Colonial dames and good wives

by Alice Morse Earle

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....