distance could alienate him from,
no pleasure cause him to forget, the “Niobe of Nations.”
Years afterwards, when a dweller on the Pacific Coast, at a time when
intercourse with the outer world was difficult, and mails scarce more
than semi-annual, a tourist who shared the hospitality of his home wrote
thus:
Eager to hear news of Ireland, he listened as I told him the sad story
of famine and death which had desolated his native land; tear-dimmed
eyes and quivering lips told his deep emotion. When I ceased, the
venerable patriarch bowed his head, murmuring, “O my unhappy Country!
will your suffering and sorrow never end.”
But if he loved Ireland much, he loved freedom with the devotion of his
race, and longed for a clime where right, not might, held sway. The
Canadian colonies offered an opportunity to settlers of obtaining homes
by purchase, homes free from the tyranny of a landlord’s whim, and
thither Mr. Murphy resolved to emigrate. Disposing of his leasehold,
whose tenure extended for the term of his life, he embarked for the New
World, reaching Quebec in 1820.
He purchased land in the township of Frampton, 30 miles from the quaint
old city which has since given its name to the province. “It was the
forest primeval,” but he bravely set to work at the labor incidental to
the building up of a home in the northern wilderness, the clearing of
the land of its dense growth of timber before the plow could penetrate
its rich virgin soil.
The long, cold winters with their mountainous snowdrifts and cutting
blasts, and the countless inconveniences of frontier life to which he
and his gentle wife were so unaccustomed, were borne with cheerful
Christian patience. Soon many of his old friends and neighbors joined
him, and a thriving Irish settlement grew up around him. His home was
the center to which all new comers self-exiled from Erin turned while
seeking a haven for themselves. There they found the whole-souled
welcome of truly hospitable hearts, and kindly care when overtaken by
sickness.
Prior to the erection of a church and the formation of a parish, zealous
priests at his request visited the settlement to celebrate Mass,
administer the sacraments and instruct the children, thus keeping aglow
the light of Faith in the hearts of the exiles.
But the desire for more perfect freedom remained in Mr. Murphy’s heart,
and although past the golden milestone of life he prepared to seek a new
country. In 1840 he bade farewell to his friends, and taking with him
his wife and his unmarried children, set out upon his westward journey
to Missouri. He made his home in Holt County, then known as the Platte
Purchase, since divided into Holt and Atchison counties.