“what shall I Due! Due?”
JEMIMA CONDICT, at the ripe old age of twenty-on, ponders in her journal whether, and whom, she should marry. It seems she had an eye on a cousin but was not sure whether a union with a close relative was forbidden by her church. So she decides to consult her mother.
A delightful read, for Jemima has such a conversational style of writing and includes what might be called dialogue.
Wensday. [February 1775] Being full of thoughts about What to Do as I have this year Past. Sometimes I think I will Serting Bid him farewell forever But I thought I would talk to my mother & see if I could be Convinst one way or tother for I want to Hear the ground of What they have to say. So one Day my mother Says to me your father is going to get you a Chest I told her I should be Glad of one But Would not have her think twas because I thought to Marry. Why Says she Don’t you never intend to marry? I told her People said I was going to have Mr. ——. But they tell me they don’t think it is a right thing; and it is forbid &c. But Cant none of them as I Can find out tell me where it is forbid So Says I, what Do you think of it mother; She said She did Not think it was Right except I thought It was myself. I askt her if she thought my thinking it was right would make it so. She said my thinking so would cause A Contented easy mind.
Well Says I, But that ant telling what you think about it She Said she had heard his mother talk about it & she was against his Coming here. She said Moreover that she was apt to think I would Live a dogs Life amongst them. this made me to think I would not have him. But I still insisted upon hearing what she had to Say. at Last she told me that She had thought a great Deal about It & for her part Could Not see but that It was right & as for its being forbid She did not think there was such a Place In the Bible. She Said Likewise that she Did Not See what Ministers Should marry them for if twas forbid. So after this and much more being said I turned it off with a Laugh & Said What a fool am I, I talk as if I was going to marry a Cousin In good earnest but Did not know as I had one that would have me but If I hold my toungue & Say Nothing others will have all the talk. they talk to me but Convince they Don’t. I Could wish with all my heart I New the Right way & Could be made To Chuse it; but if it be rong Then What a fool was I While yong to Place my mind on such a one as a Cousin, its very true. Its o poor me what shall I Due! Due? Why I tell you What a conclusion I made & I hope I may hold to it & that Is to Trust in him Who knows all things for he knows What is best for me & What I ought to Do & What I ought not to Do. And will, I hope order things in mercy for me.
A bit more from Jemima Condict in the next post.
I certainly did not follow him, but I still suffered the consequences for his actions. The State began the process to confiscate his estate, which unfortunately for me and my family, was in his name. In an effort to stave off confiscation, I quickly petitioned Governor Livingston and the legislature hoping to transfer the property title to our Patriot family members. I wrote that I had “incurred the reproaches and hatred” of my husband and many family members because of my “attachment to the interests of America” and my “zeal in instilling those principles” in my children. My eldest son, seventeen year old Guilliam, in spite of his father’s commands to the contrary, joined the Patriot Bergen County militia under the command of Colonel Theunis Dey, and served when called to defend the frontiers of the State. I desperately continued trying to preserve our property that the State was confiscating even though my son was fighting for the Patriot cause. David left the New Jersey Volunteers by 1780 and became one of the initial members of Thomas Ward’s Loyal Refugee Volunteers, raised to supply the British army with firewood. Little did David know that this choice would bring him into direct conflict with our son. The Loyal Refugee Volunteers supplemented their wages by conducting raids into Bergen County, making off with cattle and other plunder. David was one of the 110 defenders of the Bull’s Ferry Blockhouse attacked by General Anthony Wayne’s troops that following July, and was still listed on their rolls in 1782, as David Demerea, a name also used by the family. His actions brought an indictment for high treason in Bergen County that was published in The New Jersey Gazette on November 22, 1780. When the major fighting of the war moved south in 1781, the petit guerre taking place in Bergen County still directly [affected] our lives on a daily basis. For David it meant cutting wood on Bergen Neck and raiding up into Bergen County. For Gilliam, it meant defending against Loyalist raids by forces that might include his father. The Royal Gazette, the New York Loyalist paper, on August 1, 1781 carried news that a party of Loyal Refugees who penetrated as far as the New Bridge, near Hackensack, captured three notorious rebels, drove off their stock, and returned without firing a shot. The three “notorious Rebels” were Gilliam, John and Philip Demarest, and they had been taken prisoner by David G. Demarest’s battalion. Two of the three captured Demarests, John and Philip, were imprisoned for less than six months before being paroled home and soon after exchanged. But my son Gilliam remained a captive in the notorious Sugar House prison in New York City. David took advantage of this and tried to convince him to join the Refugees. Gilliam, though, resisted his father’s repeated requests (more like demands) and remained committed to the Patriot cause. He survived the prison, was exchanged and went back into the Patriot military service. Soon after he was wounded in the hand during an engagement, again with his father’s Loyalist troops. At the end of the war our family found itself irreconcilably torn apart. I never again returned to David and spent the rest of my life in the new United States, as did Gilliam. However, we lost the comfort of our three room stone home, confiscated by the State in retaliation for David’s Loyalist actions. And as for David? He left Bergen County for good in October 1782 and sailed with his corps to Nova Scotia, eventually settling in Upper Canada (modern Ontario) on free grants of land provided by the British. The American Revolution left our family either exiled or homeless, despite fighting for both the winners and losers.
