A REVOLUTIONARY HOUSEWIFE.
We do not need to make a composite picture of the housewife of
Revolutionary days, for a very distinct account has been preserved of
one in the quaint pages of the _Remembrancer_ or diary of Christopher
Marshall, a well-to-do Quaker of Philadelphia, who was one of the
Committee of Observation of that city during the Revolutionary War.
After many entries through the year 1778, which incidentally show the
many cares of his faithful wife, and her fulfilment of these cares, the
fortunate husband thus bursts forth in her praise:--
As I have in this memorandum taken scarcely any notice of my wife’s
employments, it might appear as if her engagements were very trifling;
the which is not the case but the reverse. And to do her justice
which her services deserved, by entering them minutely, would take
up most of my time, for this genuine reason, how that from early
in the morning till late at night she is constantly employed in the
affairs of the family, which for four months has been very large; for
besides the addition to our family in the house, it is a constant
resort of comers and goers which seldom go away with dry lips and
hungry bellies. This calls for her constant attendance, not only to
provide, but also to attend at getting prepared in the kitchen, baking
our bread and pies, meat &c. and also the table. Her cleanliness
about the house, her attendance in the orchard, cutting and drying
apples of which several bushels have been procured; add to which her
making of cider without tools, for the constant drink of the family,
her seeing all our washing done, and her fine clothes and my shirts,
the which are all smoothed by her; add to this, her making of twenty
large cheeses, and that from one cow, and daily using with milk and
cream, besides her sewing, knitting &c. Thus she looketh well to the
ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness; yea she
also stretcheth out her hand, and she reacheth forth her hand to her
needy friends and neighbors. I think she has not been above four times
since her residence here to visit her neighbors; nor through mercy has
she been sick for any time, but has at all times been ready in any
affliction to me or my family as a faithful nurse and attendant both
day and night.
Such laudatory references to the goodwife as these abound through the
_Remembrancer_.
My tender wife keeps busily engaged and looks upon every Philadelphian
who comes to us as a person suffering in a righteous cause; and
entitled to partake of her hospitality which she administers with her
labor and attendance with great freedom and alacrity....
My dear wife meets little respite all the day, the proverb being
verified, that Woman’s Work is never done.
I owe my health to the vigilance, industry and care of my wife who
really has been and is a blessing unto me. For the constant assiduity
and press of her daily and painful labor in the kitchen, the Great
Lord of the Household will reward her in due time.
It seems that so generous and noble a woman should have had a reward
in this world, as well as the next, for, besides her kitchen duties,
she was a “nonsuch gardner, working bravely in her garden,” and a first
class butter-maker, who constantly supplied her poor neighbors with
milk, and yet always had cream to spare for her dairy.
Far be it from me to cast even the slightest reflection, to express
the vaguest doubt, as to the industry, energy, and application of so
pious, so estimable an old gentleman as Mr. Marshall, but he was,
as he says, “easily tired”--“the little I do tires and fatigues
me”--“the grasshopper seems a burden.” So, even to our prosaic and
somewhat emancipated nineteenth century notions as to women’s rights
and their assumption of men’s duties, it does appear that so patient,
industrious, and overworked a consort might have been spared some of
the burdensome duties which devolved upon her, and which are popularly
supposed not to belong to the distaff side of the house. An elderly
milk-man might have occasionally milked the cow for that elderly weary
milkmaid. And it does seem just a little strange that a hearty old
fellow, who could eat gammons and drink punch at every occasion of
sober enjoyment and innocent revelry to which he was invited, should
let his aged spouse rise at daybreak and go to the wharves to buy loads
of wood from the bargemen; and also complacently record that the horse
would have died had not the ever-energetic wife gone out and by dint
of hard work and good management succeeded in buying in the barren city
a load of hay for provender. However, he never fails to do her justice
in commendatory words in the pages of his _Remembrancer_, thus proving
himself more thoughtful than that Yankee husband who said to a neighbor
that his wife was such a good worker and a good cook, and so pleasant
and kept everything so neat and nice around the house, that sometimes
it seemed as if he couldn’t help telling her so.
One of the important housewifely cares of Philadelphia women was their
marketing, and Madam Marshall was faithful in this duty also. We find
her attending market as early as four o’clock upon a winter’s morning.
In 1690, there were two market days weekly in Philadelphia, and nearly
all the early writers note the attendance thereat of the ladies
residing in the town. In 1744, these markets were held on Tuesday and
Friday. William Black, a travelling Virginian, wrote that year with
admiration of this custom:--
I got to the market by 7, and had no small Satisfaction in seeing the
pretty Creatures, the Young Ladies, traversing the place from Stall
to Stall where they could make the best Market, some with their maid
behind them with a Basket to carry home the Purchase, others that
were design’d to buy but trifles, as a little fresh Butter, a Dish of
Green Peas or the like, had Good Nature & Humility enough to be their
own Porters. I have so much regard for the fair Sex that I imagin’d
like the Woman of the Holy Writ some charm in touching even the Hem of
their Garments. After I made my Market, which was one pennyworth of
Whey and a Nosegay, I disengag’d myself.
It would appear also that a simple and appropriate garment was donned
for this homely occupation. We find Sarah Eve and others writing of
wearing a “market cloke.”
It is with a keen thrill of sympathy that we read of all the torment
that Mistress Marshall, that household saint, had to endure in the
domestic service rendered to her--or perhaps I should say through the
lack of service in her home. A special thorn in the flesh was one Poll,
a bound girl. On September 13, 1775, Mr. Marshall wrote:--
After my wife came from market (she went past 5) she ordered her girl
Poll to carry the basket with some necessaries to the place, as
she was coming after her, they intending to iron the clothes. Poll
accordingly went, set down the basket, came back, went and dressed
herself all clean, short calico gown, and said she was going to
school; but presently after the negro woman Dinah came to look for
her, her mistress having mistrusted she had a mind to play truant.
This was about nine, but madam took her walk, but where--she is not
come back to tell.
Sept. 16. I arose before six as I was much concern’d to see my wife so
afflicted as before on the bad conduct of her girl Poll who is not yet
returned, but is skulking and running about town. This I understand
was the practice of her mother who for many years before her death was
a constant plague to my wife, and who left her this girl as a legacy,
and who by report as well as by own knowledge, for almost three years
has always been so down to this time. About eight, word was brought
that Poll was just taken by Sister Lynn near the market, and brought
to their house. A messenger was immediately dispatched for her, as
she could not be found before, though a number of times they had been
hunting her.
As the years went on, Poll kept taking what he called “cruises,”
“driving strokes of impudence,” visiting friends, strolling around the
streets, faring up and down the country, and he patiently writes:--
This night our girl was brought home. I suppose she was hunted out, as
it is called, and found by Ruth on the Passyunk Road. Her mistress was
delighted upon her return, but I know of nobody else in house or out.
I have nothing to say in the affair, as I know of nothing that would
distress my wife so much as for me to refuse or forbid her being taken
into the house.
(A short time after) I arose by four as my wife had been up sometime
at work cleaning house, and as she could not rest on account of Polls
not being yet return’d. The girls frolics always afflict her mistress,
so that to me its plain if she does not mend, or her mistress grieve
less for her, that it will shorten Mrs Marshalls days considerably;
besides our house wears quite a different face when Miss Poll is in it
(although all the good she does is not worth half the salt she eats.)
As her presence gives pleasure to her mistress, this gives joy to all
the house, so that in fact she is the cause of peace or uneasiness in
the home.
It is with a feeling of malicious satisfaction that we read at last of
the jaded, harassed, and conscientious wife going away for a visit,
and know that the man of the house will have to encounter and adjust
domestic problems as best he may. No sooner had the mistress gone than
Poll promptly departed also on a vacation. As scores of times before,
Mr. Marshall searched for her, and retrieved her (when she was ready to
come), and she behaved exceeding well for a day, only, when rested, to
again make a flitting. He writes on the 23d:--
I roused Charles up at daylight. Found Miss Poll in the straw house.
She came into the kitchen and talked away that she could not go out
at night but she must be locked out. If that’s the case she told them
she would pack up her clothes and go quite away; that she would not
be so served as her Mistress did not hinder her staying out when she
pleased, and the kitchen door to be opened for her when she came home
and knocked. The negro woman told me as well as she could what she
said. I then went and picked up her clothes that I could find. I asked
her how she could behave so to me when I had conducted myself so easy
towards her even so as to suffer her to sit at table and eat with me.
This had no effect upon her. She rather inclined to think that she
had not offended and had done nothing but what her mistress indulged
her in. I told her before Betty that it was not worth my while to
lick her though she really deserved it for her present impudence; but
to remember I had taken all her clothes I could find except what she
had on, which I intended to keep; that if she went away Charles with
the horse should follow her and bring her back and that I would send
a bellman around the borough of Lancaster to cry her as a runaway
servant, wicked girl, with a reward for apprehending her.
The fatuous simplicity of Quaker Marshall’s reproofs, the futility of
his threats, the absurd failure of his masculine methods, received
immediate illustration--as might be expected, by Miss Poll promptly
running away that very night. Again he writes:--
Charles arose near daybreak and I soon after, in order to try to find
my nightly and daily plague, as she took a walk again last night.
Charles found her. We turned her upstairs to refresh herself with
sleep....
(Two days later) After breakfast let our Poll downstairs where she has
been kept since her last frolic. Fastened her up again at night. I
think my old enemy Satan is much concerned in the conduct and behavior
of that unfortunate girl. He knows her actions give me much anxiety
and indeed at times raise my anger so I have said what should have
been avoided, but I hope for the future to be more upon my guard and
thus frustrate him in his attempts.
With what joy did the masculine housekeeper and steward greet the
return of his capable wife, and resign his position as turnkey! Poll,
upon liberation from restraint, flew swiftly away like any other bird
from its cage.
Notwithstanding such heavy weather overhead and exceeding dirty under
foot our Poll after breakfast went to see the soldiers that came
as prisoners belonging to Burgoynes army. Our trull returned this
morning. Her mistress gave her a good sound whipping. This latter was
a variety.
And so the unequal fight went on; Poll calmly breaking down a
portion of the fence that she might decamp more promptly, and return
unheralded. She does not seem to have been vicious, but simply
triumphantly lawless and fond of gadding. I cannot always blame her.
I am sure I should have wanted to go to see the soldier-prisoners of
Burgoyne’s army brought into town. The last glimpse of her we have is
with “her head dressed in tiptop fashion,” rolling off in a coach to
Yorktown with Sam Morris’s son, and not even saying good-by to her
vanquished master.
Mr. Marshall was not the only Philadelphian to be thus afflicted; we
find one of his neighbors, Jacob Hiltzheimer, dealing a more summary
way with a refractory maid-servant. Shortly after noting in the pages
of his diary that “our maid Rosina was impertinent to her mistress,”
we find this good citizen taking the saucy young redemptioner before
the squire, who summarily ordered her to the workhouse. After remaining
a month in that confinement, Rosina boldly answered no, when asked if
she would go back to her master and behave as she ought, and she was
promptly remanded. But she soon repented, and was released. Her master
paid for her board and lodging while under detention, and quickly sold
her for £20 for her remaining term of service.
With the flight of the Marshalls’ sorry Poll, the sorrows and
trials of this good Quaker household with regard to what Raleigh
calls “domesticals” were not at an end. As the “creatures” and the
orchard and garden needed such constant attention, a man-servant was
engaged--one Antony--a character worthy of Shakespeare’s comedies. Soon
we find the master writing:--
I arose past seven and had our gentleman to call down stairs. I spoke
to him about his not serving the cows. He at once began about his way
being all right, &c. I set about serving our family and let him, as in
common, do as he pleases. I think I have hired a plague to my spirit.
Yet he is still the same Antony--he says--complaisant, careful,
cheerful, industrious.
Then Antony grew noisy and talkative, so abusive at last that he had to
be put out in the yard, where he railed and talked till midnight, to
the annoyance of the neighbors and the mortification of his mistress;
for he protested incessantly and noisily that all he wished was to
leave in peace and quiet, which he was not permitted to do. Then,
and repeatedly, his master told him to leave, but the servant had
no other home, and might starve in the war-desolated town; so after
half-promises he was allowed by these tender folk to stay on. Soon he
had another “tantrum,” and the astounded Quaker writes:--
He rages terribly uttering the most out of the way wicked expressions
yet not down-right swearing. Mamma says it is cursing in the Popish
way....
What this Popish swearing could have been arouses my curiosity; I
suspect it was a kind of “dog-latin.” Antony constantly indulged in it,
to the horror and sorrow of the pious Marshalls. And the amusing, the
fairly comic side of all this is that Antony was a preacher, a prophet
in the land, and constantly held forth in meeting to sinners around
him. We read of him:--
Antony went to Quakers meeting today where he preached; although he
was requested to desist, so that by consent they broke up the meeting
sooner than they would have done....
Mamma went to meeting where Antony spoke and was forbid. He appeared
to be most consummately bold and ignorant in his speaking there. And
about the house I am obliged in a stern manner at times to order him
not to say one word more....
This afternoon Antony preached at the English Presbyterian meeting. It
is said that the hearers laughed at him but he was highly pleased with
himself.
Antony preached at meeting. I kept engaged helping to cook the pot
against master came home. He comes and goes as he pleases.
I don’t know when to pity poor Dame Marshall the most, with Antony
railing in the yard and disturbing the peace of the neighbors; or
Antony cursing in a Popish manner through the house; or Antony shamming
sick and moaning by the fireside; or Antony violently preaching when
she had gone to the quiet Quaker meeting for an hour of peace and rest.
This “runnagate rascal” was as elusive, as tricky, as malicious as a
gnome; whenever he was reproved, he always contrived to invent a new
method of annoyance in revenge. When chidden for not feeding the horse,
he at once stripped the leaves off the growing cabbages, cut off the
carrot heads, and pulled up the potatoes, and pretended and protested
he did it all solely to benefit them, and thus do good to his master.
When asked to milk the cow, he promptly left the Marshall domicile for
a whole day.
Sent Antony in the orchard to watch the boys. As I was doubtful
sometime whether if any came for apples Antony would prevent, I took
a walk to the back fence, made a noise by pounding as if I would
break the fence, with other noise. This convinced me Antony sat in
his chair. He took no notice till my wife and old Rachel came to him,
roused him, and scolded him for his neglect. His answer was that he
thought it his duty to be still and not disturb them, as by so doing
he should have peace in heaven and a blessing would ever attend him.
This was certainly the most sanctimonious excuse for laziness that
was ever invented; and on the following day Antony supplemented his
tergiversation by giving away all Mr. Marshall’s ripe apples through
the fence to passers-by--neighbors, boys, soldiers, and prisoners.
There may have been method in this orchard madness, for Antony loathed
apple-pie, a frequent comestible in the Marshall domicile, and often
refused to drink cider, and grumbling made toast-tea instead. In a
triumph of euphuistic indignation, Mr. Marshall thus records the
dietetic vagaries of the “most lazy impertinent talking lying fellow
any family was ever troubled with:”
When we have no fresh broth he wants some; when we have it he cant sup
it. When we have lean of bacon he wants the fat; when the fat he cant
eat it without spreading salt over it as without it its too heavy for
his stomach. If new milk he cant eat it till its sour, it curdles on
his stomach; when sour or bonnyclabber it gives him the stomach-ache.
Give him tea he doesn’t like such slop, its not fit for working men;
if he hasn’t it when he asks for it he’s not well used. Give him apple
pie above once for some days, its not suitable for him it makes him
sick. If the negro woman makes his bed, she dont make it right; if she
dont make it she’s a lazy black jade, &c.
In revenge upon the negro woman Dinah for not making his bed to suit
his notion, he pretended to have had a dream about her, which he
interpreted to such telling effect that she thought Satan was on his
swift way to secure her, and fled the house in superstitious fright,
in petticoat and shift, and was captured three miles out of town. On
her return, Antony outdid himself with “all the vile ribaldry, papist
swearing, incoherent scurrilous language, that imperious pride, vanity,
and folly could invent or express”--and then went off to meeting to
preach and pray. Well might the Quaker say with Juvenal, “The tongue
is the worst part of a bad servant.” At last, exasperated beyond
measure, his patient master vowed, “Antony, I will give thee a good
whipping,” and he could do it, for he had “pacified himself with sundry
stripes of the cowskin” on Dinah, the negro, when she, in emulation of
Antony, was impertinent to her mistress.
The threat of a whipping brought on Antony a “fit of stillness” which
descended like a blessing on the exhausted house. But “the devil is
sooner raised than laid;” anon Antony was in his old lunes again, and
the peace was broken by a fresh outburst of laziness, indifference, and
abuse, in which we must leave this afflicted household, for at that
date the _Remembrancer_ abruptly closes.
The only truly good service rendered to those much tried souls was by
a negro woman, Dinah, who, too good for this earth, died; and in her
death involved them in fresh trouble, for in that war-swept town they
could scarce procure her burial.