Captivity narratives—accounts usually by women taken by Indians, who lived with them for some time and ultimately returned to “civilization,”—were fairly common and avidly read during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. See the post about Mary Jemison. Most narratives were related by the victim to another person who published them. Naturally, these tales have to be approached with caution as the person who “records” the experience has likely inserted, consciously or unconsciously, his own bias or contextual setting, usually but not always, religious in nature. Mary Kinnan’s story was told to Shepard Kollock, a printer in New Jersey, who published it. The narrative reads as if it were a first person account by Mary Kinnan herself.

Our house was situated in a beautifully romantic and agreeable place, called Tiger’s [Tygart’s] valley in Randolph County, State of Virginia. Here I would mark nature progressing, and the revolutions of the seasons; and from these would turn to contemplate the buds of virtue and of genius, sprouting in the bosoms of my children. Employed in such a pleasing occupation on that evening, I was startled by the bursting open of the door: I turned my affrighted eyes, and leapt with terror at the sight of three armed Indians. I saw the flash of the musket! – I heard the groan of my husband! Quick as thought I seized my youngest child: fear added wings to my flight, and I ran with the swiftness of the wind. Alas . . . I was caught again; desperation gave me strength, and I again broke loose. I scarcely touched the ground as I coursed over the plain, when the cry of my child, supplicating me for help, arrested my ear. . . . I flew to assist her and was taken. A third time I attempted to escape, but was knocked to the ground with a tomohawk. I then made signs of submission and was carried to the house. Gracious God! what a scene presented itself to me! My child, scalped and slaughtered, smiled even then; my husband, scalped and weltering in his blood, fixed on me his dying eye, which, though languid, still expressed an apprehension for my safety and sorrow at his inability to assist me, and accompanied the look with a groan that went through my heart. Spare me the pain describing my feelings at this scene, this mournful scene, which racked my agonizing heart and precipitated me to the verge of madness. . . .

After plundering the house of the most valuable articles, and pinioning my arms behind me, they departed; with them I, too, was forced to go. . . .
it was on Friday night that I was taken; on Saturday night they rested and trimmed their scalps. Ah! what did I not feel at the sight of these memorials of savage cruelty. . . .

The Indians, with their captive, arrived at the Ohio River which they crossed on a raft and in a few days came to the land where the Shawanees lived. Mary Kinnan continued her story.

I lived . . . with the sister of the savage who tore me from my peaceful home. . . . [Then] I was bought by a Delaware squaw, and by her was put to the most menial and laborious offices.

One of the principal objects of my attention, whilst I lived amongst the Indians, was the humiliating condition of their women. Here the female sex, instead of polishing and improving the rough manners of the men, are equally ferocious, cruel and obdurate. Instead of that benevolent disposition and warm sensibility to the sufferings of others which mark their characters in more civilized climes, they quaff with ecstatic pleasure the blood of the innocent prisoner, writhing with agony under the inhuman torments inflicted upon him. . . .

Interesting is the role of women ” in more civilized climes” as described by Mary Kinnan. She goes on to describe how she eventually made contact with her brother via traders and finally escaped from the Indians. She counseled others “who are pierced by the darts of misfortune, [to] imitate my example, and like me, recline in the bosom of your Father and your God.” She was thirty-three years old when she returned to her family in Basking Ridge, New Jersey. She was awarded a pension in 1836 and lived until 1848.

The whole of Mary Kinnan’s story can be found HERE. It was published as “A True Narrative of the Sufferings of Mary Kinnan, who was taken Prisoner by the Shawanee Indians on the Thirteenth Day of May, 1791, and Remained with Them till the Sixteenth of August, 1794. Elizabethtown: Printed by Shepard Kollocik, MDCCXCV.”

Deborah Norris, daughter of a Quaker merchant in Philadelphia, wrote to her friend Sally Fisher in Duck Creek on May 6, 1780, about their prospects for marriage.

—indeed my dear it seems to me that we shall neither of us marry, but for reasons rather different, thee from not having any offer thee approves, I, from having no offers to disapprove, so I think we may as well be fore hand with our destiny and agree upon living Old Maids, by the way, I think it is a situation that may be supported with great dignity, And I always thought it a striking impropriety for any person, especially one of our own Sex, to speak in that Contemptuous way of Old Maids which is sometimes common, And which too many practice.

In fact both Deborah and her friend married: Deborah to Dr. George Logan, a prominent Philadelphia physician, in 1781, and Sally to William Corbit in 1784, in Delaware.

The excerpt can be found on page 184 of In the Words of Women.

It has been said that three events defined women’s lives in the late eighteenth century: birth, marriage, and death.

Those who did not marry often lived with another family member, usually a brother, and helped manage the household, sometimes assuming the role of governess. Unmarried Rebecca Franks was not so lucky: one brother, Moses, lived in the West Indies, another in Montreal, and a third died in the yellow fever epidemic in Philadelphia in 1793. A spinster, Rebecca lived alone in Philadelphia and was dependent upon her family for funds. She wrote to her brother in Canada:

Philadelphia, February 5th 1799My Dear Brother
I realy am at a loss to find words to express my joy in addressing my lost Brother. . . . Oh! Brother, it is many Years since we have been with each other. I suppose you have no recollection of me and I am sure I have none of you. I have gone through many scenes since I was in Canady; I was a very young adventurer, as I may say am still, but I trust in God . . . that I shall shortly be settled with or near you, for at present I feel friendless and desert’d without parents, without connection, for my Brother Moses is never with me. If he was, my situation would be far more agreeable, but he is sometimes gone for 2 years. . . .
My sole dependence is on his bounty. I have been under the disagreeable necessity of applying to a friend of his for Money to pay my board and get necessaries for I am oblig’d to appear genteel. . . . thank God I have never done any thing to occasion a blush in either of my Brother’s faces. It would be a very great happiness to me was I capable of doing something for my self but I am not, therefore I must be content.
I pay at the rate of five dollars per Week for my board, and is as cheap as I can get it. I am with a very worthy couple who are advanced in life without Children. They do all they can to make me comfortable, but you know that is not like being with or near our own relatives. Their is but three of us left, and I think it a very great pity that we could not all be to gather, but instead of that you are in Canada, my Brother Moses in the West Indies, and poor me in Philadelphia.
[your] Affectionate Sister

Rebecca Franks letter can be found on page 185 of In the Words of Women.

Despite the fact that the anniversary of the Boston Tea Party has passed (December 16, see “A Pernicious Article of Commerce”), I could not resist posting this poem “A Lady’s Adieu to her Tea Table” that appeared in the Virginia Gazette, January 20, 1774. I discovered it on The City University of New York, La Guardia Community College website: “Women’s Leadership in American History,” which is supported by The New york Times and J. P. Morgan Chase. It was the basis for a lesson plan for 11th grade Social Studies. It would also be suitable for English classes. As a former teacher of 11th grade Social Studies who is totally committed to the idea of using primary source materials in history classes, I appreciate how interesting a couple of periods could be discussing the context and various elements of the poem.

Farewell the Tea Board, with its gaudy Equipage,
Of Cups and Saucers, Cream Bucket, Sugar Tongs,
The pretty Tea Chest also, lately stor’d
With Hyson and Congo and best Double Fine.
Full many a joyous Moment have I sat by ye,
Hearing the Girls’ Tattle, the Old Maids talk Scandal.
And the spruce Coxcomb laugh at – maybe – Nothing.
No more shall I dish out the once lov’d Liquor,
Though now detestable,
Because I’m taught (and I believe it true)
Its Use will fasten slavish Chains upon my Country,
And LIBERTY’s the Goddess I would choose
To reign triumphant in AMERICA.

I hope teachers among the readers of this blog will use the student handout and this document which are on pages 7 and 8 of the Leadership packet. Be sure to take a look at the other lessons using primary sources. A treasure trove of ideas, documents, and plans!