Considered to be one of the worst massacres of colonial times, The Candlemas Massacre, also known as the Raid on York, took place on 24 January 1692 during King William’s War. 325 years ago, in the early morning hours, 200-300 Abenaki Indians led by Chief Madockawando and the Catholic missionary Father Louis-Pierre Thury, raided and burned the settlement of York, Maine. By most accounts the majority of the houses were burned to the ground, leaving only four garrisons standing. Fifty to eighty residents were murdered and approximately another hundred were forced to march to Canada, on foot, a trek of over 300 miles. Many died along the way.
A number of my ancestors and relatives were among the dead or captured. My 9x great grandfather, Nathaniel Preble and 9x great grand uncle, John Preble were listed among the dead.
Taken captive were Mrs. Priscilla Preble (wife of Nathaniel), my 9x great grandmother, Obadiah and Benjamin Preble, both 8x great grand uncles, Mrs. Mary (Rishworth)(Sayward) Plaisted, my 9x great grandmother and two 8x great grand aunts, Mary and Esther Sayward.
Mrs. Priscilla Preble, now a widow, was redeemed from Canada in 1695, when she returned to York and married Joseph Carroll. No further record of her sons Obadiah and Benjamin have been found.
Warning: Graphic content ahead
Cotton Mather in his Magnalia Christi Americana or the Ecclesiastical History of New England, Volume II Book VII, “Decennium Lucuossum, or a History of Remarkable Occurances, in the War which New-England had with Indian Salvages [sic], from the year 1688 to the year 1698” wrote about the massacre:
“Mary Plaisted, the wife of Mr. James Plaisted, was made a captive by the Indians about three weeks after her delivery of a male child. They then took her, with her infant, off her bed, and forced her to travel in this her weakness the best part of a day, without any respect of pity. At night the cold ground in the open air was her lodging; and for many a day she had no nourishment, but a little water with a little bears-flesh; which rendred her so feeble, that she with her infant were not far from totally starved. Upon her cries to God, there was at length some supply sent in by her master’s taking a Moose, the broth whereof recovered her. But she must now travel many days thro’ woods, and swamps, and rocks, and over mountains, and frost and snow, until she could stir no farther. Sitting down to rest, she was not able to rise, until her diabolical master helped her up; which when he did, he took her child from her, and carried it unto a river, where, stripping it of the few rags it had, he took it by the heels, and against a tree dashed out his brains, and then flung it into the river. So he returned unto the miserable mother, telling her, “she was now eased of her burden, and must walk faster than she did before.”
Mary was taken to Montréal where she was baptized in the Catholic church. Her signature appears in the Baptismal Register. She was ransomed by Matthew Cary and returned home more than 3 years later in October 1695. Her daughters, Mary and Esther, did not return from Canada. Mary was placed in a Catholic Nunnery and resided at the Congregation Notre Dame and was known as “Sister des Anges.” She died in 1717 and was buried in Montreal. Esther remained in Canada, was naturalized in 1710 and in 1712 married Sieur Pierre de Lestage.
Years ago I ordered my grandfather’s World War I naval record from the National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis. I doubted that there would be much of interest except for perhaps a medical record and his rank and duties during the war (much of which I already knew). I was SO wrong. Right in the middle of the 50 page document were three progressively nasty letters from his soon to be ex-wife and a drama that unfolded page by page. The first was dated February 11, 1918 complaining that he had left her and had not given her any support since December of 1917.
On March 1st she sent another letter to the Secretary of War reporting that she had flags that her husband had taken off of one of the ships that he worked on and that he had come to retrieve them and she didn’t give them to him. [When the US entered the war in 1917 several German ocean liners were caught on this side of the Atlantic, commandeered and refitted as troop transport ships. My grandfather worked as an electrician to refit these German ships.] She said he threatened to make trouble for her and that he “forbid the Navy Department to give me my money.”
On March 4th she wrote another letter in response to the Navy’s letter requesting more information so that they could identify her husband, again asking what she should do with the German flags that he had taken off the “Aughtenfelt [Ockenfels] – the first boat he worked on.” She also mentions that he also took a “coniator [?] and a Broneator [perhaps brominator?].” It appears that she was slyly trying to make trouble for him.
By March 22nd the Navy had found my grandfather among the ranks of the ship USS America and sent a letter to him through his commander.
My grandfather’s reply (clearly written by a lawyer) was priceless.
And it was accompanied by a character reference from the local Deputy Sheriff.
The Navy, in their infinite wisdom, washed their hands of the matter.
Two morals to the story:
1. Run, don’t walk, to get your ancestor’s military record.
2. Don’t commit adultery.
My 8x great-grandfather was Henry Willard. He was the son of Simon Willard who emigrated from Horsmonden, Kent County, England. Born in Concord, Massachusetts in 1655, Henry built this home at Still River (Harvard), Massachusetts in 1687. The house still stands at 259 Still River Road, which is Route 110, in Still River, which is part of Harvard, Massachusetts.
This photo is taken from the book from the book “Heroic Willards of ’76; life and times of Captain Reuben Willard of Fitchburg, Mass., and his lineal descendants, from 1775 to date; profusely embellished with authentic portraits not heretofore available; register of Willards in the revolution, and other wars, chronology of the George Willards” by Phelps, James Andrew, b. 1835
My surprise in finding this photo? I grew up in Harvard, Massachusetts. How many times did I pass this house not knowing that it was built by my 8x great-grandfather?
My 8x great grandfather owned slaves. It is not something I am happy about, but it is a fact that I cannot change.
Some facts about him:
He arrived along the New England coast in the mid 1670’s, originally from England, coming by way of Newfoundland. As part of the fishing industry he ended up in Kittery (Maine) and there amassed a small fortune along with his son, Sir William Pepperrell, building a fishing and merchant fleet of 17 or 18 ships. His ships sailed all over the world carrying timber, fish, salt, sugar and rum.
He was Colonel William Pepperrell. He served as a Colonel in the militia during the Indian Wars. His home served as a Garrison House during those wars. It still stands today at the corner of Pepperrell Road and Bellamy Lane in Kittery. (The original house is on the right, the addition was added later.)
When I found his will I was shocked and saddened to find three slaves. (He referred to them as “servants.”)
- “I also give to my said Daughter Dorathy Watkins her Heirs & Assigns my Negro Man servant Named George . . .And I do hereby order that if the said negro Servant do faithfully & truly Serve untill he Shall come to the age of Forty years that then he shall have his Discharge Liberty & Freedom given him.”
- “I give unto my Molatto man servant named Toby his Discharge Liberty & Freedom at one Years end next after my Decease on the Condition that he behave himselfe a true & Faithful Servant until that Time.”
- “I give unto my Negro man servant Named Scipio his Discharge Liberty & Freedom when he shall be Forty years old Provided & on condition that he truly & faithfully serve until that Time.”
I had to wonder, given his profession, if William had participated in the slave trade. Much of the correspondence from the Pepperrell business still exists, including receipts and bills of lading. From the book Messrs. William Pepperrell : Merchants at Piscataqua by Byron Fairchild, I found the following information regarding their business in Barbados:
“In 1719, . . .[Benjamin] Bullard shipped the Pepperrells a consignment of rum and five Negro slaves. It may be that on other occasions also they engaged in the slave traffic, on a similar scale, for one item in the St. Domingue accounts of the younger William and his brother-in-law, Benjamin Clarke, seems to cover the sale of a Negro slave. But slave dealing was an insignificant feature of their business. They doubtless had no great scruples against the trade, for they themselves were slaveowners; that they refrained because of the perishable nature of the cargo is more likely, since four of the five slaves shipped by Bullard died at sea and the other did not long survive the voyage.”
“Perishable nature of the cargo” is the statement that stays with me from this excerpt – humans as cargo, but I’m glad it was an “insignificant feature of their business.”
To George, Toby and Scipio – I hope you were treated well.
William is buried in a tomb across Pepperrell Road not far from his home.
While my mother was attending the New England School of Art, during World War II, she worked for a dressmaking firm called Miller and Levine on Newbury Street in Boston. Bernard Levine had emigrated from Stalbonov, Russia in 1924 and had founded the firm in 1940. They made dresses for stores such as Saks Fifth Avenue and Lord & Taylor. My mother drew their newspaper ads and dressed their windows. She had seen her fiance go off to fight the Germans in September of 1944. They had met in high school when she asked him to a Sadie Hawkins Dance. In December of that same year her mother-in-law-to-be received a telegram: Your son is missing in action and presumed dead.
And so she had lost her fiance. Or so she thought. Fast forward to June of 1945, shortly after her graduation from art school. The story is that one day my mother was dressing a store window when she saw a soldier walking toward her across the Boston Public Garden. She must have thought she was seeing a ghost, when she realized it was her fiance returning from war. He had been shot and captured and had spent more than 5 months in a German POW camp. Communication at that time was not what it is today! Mr. Levine kindly gave my mother the rest of the day off to be with her soldier.
And THAT is the story that I remember being told, of how my parents were reunited after he had been presumed dead.
After my recent success with a family Bible (see my Blog post about that here: http://wp.me/p4rqEE-n4) I thought I’d revisit some of the family heirlooms that have somehow ended up with me.
I found a treasure. Can you tell what it is?
Here’s a hint:
William K. Millar was my Dad.
One more hint:
Now you know what it is. The best part was the page that I found folded and tucked inside, which appears to have been ripped out of a magazine, (maybe Reader’s Digest?) probably given to him by his Mother (I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for her – sending her only son off to war):
As my Dad would have said, “‘Nuff said.”
I have had in my possession for more than 20 years, a family bible with the name Hutchins inside the front cover. My 3x great grandfather Theodore Hutchings was born about 1789 according to census records, but the Theodore listed in the bible was born in 1890 – about one hundred years later. I had put the bible away, thinking it was worth preserving but that I wasn’t sure how I connected to the family.
Recently, I have been working again on my 3x great grandfather Theodore Hutchings – I have been stuck on who his parents were – and recently found a fourth cousin on Ancestry who had information about his parents. When I asked about her source of the information, she told me that many years ago she had sat down with an elderly distant relative in Bucksport, Maine, who was considered an expert on the family. She was later able to verify the information she received that Theodore’s parents were Jeremiah Hutchings and Sarah Littlefield. I remembered the bible, carefully wrapped in tissue, tucked away in a drawer. I dug out the bible and took another look. The leather-bound bible is in very sad condition – the pages are brittle and there is a strong odor of mildew. It has had some water damage.
The first pages of the bible are missing, so no publication date was obvious at first glance. Inside the front cover is inscribed “Sarah Hutchins of Old York.” Hmmm…I know my Theodore was born in Old York.
I gingerly flipped through the pages and came to the blank page where someone (probably Sarah?) had written the names and dates of birth of eight children. It was on the back side of the first page of the New Testament where I found a publication date for the bible of 1805! Ok, we have a date – the bible is 211 years old! I looked at the list of children again – here’s a rough transcription of how it was written:
“Stephen Hutchings was born in 29 May 1888, Theodore Hutchings was born in November 7 = 1890, Deborah Hutchings was born in February — 1892, –Hutchings was born in January 8 = 1893 [?], Edward Hutchings was born in January 27 = 1897, Prissilen was born in January 23 = 1801, Ebenezer was born in December 20 = 1803, Abgiel was born in January 13 1805.”
The bible was published in 1805. This page was probably written in 1805 or a little later. I researched these siblings and discovered that the first five children, listed as having been born in the late 1800’s were actually born in the late 1700’s. Their birth order makes it clear that whoever wrote this page (Sarah????), put 18__ instead of 17__ for the first five children. Of course they would be listed chronologically! And this is MY Theodore – born November 7, 1790! And the bible belonged to my 4x great grandmother, Sarah Littlefield Hutchings! Oh, Sarah, you had me fooled for a very long time.
The book, A Pettingell Genealogy, written by John Mason Pettingell published in 1906, states Hannah is the daughter of Eliphalet Pettingell and Sarah Dill. Nope.
Hannah is my 4th great grandmother. She married Edward Hammond on 19 April 1796 in Sullivan, Hancock, Maine.
Born 15 Oct 1768 in North Yarmouth, Cumberland, Maine, she was not baptized until 10 November 1771. She was actually the daughter of Elisha Pettingell (brother of Eliphalet) and Rebekah Prince. Elisha and Rebekah had a habit of waiting (for the most part) at least a year after the birth of a child before having them baptized – a little unusual for the time:
Hannah, born 15 Oct 1768, baptized 10 Nov 1771
Jacob born 3 Jan 1771, baptized 12 Aug 1772
Jane (the second child of this name) born 5 Apr 1773, baptized 14 August 1774
Levi, born 7 Mar 1775, baptized 12 May 1776
Lucretia born 25 Jun 1778, baptized 16 Aug 1778
Hannah’s gravestone reads: “Hannah, Wife of Edward Hammond, died June 13, 1862. AEt. 93 ys.” This is consistent with a birth date of 15 Oct 1768.
Note that the Pettingell Genealogy does not list birth dates, but baptism dates. No date of birth or baptism is given for the Hannah listed as a daughter of Eliphalet and husband to Edward Hammond. I have no doubt that Hannah who married Edward Hammond is the daughter of Elisha Pettingell and Rebekah Prince. John Mason Pettingell got it wrong – and so did 125 family trees on Ancestry.com.
Sol’s Cliff in Bar Harbor on Mt. Desert Island in Maine was named for my 5x great grandfather, Solomon Higgins. Solomon was born in Eastham, Massachusetts in 1738. All ten of his children were born in Eastham, but by 1780 he had moved the family, with his second wife Esther, to Eden, Bar Harbor, Maine.
Prior to moving to Maine, Solomon served as a Captain in the Revolutionary War under Colonel Cary, serving for the town of Eastham.
Back to the original question: Why was Sol’s Cliff named for him? Perhaps due to his illustrious career as an officer in the Revolutionary War? Sadly, no. Sol wandered off during a snow storm, suffering from dementia in his old age. He fell over the cliff below Cromwell Harbor into the sea. His body was never found and the area has since been called Sol’s Cliff. See the location here:
My great uncle, my grandfather’s older brother, Ralph, once saved his mother’s life. I wrote about Ralph’s mother, Maria Mitchell Gerrish Pendleton in a previous post. Distracted by BSOs (bright shiny objects) as I was looking for an obituary/date of death for Ralph, I came across a number of newspaper articles about him. The first when he was only 14 years old! The title in the Boston Journal on 21 July 1904 found on GenealogyBank.com was “Lynn Boy Rescues Mother from Flames” with a byline of “Ralph Pendleton, 14 Years old, Dashes Through Fire and Smoke in Burning Building and Also Saves Girl From Death.” Could this be my great uncle? He was the right age and I knew that the family lived in Lynn at the time. The article gave the address of his mother (listed as Mrs. E.C. Pendleton in the article – it should actually have been Mrs. C.E. Pendleton) and I was able to confirm using city directories that this was MY Ralph Pendleton.
Here’s the story: Ralph’s Mother, Maria Pendleton had been outside talking to Mrs. Bee, a neighbor, when they heard another neighbor, Mrs. Hanlon, cry, “Oh, save my children.” Maria ran into the burning house and up the stairs with Mrs. Bee, son Ralph following close behind. Maria fell in the doorway of the children’s room with 6 year old Madeline Hanlon in her arms, overcome by the smoke. Ralph picked up the little girl and dragged his mother from the burning room, but could not take both of them down the stairs. He ran down the stairs, taking Madeline outside and returned for his mother. Firemen arrived shortly after Ralph’s second entrance into the burning building and assisted Ralph is bringing his mother down from the stair landing.
A little more about Ralph: Born in 1889 he married his first wife, Ruby Green on 21 January 1909 in Lynn. He was 19, she was 18 – a first marriage for both of them. In August of that year, Ruby gave birth prematurely to a boy, named Edward. He lived for 5 days – he is buried in an unmarked grave in Pine Grove Cemetery in Lynn. By December of 1912 Ruby was filing for divorce from Ralph on the grounds of cruel and abusive punishment saying, “regardless of his marriage vows and obligations, on divers occasions has cruelly and abusively treated her and that being of sufficient ability, he grossly and wantonly and cruelly refuses and neglects to provide a suitable maintenance for her.” He most certainly was not a hero to Ruby. The case was dismissed in 1914 without a final divorce decree.
Ralph had a son in born in 1917 (who I remember meeting as a child – he was my mother’s cousin). Ralph married the boy’s mother, Bessie Gerrish, three years later in 1920. A little backwards based on the accepted practice at the time. Their marriage record says that it is the first marriage for both of them (!). Ralph’s first wife, Ruby was finally granted a divorce from him in Maine in 1921 on grounds of desertion – a year after he married his second wife!
I remember hearing whisperings from my father that a couple in the family was not actually married and had lived together pretending to be husband and wife. Everyone was surprised when they actually did get married – it had been assumed that their marriage had taken place before the birth of their son. For many years I didn’t know who these family members might be – but now I think I’ve found them. <GRIN>