Transcript Captivity Narratives

Captivity Narratives
Mary Rowlandson
&
Mary Jemison
• Autobiographies
• Mary Rowlandson
• Mary Jemison
Autobiography
• What do they tell us?
– Historical events
– “facts” of a person’s life
– What the individual thought of himself
– Social attitudes
• Race
• Gender
• Age
Autobiography
• Why autobiography is written
– Understand oneself
– Shape self into narrative
– Understand meaning of “American”
Autobiography
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The Confessions of St. Augustine
Written around 397 AD
Spiritual autobiography
Imitate Christ
da mihi castitatem et continentiam, sed noli
modo
Mary Rowlandson
• Born 1637?
• Lived in Mass.
• Captured 1676 (King
Philip’s War)
• 11 weeks in captivity
• 20 “removes”
• Ransomed for 20
pounds
• Died 1711
Mary Rowlandson
• Separated from two
children
• 6-year-old wounded,
dies after a week (no
name in text)
• Reunited on return
Mary Rowlandson
• Why does she write story?
– Tale of spiritual redemption
– Sets stage for later captivity narratives
Mary Rowlandson
There was one who was chopped into the head
with a hatchet, and stripped naked, and yet was
crawling up and down. It is a solemn sight to see
so many Christians lying in their blood, some
here, and some there, like a company of sheep
torn by wolves, all of them stripped naked by a
company of hell-hounds, roaring, singing, ranting,
and insulting, as if they would have torn our very
hearts out; yet the Lord by His almighty power
preserved a number of us from death, for there
were twenty-four of us taken alive and carried
captive.
Mary Rowlandson
I had often before this said that if the Indians
should come, I should choose rather to be killed
by them than taken alive, but when it came to the
trial my mind changed; their glittering weapons
so daunted my spirit, that I chose rather to go
along with those (as I may say) ravenous beasts,
than that moment to end my days; and that I may
the better declare what happened to me during
that grievous captivity, I shall particularly speak of
the several removes we had up and down the
wilderness.
THE SEVENTH REMOVE
After a restless and hungry night there, we had a
wearisome time of it the next day. The swamp by
which we lay was, as it were, a deep dungeon,
and an exceeding high and steep hill before it.
Before I got to the top of the hill, I thought my
heart and legs, and all would have broken, and
failed me… A solemn sight methought it was, to
see fields of wheat and Indian corn forsaken and
spoiled and the remainders of them to be food
for our merciless enemies. That night we had a
mess of wheat for our supper.
THE TENTH REMOVE
…being hungry, I went again back to the place
we were before at, to get something to eat,
being encouraged by the squaw's kindness,
who bade me come again. When I was there,
there came an Indian to look after me, who
when he had found me, kicked me all along. I
went home and found venison roasting that
night, but they would not give me one bit of it.
Sometimes I met with favor, and sometimes
with nothing but frowns
THE THIRTEENTH REMOVE
As I was sitting once in the wigwam here, Philip's maid
came in with the child in her arms, and asked me to
give her a piece of my apron, to make a flap for it. I told
her I would not. Then my mistress bade me give it, but
still I said no. The maid told me if I would not give her a
piece, she would tear a piece off it. I told her I would
tear her coat then. With that my mistress rises up, and
take up a stick big enough to have killed me, and struck
at me with it. But I stepped out, and she struck the
stick into the mat of the wigwam. But while she was
pulling of it out I ran to the maid and gave her all my
apron, and so that storm went over.
Mary Rowlandson
But before I go any further, I would take leave
to mention a few remarkable passages of
providence, which I took special notice of in
my afflicted time.
I say, that then our army should want provision, and be
forced to leave their pursuit and return homeward; and
the very next week the enemy came upon our town,
like bears bereft of their whelps, or so many ravenous
wolves, rending us and our lambs to death. But what
shall I say? God seemed to leave his People to
themselves, and order all things for His own holy ends.
Shall there be evil in the City and the Lord hath not
done it? They are not grieved for the affliction of
Joseph, therefore shall they go captive, with the first
that go captive. It is the Lord's doing, and it should be
marvelous in our eyes.
Mary Rowlandson
It was thought, if their corn were cut down, they
would starve and die with hunger, and all their
corn that could be found, was destroyed, and
they driven from that little they had in store, into
the woods in the midst of winter; and yet how to
admiration did the Lord preserve them for His
holy ends, and the destruction of many still
amongst the English! strangely did the Lord
provide for them; that I did not see (all the time I
was among them) one man, woman, or child, die
with hunger.
Mary Rowlandson
5. Another thing that I would observe is the
strange providence of God, in turning things
about when the Indians was at the highest, and
the English at the lowest. I was with the enemy
eleven weeks and five days, and not one week
passed without the fury of the enemy, and some
desolation by fire and sword upon one place or
other. They mourned (with their black faces) for
their own losses, yet triumphed and rejoiced in
their inhumane, and many times devilish cruelty
to the English.
Mary Jemison
• Born 1743 on ship
• Captured 1758
• Comes to James Seaver
to write story in 1823.
• Dehgewanus, or "White
Woman of the
Genesee"
Mary Jemison
• A “told-to” autobiography
– Whose words are used?
– What is being emphasized? Why?
Captured
During this time, the Indians stripped the shoes and stockings from the
little boy that belonged to the woman who was taken with us, and put
moccasins on his feet, as they had done before on mine. I was crying. An
Indian took the little boy and myself by the hand, to lead us off from the
company, when my mother exclaimed, "Don't cry Mary--don't cry my
child. God will bless you! Farewell--farewell!"
The Indian led us some distance into the bushes, or woods, and there lay
down with us to spend the night. The recollection of parting with my
tender mother kept me awake, while the tears constantly flowed from my
eyes. A number of times in the night the little boy begged of me earnestly
to run away with him and get clear of the Indians; but remembering the
advice I had so lately received, and knowing the dangers to which we
should be exposed, in travelling without a path and without a guide,
through a wilderness unknown to us, I told him that I would not go, and
persuaded him to lie still till morning.
Captured
Early the next morning the Indians and Frenchmen that we had left the night
before, came to us; but our friends were left behind. It is impossible for any
one to form a correct idea of what my feelings were at the sight of those
savages, whom I supposed had murdered my parents and brothers, sister, and
friends, and left them in the swamp to be devoured by wild beasts! But what
could I do? A poor little defenceless girl; without the power or means of
escaping; without a home to go to, even if I could be liberated; without a
knowledge of the direction or distance to my former place of residence; and
without a living friend to whom to fly for protection, I felt a kind of horror,
anxiety, and dread, that, to me, seemed insupportable. I durst not cry--I durst
not complain; and to inquire of them the fate of my friends (even if I could
have mustered resolution) was beyond my ability, as I could not speak their
language, nor they understand mine. My only relief was in silent stifled sobs.
My suspicions as to the fate of my parents proved too true; for soon
after I left them they were killed and scalped, together with Robert, Matthew,
Betsey, and the woman and her two children, and mangled in the most
shocking manner.
Mary Jemison
On the way we passed a Shawnee town, where I
saw a number of heads, arms, legs, and other
fragments of the bodies of some white people
who had just been burned. The parts that
remained were hanging on a pole, which was
supported at each end by a crotch stuck in the
ground, and were roasted or burnt black as a
coal. The fire was yet burning; and the whole
appearance afforded a spectacle so shocking that
even to this day the blood almost curdles in my
veins when I think of them.
My sisters would not allow me to speak English in their
hearing; but remembering the charge that my dear mother gave me at
the time I left her, whenever I chanced to be alone I made a business
of repeating my prayer, catechism, or something I had learned, in
order that I might not forget my own language. By practicing in that
way, I retained it till I came to Genesee flats, where I soon became
acquainted with English people, with whom I have been almost daily in
the habit of conversing.
My sisters were very diligent in teaching me their language;
and to their great satisfaction, I soon learned so that I could
understand it readily, and speak it fluently. I was very fortunate in
falling into their hands; for they were kind, good-natured women;
peaceable and mild in their dispositions; temperate and decent in their
habits, and very tender and gentle toward me. I have great reason to
respect them, though they have been dead a great number of years.
Mary Jemison
Soon after the close of the revolutionary war, my
Indian brother, Kau-jises-tau-ge-au (which being
interpreted signifies Black Coals,) offered me my
liberty, and told me that if it was my choice I might go
to my friends.
My son, Thomas, was anxious that I should go; and
offered to go with me and assist me on the journey, by
taking care of the younger children, and providing food
as we travelled through the wilderness. But the Chiefs
of our tribe, suspecting from his appearance, actions,
and a few warlike exploits, that Thomas would be a
great warrior, or a good counsellor, refused to let him
leave them on any account whatever.
To go myself, and leave him, was more than I felt
able to do; for he had been kind to me, and was
one on whom I placed great dependence. The
Chiefs refusing to let him go, was one reason for
my resolving to stay; but another, more powerful,
if possible, was, that I had got a large family of
Indian children, that I must take with me; and
that if I should be so fortunate as to find my
relatives, they would despise them, if not myself;
and treat us as enemies; or, at least with a degree
of cold indifference, which I thought I could not
endure.
Mary Jemison
Accordingly, after I had duly considered the
matter, I told my brother that it was my choice to
stay and spend the remainder of my days with my
Indian friends, and live with my family as I had
heretofore done. He appeared well pleased with
my resolution, and informed me, that as that was
my choice, I should have a piece of land that I
could call my own, where I could live unmolested,
and have something at my decease to leave for
the benefit of my children.
Mary Jemison
No people can live more happy than the Indians did in times of peace,
before the introduction of spiritous liquors among them. Their lives were a
continual round of pleasures. Their wants were few, and easily satisfied,
and their cares were only for to-day -- the bounds of their calculation for
future comfort not extending to the incalculable uncertainties of tomorrow. If peace ever dwelt with men, it was in former times, in the
recess from war, among what are now termed barbarians. The moral
character of the Indians was (if I may be allowed the expression)
uncontaminated. Their fidelity was perfect, and became proverbial. They
were strictly honest; they despised deception and falsehood; and chastity
was held in high 'veneration, and a violation of it was considered sacrilege.
They were temperate in their desires, moderate in their passions, and
candid and honorable in the expression of their sentiments, on every
subject of importance.
Next week
• Benjamin Franklin