As you can tell from the other entries on this blog, I’ve been fascinated with New Jersey history ever since I moved here. Maybe it’s latently defensive, considering that mocking New Jersey is a minor national pastime, and one that I understand. There’s so much about the most traveled parts of the state that represents the worst in land management and zoning, or lack thereof, in the country. Much of the state serves mostly as a conduit between Philadelphia and New York, and another huge chunk is merely a suburb of one or another of those cities.
The part of New Jersey where I live, south of Philadelphia, is still mostly farmland, although developments of McMansions have encroached on the landscape in the last 20 years the way that kudzu has covered the southern mountains. The Pine Barrens, land that was purchased by Joseph Wharton in the 19th century to be an aquifer to serve Philadelphia, remains protected, one million unlikely acres of pristine forest in the most densely populated state in the Union.
The overdevelopment of the rest of the state, and the progressive degradation of the landscape only serves to make what remains more precious. Those remnants of the past that survive are more compelling because of the odds they've beaten. In many cases they have remained untouched not out of some concern for their preservation, but out of indifference.
My wife , Judy, has pointed out to me that other parts of the region, like Chester County and Berks County in Pennsylvania, are more untouched by time than this area. So I think it might be the contrast between a 1716 tavern next to a 1950's gas station that makes it more compelling to me, like a 1930's Rolls Royce would be, if parked in a lot full of Nissans. The part of my personality that had me scouring flea markets and yard sales, rarely buying but always searching for that rare treasure, might explain my interest in local history . I probably am well suited to panning for gold.
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Henry Carlton Beck wrote a series of books in the first half of the last century that are so well written and entertaining that I would recommend them to anyone, regardless of their interest in New Jersey. He wrote about towns that were once bustling centers of activity, many of them ghost towns now, because their business of extracting ore from the iron rich mud of the pinelands creeks was made unprofitable by access to the more easily mined iron of upstate Pennsylvania. His method, like Edith Hoele's method that I mentioned in the "Summertime" post, was drawing from personal interviews with people old enough to remember details of things which had disappeared before many of us were born, and so are unknown to us. I don't think we're doing enough of that now, but that might be because I'm rapidly approaching the age of interviewee. My guess is that it takes a lot of patience to draw out the useful information from the maudlin, nostalgic inventory of personal loss that older people need little prompting to share. Another kind of gold panning, for information.
One of his stories that captured my imagination was about Port Elizabeth. If you drive down Rt 55 all the way to the end, and the road turns into old Rt.47, you’ll almost immediately pass a bait shop and a tiny post office, that today are the major features of Port Elizabeth. But at one time, it was a major seaport, trading with the West Indies in competition with Philadelphia and New York, though its status as such was as short lived as the local industries that supported it.
The town was founded by Elizabeth Clark Bodly, whose remarkable story I had intended to research and tell. Legend was that she and Elizabeth Haddon were good friends, who traveled to each other’s town, but Beck thinks this unlikely, since they were 40 years apart in age, and at the time Mrs. Bodly conceived of her plan, it’s doubtful that Haddon did much traveling. But the influence of the latter on the former is indisputable, and although their personal backgrounds were very different, as were their fortunes, they both stand out as remarkable Quaker women of great faith whose achievements can’t be diminished
So it seemed I couldn’t tell the story of Bodly without prefacing it with the story of Haddon.
So we have: Two Elizabeths
Additional Notes:
There are many references in this story to the Quaker influence on each of the two Elizabeths. The Quaker tradition is such an important part of the character and history of this area, that it occurs to me that it might be helpful to explain Quaker tradition a little, in the unlikely event that someone might read this who lives beyond the sphere of Quaker influence.
Quaker worship, in practice more closely resembles Zen Buddhism than other Christian denominations. They don't have churches, they have Meeting Houses. There is no preacher or pulpit, each member is an equal participant in the meeting, which involves group meditation in search of a light of guidance, which the Quakers believe to be Divine Inspiration. The inner light desciption is used by Buddhists also, the difference being that they believe the light to be an eternal part of human nature. The Quakers, in their meetings, are seeking what the Buddhists would call kensho, a glimpse of the nature of existence and a harmony with the universe.
If someone at a Meeting feels inspired to speak, he or she stands and speaks, and gets the full attention of the congregation, with the assumption that the words were divinely inspired. It's a uniquely egalitarian approach to Christian worship.
I lean toward Buddhism in my own beliefs, and I also see the Amish tradition as being very similar to Tibetan Buddhism. Amish worship is a 24/7 endeavor,similar to the lives of Tibetan monks, but with women and children. Traditions become the rituals, and harmony with the universe is clearly the goal, even if not stated. Amish seek satori, or permanent harmony, by ritualizing work as representative of man's purpose. To them, they are doing what God intended them to do. To the Buddhists this would be called achieving harmony with the universe.
On a community level, however, the two religions, Quaker and Amish, are different. Amish society is closed off from the world, and patriarchal. One of the fundamental principals of Quakers is equality. Every human being is equal, without exeption. The king is equal to a beggar. It's no accident, to me, that the birthplace of American ideals of democracy came to be in an area heavily influenced by Quakerism, . But the other major tenet of Quakers is pacifism without exeption, so although their democratic ideals may have helped to inspire the revolutionary cause, they were not active participents , and despite what should have been a grudge against British rule for their persecution in England, they lent comfort and support to wounded of both sides.
It was probably unfortunate for the Native Americans in this area that the first Europeans that they encountered were Quakers. I have no doubt that William Penn had no ulterior motives in creating his treaty, and Elizabeth Haddon had great respect for the wisdom and knowledge of the indigenous people in her area, and several attended the modest wedding celebration she held at her house. It was unfortunate, because it gave them no warning of what would come from the next wave of immigrants.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Two Elizabeths
Being the story of two remarkable women and their achievements in 18th century New Jersey
Chapter One
Imagine what an utter act of faith it was to board a two-masted ship in London to sail across the ocean to the New World, in 1700, when the risks of the journey itself paled in comparison to the dangers of a successful voyage. With primitive navigation, no modern weather detection that might warn of a hurricane mid-voyage,, the very real threat of very real pirates, and no possibility of a quick rescue at sea if one was needed, I wonder how many would take such a trip in order to leave behind everyone they knew and everything they were accustomed to, to go and live in a place that can only be compared today to the furthest recesses of the Amazonian jungle.
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Chapter One
Imagine what an utter act of faith it was to board a two-masted ship in London to sail across the ocean to the New World, in 1700, when the risks of the journey itself paled in comparison to the dangers of a successful voyage. With primitive navigation, no modern weather detection that might warn of a hurricane mid-voyage,, the very real threat of very real pirates, and no possibility of a quick rescue at sea if one was needed, I wonder how many would take such a trip in order to leave behind everyone they knew and everything they were accustomed to, to go and live in a place that can only be compared today to the furthest recesses of the Amazonian jungle.
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But that is the choice Elizabeth Haddon made when, as a young woman of 20 years old in 1701, she journeyed alone, without family or friends, to make a new home in a new world.
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Her early years were spent in Southwark, across the Thames from London , daughter of a respected Quaker family, respected by Friends, at least, for it was a time of relentless persecution of Quakers by the Crown.
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She was a studious, but lively girl, curious about her world, devoted to the principles of the Friends instilled in her by her family, and intrigued by the charitable work her mother was often engaged in.
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Her early years were spent in Southwark, across the Thames from London , daughter of a respected Quaker family, respected by Friends, at least, for it was a time of relentless persecution of Quakers by the Crown.
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She was a studious, but lively girl, curious about her world, devoted to the principles of the Friends instilled in her by her family, and intrigued by the charitable work her mother was often engaged in.
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On one notable occasion, before she was six years old, she begged her family to let her have a little tea party for her friends. She was made to help with the baking of cakes and to buy fruit for the occasion with her meager savings, and all preparations, and on the appointed day, the "friends" arrived, six young street urchins straight out of Oliver Twist, whom she had seen around her neighborhood and took pity on, and who made short work of the cakes and fruits that had been laid out. Her parents were taken aback by this display of kindness, but withheld praise from her, not wanting her to believe anything other than that charitable acts are their own reward, and not done for the praise or admiration of others.
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Her father was a blacksmith by trade, most notably as a maker of anchors, which was a profitable enough enterprise near a seaport the size of London. After losing three of Elizabeth's siblings to health problems related to the unsanitary and otherwise unhealthy conditions of early urban centers, her father moved the family down the river to the countryside. It was a mere half-mile from the Horselydown Friends Meeting-House, where Elizabeth would worship right up until she left for America.
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Being a prominent member of the meeting, her father was visited by other Quakers of note, including William Penn, who visited the Haddon household when Elizabeth was six. She was captivated by this charismatic man's tales of the new world across the ocean, his "green country towne" of Philadelphia, where Quakers could meet without fear of having the meeting house burned down by British troops, which had already happened to her meeting. As his stories of the new colony moved onto descriptions of the native people and their customs, young Elizabeth moved closer, wanting more detail about papooses, and teepees and mocassins and the natives' natural harmony with the land.
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Being a prominent member of the meeting, her father was visited by other Quakers of note, including William Penn, who visited the Haddon household when Elizabeth was six. She was captivated by this charismatic man's tales of the new world across the ocean, his "green country towne" of Philadelphia, where Quakers could meet without fear of having the meeting house burned down by British troops, which had already happened to her meeting. As his stories of the new colony moved onto descriptions of the native people and their customs, young Elizabeth moved closer, wanting more detail about papooses, and teepees and mocassins and the natives' natural harmony with the land.
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Her interest became obsession, and in the ensuing years, her playthings were Indian dolls and moccasins, and her daydreams were about America. She would set up little doll diaramas with figures representing the Natives, and "read " from a newspaper the treaty with the Indians that Penn had negotiated. Her siblings grew tired of Elizabeth's obsession with America and the natives, and begged her to play some other games. But these were the only games that gave her any satisfaction.
As she got older, a practicality crept into her fantasies that would eventually lead her to step onto the gangplank of that ship a few years later.
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When she was 14, a young man named John Estaugh spoke at the Yearly Meeting in London, and young Elizabeth was quite taken with his passion for Quakerism and his deep, strong voice echoing through the Meeting House. She must have been beside herself when, on one occasion, John Estaugh was a guest at dinner in the Haddon household, and being just 14, she could not join them at the table. I imagine her crouched in a corner somewhere nearby, noting his every word. Estaugh had been to America, and gave the family an ear of Indian corn, one of several he had brought back to give as curiosities. The fact that he had been to the land of her dreams only amplified the magnetism she felt toward him. At some point in the evening, she managed to speak to him, and Elizabeth would never forget that short, probably most proper, conversation, for it was with the man she would eventually marry.
When she was 14, a young man named John Estaugh spoke at the Yearly Meeting in London, and young Elizabeth was quite taken with his passion for Quakerism and his deep, strong voice echoing through the Meeting House. She must have been beside herself when, on one occasion, John Estaugh was a guest at dinner in the Haddon household, and being just 14, she could not join them at the table. I imagine her crouched in a corner somewhere nearby, noting his every word. Estaugh had been to America, and gave the family an ear of Indian corn, one of several he had brought back to give as curiosities. The fact that he had been to the land of her dreams only amplified the magnetism she felt toward him. At some point in the evening, she managed to speak to him, and Elizabeth would never forget that short, probably most proper, conversation, for it was with the man she would eventually marry.
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In 1698, Elizabeth's fate was sealed when her father purchased a 500 acre plantation, across the river from Philadelphia. She was 18 at the time, and for the next two years, she could think of nothing else but of making a home there, in that new, exciting world.
In 1698, Elizabeth's fate was sealed when her father purchased a 500 acre plantation, across the river from Philadelphia. She was 18 at the time, and for the next two years, she could think of nothing else but of making a home there, in that new, exciting world.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Two Elizabeths Chapter Two
John Haddon, having bought the land in what was then West Jersey at the urging of Penn, was not as enthusiastic about the idea of resettling there as was his daughter. He had a successful business that provided well for the family, many friends at the Meeting and in the community as a whole,. Adventure seeking for its own sake is not a particularly Quaker value, but in any case he had probably reached the point in life where one tries to limit risks, rather than seek them out.
He sent two men to the new plantation to build suitable housing for his family anyway, in case he was given a sign that God's intentions were for him to go there. But that call didn't come for John Haddon. Time and again some business or health matter would prevent him from making even an investigative trip to see his new estate. Eventually he saw his own procrastination as the sign he'd been seeking. He gathered his family, and told them that he'd lost interest in going to America, and would consider giving the estate to a family member whose interest was keener than his. Elizabeth was heartbroken, of course. But not being the brooding sort, she considered her father's words, and the following evening summoned the family to the great family table. There she announced to them that she was, in fact, a family member with a keen interest, and that she proposed to go to West Jersey and establish herself there, as she believed that she had received the call her father had waited for.
Her family was as sceptical as any family at that time would have been about the ability of a girl of Elizabeth's age to settle in a new world and successfully operate a farm. But devout as they were, they did not take talk of calls from God lightly. When they gently expressed their doubts, Elizabeth responded that, in fact, young girls had led countries at various times and places in history, and that it could not be more difficult to run a farm than it is to run a country. Besides, she said, her call was to minister to the natives and to the people who were struggling, and she was certain that God would provide for a servant performing that work on his behalf.
Whether or not Elizabeth truly believed what she was saying, or was refusing to relinquish her life long dream, and in doing so was using the arguments that she knew would be most persuasive to her family, was a question that crossed the minds of the family. But these doubts were unspoken out of the great respect that Elizabeth held amongst them, and out of respect for her intentions. So rather than deny her, they asked her to meditate, in Quaker fashion, for a period of three months, to seek the light that would confirm to her that this was indeed the path chosen ,not by her, but for her.
It should be no surprise, just as it was no surprise to her family, that every day of the three months brought a stronger conviction in Elizabeth that she was intended to go to America. She became more affectionate to her family as the weeks went by, in a way that indicated to them that she knew that soon she would be missing their company. Her way was lit most clearly, but whether the source of the light was divine inspiration, her sense of adventure, her enormous curiosity, or a vague hope that perhaps she might encounter John Estaugh there, Elizabeth, in all likelihood, could not have determined herself.
The manner of this extraordinary family was to refrain from expressing doubts and fears that might inhibit their children from following the path chosen, so in spite of what must have been great trepidation about the safety and health of their beloved daughter, arrangements were made , when the three months were up, for Elizabeth to travel to the new plantation. She would be accompanied by Peter and Joseph, two workmen who were up to the task of helping Elizabeth establish the farm. Also accompanying her would be Hannah, the family housemaid, who had known Elizabeth for most of the girl's life, and who, in the isolated home to which they were headed, would become the dearest of friends. Into one of the great chests she packed, Elizabeth quietly slipped the ear of corn that had been a gift from John Estaugh.
He sent two men to the new plantation to build suitable housing for his family anyway, in case he was given a sign that God's intentions were for him to go there. But that call didn't come for John Haddon. Time and again some business or health matter would prevent him from making even an investigative trip to see his new estate. Eventually he saw his own procrastination as the sign he'd been seeking. He gathered his family, and told them that he'd lost interest in going to America, and would consider giving the estate to a family member whose interest was keener than his. Elizabeth was heartbroken, of course. But not being the brooding sort, she considered her father's words, and the following evening summoned the family to the great family table. There she announced to them that she was, in fact, a family member with a keen interest, and that she proposed to go to West Jersey and establish herself there, as she believed that she had received the call her father had waited for.
Her family was as sceptical as any family at that time would have been about the ability of a girl of Elizabeth's age to settle in a new world and successfully operate a farm. But devout as they were, they did not take talk of calls from God lightly. When they gently expressed their doubts, Elizabeth responded that, in fact, young girls had led countries at various times and places in history, and that it could not be more difficult to run a farm than it is to run a country. Besides, she said, her call was to minister to the natives and to the people who were struggling, and she was certain that God would provide for a servant performing that work on his behalf.
Whether or not Elizabeth truly believed what she was saying, or was refusing to relinquish her life long dream, and in doing so was using the arguments that she knew would be most persuasive to her family, was a question that crossed the minds of the family. But these doubts were unspoken out of the great respect that Elizabeth held amongst them, and out of respect for her intentions. So rather than deny her, they asked her to meditate, in Quaker fashion, for a period of three months, to seek the light that would confirm to her that this was indeed the path chosen ,not by her, but for her.
It should be no surprise, just as it was no surprise to her family, that every day of the three months brought a stronger conviction in Elizabeth that she was intended to go to America. She became more affectionate to her family as the weeks went by, in a way that indicated to them that she knew that soon she would be missing their company. Her way was lit most clearly, but whether the source of the light was divine inspiration, her sense of adventure, her enormous curiosity, or a vague hope that perhaps she might encounter John Estaugh there, Elizabeth, in all likelihood, could not have determined herself.
The manner of this extraordinary family was to refrain from expressing doubts and fears that might inhibit their children from following the path chosen, so in spite of what must have been great trepidation about the safety and health of their beloved daughter, arrangements were made , when the three months were up, for Elizabeth to travel to the new plantation. She would be accompanied by Peter and Joseph, two workmen who were up to the task of helping Elizabeth establish the farm. Also accompanying her would be Hannah, the family housemaid, who had known Elizabeth for most of the girl's life, and who, in the isolated home to which they were headed, would become the dearest of friends. Into one of the great chests she packed, Elizabeth quietly slipped the ear of corn that had been a gift from John Estaugh.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Two Elizabeths Chapter 3
No real record of the transatlantic voyage of Elizabeth and her companions remains, save one reference I found to her cheerful disposition for the duration of the trip. This likely annoyed her older companion Hannah, who was more reticent about the adventure than Elizabeth, and a sea voyage of that length, on that type of ship, was notoriously rough going for even the sailors.
After visiting friends from London who had relocated to Philadelphia, they made another stop at Burlington to see friends at the Meeting there. Then they hired a river boatman to take them to their new home. The mouth of the Cooper River is almost directly across the Delaware River from the large oak tree where Penn had signed his treaty with the Natives, and what a thrill it must have been for Elizabeth to see this natural monument that had played such a major role in her childhood games. Along the river they saw people who were living in caves and lean-tos along the banks, newcomers who were having a hard time getting established, and while it tore at Elizabeth's heart to see such human suffering, it reaffirmed to her that her call to serve was clear and necessary. The boatman warned of desperados and Natives in the thick woods along the banks of the Cooper, but Elizabeth was unafraid, certain that some Divine force would protect her from harm, and that certainty lent a serenity and steadfastness to her presence that served her well in the coming years. As she later said, when someone asked if she weren't afraid of some of the strangers who would appear at her door to seek shelter, "Perfect Love Casteth out Fear."
The pleasant but modest house sat on a knoll 150 yards back from the water, and after settling in. Elizabeth was beside herself with excitement, and unlike Hannah, who fell off to sleep at the first opportunity, she was wakeful the whole night, enchanted by the unfamiliar song of the whippoorwill. The next morning she rose early and went outside, and upon seeing her verdant, unblemished surroundings was overcome with emotion. As one early account tells it:
"She dropped on her knees, and with an outburst of prayer exclaimed fervently, "O Father, how beautiful hast thou made this earth!"
While her surroundings may have been heavenly, her situation presented many, more earthly challenges, but she proved herself equal to the task. She made fast friends with the local Natives, who saw her guileless nature and openness as a sign of her trustworthiness. The house was at that time three miles from the nearest neighbor, but word of the newcomer spread surprisingly fast, and when visitors would come by, in addition to being treated to Elizabeth’s famous hospitality, they would be peppered with practical questions. She asked what kind of grain was most likely to be successfully planted in that locale, and when told rye did well there, said" Then I shall eat rye bread.” It's been rumored that in the brew house built behind her house at a later date, she also used the rye to make whiskey, but since she had a reputation for sobriety, it was most likely for purposes of hospitality and medicinal uses that she brewed it.
She stripped the ear of corn that had been a gift from John Estaugh, and planted the kernels in the newly tilled soil behind her house, looking forward to seeing the tall, silky plant that he had described, and the giver no doubt crossed her mind as she worked.
After visiting friends from London who had relocated to Philadelphia, they made another stop at Burlington to see friends at the Meeting there. Then they hired a river boatman to take them to their new home. The mouth of the Cooper River is almost directly across the Delaware River from the large oak tree where Penn had signed his treaty with the Natives, and what a thrill it must have been for Elizabeth to see this natural monument that had played such a major role in her childhood games. Along the river they saw people who were living in caves and lean-tos along the banks, newcomers who were having a hard time getting established, and while it tore at Elizabeth's heart to see such human suffering, it reaffirmed to her that her call to serve was clear and necessary. The boatman warned of desperados and Natives in the thick woods along the banks of the Cooper, but Elizabeth was unafraid, certain that some Divine force would protect her from harm, and that certainty lent a serenity and steadfastness to her presence that served her well in the coming years. As she later said, when someone asked if she weren't afraid of some of the strangers who would appear at her door to seek shelter, "Perfect Love Casteth out Fear."
The pleasant but modest house sat on a knoll 150 yards back from the water, and after settling in. Elizabeth was beside herself with excitement, and unlike Hannah, who fell off to sleep at the first opportunity, she was wakeful the whole night, enchanted by the unfamiliar song of the whippoorwill. The next morning she rose early and went outside, and upon seeing her verdant, unblemished surroundings was overcome with emotion. As one early account tells it:
"She dropped on her knees, and with an outburst of prayer exclaimed fervently, "O Father, how beautiful hast thou made this earth!"
While her surroundings may have been heavenly, her situation presented many, more earthly challenges, but she proved herself equal to the task. She made fast friends with the local Natives, who saw her guileless nature and openness as a sign of her trustworthiness. The house was at that time three miles from the nearest neighbor, but word of the newcomer spread surprisingly fast, and when visitors would come by, in addition to being treated to Elizabeth’s famous hospitality, they would be peppered with practical questions. She asked what kind of grain was most likely to be successfully planted in that locale, and when told rye did well there, said" Then I shall eat rye bread.” It's been rumored that in the brew house built behind her house at a later date, she also used the rye to make whiskey, but since she had a reputation for sobriety, it was most likely for purposes of hospitality and medicinal uses that she brewed it.
She stripped the ear of corn that had been a gift from John Estaugh, and planted the kernels in the newly tilled soil behind her house, looking forward to seeing the tall, silky plant that he had described, and the giver no doubt crossed her mind as she worked.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Two Elizabeths Chapter 4
The story of Elizabeth Haddon and John Estaugh is so charming and enchanting that it was immortalized by one of our great Romantic poets, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, in his poem "Elizabeth." from the collection" Tales of a Wayside Inn." Its popularity can be demonstrated by the familiarity of one of its lines today. 150 years after its publication. "Ships that pass in the Night."
The first years' harvest and preparations for winter were successful, and news of the new immigrant spread, along with a reputation for her generosity and hospitality. She had increased her knowledge of herbal medicine from her Native friends, and traded with them her knowledge on the subject from her native country, and seeds interchanged, so that Elizabeth had quite an herbal dispensary growing behind her house. She used this growing knowledge to treat neighbors for miles around, and this practice continued for the rest of her life.
Wayfarers knew that if need be, her door was always open to share a warm hearth, or a hot meal, a bed for the night. And so it was that on one snowy night, two travelers knocked on her door, and although it had been several years since she'd seen him, she immediately recognized one as John Estaugh. Being who she was, there can be no doubt that she believed Providence had played a role in bringing him to her door.
An evening of pleasant conversation and news from England, concluded with Elizabeth taking John into the kitchen , to show him the ears of corn hanging there, and she told him that those and many more had come from the ear given by him to her family. She told him that she hoped his words of inspiration would fall on similarly fertile soil, and bear abundant fruit in the new world. Although John could command rapt attention and great admiration when addressing a Meeting House crowd, this talent didn't adapt him to being much of a ladies' man. He wasn’t one who could deftly show appreciation for Elizabeth's knack for poetry, or even recognize the flirtation for what it was, so they awkwardly said their goodnights.
The next morning found drifts of snow fallen overnight. Elizabeth put her two boarders to work, harnessing the oxen and clearing paths that would let her tend to her neighbors' needs, both the sick and those in need of food. Although John was unaccustomed to lots of physical labor, he jumped right in, and worked as hard as anyone at the task at hand. The rest of the day and evening he accompanied Elizabeth on her rounds, and although it wouldn't have taken much, she was impressed by his helpfulness, and by the comforting words he spoke to those in distress. So it was that on the next day, when he left to continue the mission he was on, and for the days that followed, she would find herself thinking of him more and more, as nothing can bind two people with a natural attraction to each other like time spent together in charitable works.
A couple months later, as preparations were being made for spring planting, John returned to Elizabeth's farm in the company of a number of other Quakers on a day trip to the Meeting at Salem, and She decided to go with them. Having decided on something, as we have seen, she was most capable of going after it single-mindedly, so after crossing Mantua Creek, and watering the horses, she feigned a problem with the saddle on her horse, so that John would stay behind the group to assist her. She seized this opportunity to propose marriage to him, using language that, in the same way as with her family, he would be least able to argue. "God has commanded me to love thee, John Estaugh."
Elizabeth was by all accounts a very attractive woman, and well to do, and as someone later noted, had John Estaugh been more worldly and wise, he would have been floored by the extraordinary proposal. But he gently told Elizabeth, in the only way that she could have accepted, that he was bound to complete the mission he was on, but that, upon his return to England, he would give it his most solemn consideration. Neither gave much weight to the fact that she was wealthy, and he was, by calling, a man of simpler means, or to the social impropriety of her proposal to him. Upon his return to England, and with or without counsel, he determined that Elizabeth's offer was a great gift indeed, and upon his return two months later, they were married in Quaker fashion. This involves merely sitting together at Meeting, and near the end stating, for all to hear, their intention to be kind and faithful to one another. And so began a long marriage in service to others and with great affection for one another.
The first years' harvest and preparations for winter were successful, and news of the new immigrant spread, along with a reputation for her generosity and hospitality. She had increased her knowledge of herbal medicine from her Native friends, and traded with them her knowledge on the subject from her native country, and seeds interchanged, so that Elizabeth had quite an herbal dispensary growing behind her house. She used this growing knowledge to treat neighbors for miles around, and this practice continued for the rest of her life.
Wayfarers knew that if need be, her door was always open to share a warm hearth, or a hot meal, a bed for the night. And so it was that on one snowy night, two travelers knocked on her door, and although it had been several years since she'd seen him, she immediately recognized one as John Estaugh. Being who she was, there can be no doubt that she believed Providence had played a role in bringing him to her door.
An evening of pleasant conversation and news from England, concluded with Elizabeth taking John into the kitchen , to show him the ears of corn hanging there, and she told him that those and many more had come from the ear given by him to her family. She told him that she hoped his words of inspiration would fall on similarly fertile soil, and bear abundant fruit in the new world. Although John could command rapt attention and great admiration when addressing a Meeting House crowd, this talent didn't adapt him to being much of a ladies' man. He wasn’t one who could deftly show appreciation for Elizabeth's knack for poetry, or even recognize the flirtation for what it was, so they awkwardly said their goodnights.
The next morning found drifts of snow fallen overnight. Elizabeth put her two boarders to work, harnessing the oxen and clearing paths that would let her tend to her neighbors' needs, both the sick and those in need of food. Although John was unaccustomed to lots of physical labor, he jumped right in, and worked as hard as anyone at the task at hand. The rest of the day and evening he accompanied Elizabeth on her rounds, and although it wouldn't have taken much, she was impressed by his helpfulness, and by the comforting words he spoke to those in distress. So it was that on the next day, when he left to continue the mission he was on, and for the days that followed, she would find herself thinking of him more and more, as nothing can bind two people with a natural attraction to each other like time spent together in charitable works.
A couple months later, as preparations were being made for spring planting, John returned to Elizabeth's farm in the company of a number of other Quakers on a day trip to the Meeting at Salem, and She decided to go with them. Having decided on something, as we have seen, she was most capable of going after it single-mindedly, so after crossing Mantua Creek, and watering the horses, she feigned a problem with the saddle on her horse, so that John would stay behind the group to assist her. She seized this opportunity to propose marriage to him, using language that, in the same way as with her family, he would be least able to argue. "God has commanded me to love thee, John Estaugh."
Elizabeth was by all accounts a very attractive woman, and well to do, and as someone later noted, had John Estaugh been more worldly and wise, he would have been floored by the extraordinary proposal. But he gently told Elizabeth, in the only way that she could have accepted, that he was bound to complete the mission he was on, but that, upon his return to England, he would give it his most solemn consideration. Neither gave much weight to the fact that she was wealthy, and he was, by calling, a man of simpler means, or to the social impropriety of her proposal to him. Upon his return to England, and with or without counsel, he determined that Elizabeth's offer was a great gift indeed, and upon his return two months later, they were married in Quaker fashion. This involves merely sitting together at Meeting, and near the end stating, for all to hear, their intention to be kind and faithful to one another. And so began a long marriage in service to others and with great affection for one another.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Two Elizabeths Chapter 5
Elizabeth and John did not actively pursue the establishment of what was to become the busy little town of Haddonfield. That was made almost inevitable by other events beyond her control.
The first was when the General Assembly of West Jersey, seated at Burlington, decreed in 1681 that a road would be constructed between Perth Amboy and Salem along the path of the Indian trails that wended their way through the thick forest. Ten men from Salem and ten from Burlington were enlisted to do the work, and although in places it was little more than a bridle path, land travel between the north and the south was then possible, and although travel by boat between Salem and Burlinton was quite easy on the Delaware River, the road connected other smaller settlements in the interior, including my town of Woodbury (settled in the 1680’s), Swedesboro, Mickleton and others. The road between Woodbury and Salem remains a two lane road that follows pretty closely the original route, and many of the oldest buildings in the area are located along the road.
It also passed quite closly to Elizabeth Haddon’s property. Where it crossed the Cooper River happened to be at the limit of its navigability, so it happened that goods shipped by boat from Philadelphia and headed to settlers along the highway passed through that particular location. It was a natural center of commerce on a small scale.
West Jersey has been called the first Quaker colony by some historians, in spite of early settlements by the Swedes in Swedesboro and Salem. This was a result of the purchase of most of the land by two Quakers in England in the late 1600’s. One of them became insolvent, and a couple years later, when the other one died, the whole property was put in trust, administered by none other than William Penn. Among his other talents and accomplishments, he turned out to be quite the real estate agent as well. He divided the land into 1,000 parcels, and sold them to his Quaker acquaintances, including John Haddon, who ended up buying several, eventually.
Elizabeth made two return trips to England, and on her return from the second, she brought a deed for an acre of land along King’s Highway, as a gift to the community, and for the purpose of building a Meeting House. The combined effect of the area being a social center, as well as a center of commerce, made its development as a prominent town inevitable, as soon various merchants and tradesmen set up shop along King’s Highway to take advantage of the traffic and visibility.
Elizabeth and John built a larger house, with the expectation that John Haddon would eventually bring the rest of the family to live. But that never happened. Elizabeth served as the secretary of the Meeting for the remainder of her life, over forty years. She also managed the estate, and continued until her death to tend to the sickly or the needy in her vicinity, often daily.
John Estaugh managed his father=in-laws land holdings here, and continued to do missionary work on occasion. It was on one of these missions, to the Caribbean island of Tortola, that he became ill while attending a funeral in the rain, and died within a couple of days.
No words can describe her affection for, and attachment to him better than her own. She prefaced the publication of his last sermon with these words:
Since it pleased Divine Providence so highly to favor me with being the near companion of this dear worthy, I must give some small account of him. Few, if any in the married state, ever lived in sweeter harmony than we did. He was a pattern of moderation in all things ; not lifted up in any enjoyments, nor cast down at disappointments. A man endowed with many good gifts, which rendered him very agreeable to his friends, and much more to me, his wife, to whom his memory is most dear and precious.''
The first was when the General Assembly of West Jersey, seated at Burlington, decreed in 1681 that a road would be constructed between Perth Amboy and Salem along the path of the Indian trails that wended their way through the thick forest. Ten men from Salem and ten from Burlington were enlisted to do the work, and although in places it was little more than a bridle path, land travel between the north and the south was then possible, and although travel by boat between Salem and Burlinton was quite easy on the Delaware River, the road connected other smaller settlements in the interior, including my town of Woodbury (settled in the 1680’s), Swedesboro, Mickleton and others. The road between Woodbury and Salem remains a two lane road that follows pretty closely the original route, and many of the oldest buildings in the area are located along the road.
It also passed quite closly to Elizabeth Haddon’s property. Where it crossed the Cooper River happened to be at the limit of its navigability, so it happened that goods shipped by boat from Philadelphia and headed to settlers along the highway passed through that particular location. It was a natural center of commerce on a small scale.
West Jersey has been called the first Quaker colony by some historians, in spite of early settlements by the Swedes in Swedesboro and Salem. This was a result of the purchase of most of the land by two Quakers in England in the late 1600’s. One of them became insolvent, and a couple years later, when the other one died, the whole property was put in trust, administered by none other than William Penn. Among his other talents and accomplishments, he turned out to be quite the real estate agent as well. He divided the land into 1,000 parcels, and sold them to his Quaker acquaintances, including John Haddon, who ended up buying several, eventually.
Elizabeth made two return trips to England, and on her return from the second, she brought a deed for an acre of land along King’s Highway, as a gift to the community, and for the purpose of building a Meeting House. The combined effect of the area being a social center, as well as a center of commerce, made its development as a prominent town inevitable, as soon various merchants and tradesmen set up shop along King’s Highway to take advantage of the traffic and visibility.
Elizabeth and John built a larger house, with the expectation that John Haddon would eventually bring the rest of the family to live. But that never happened. Elizabeth served as the secretary of the Meeting for the remainder of her life, over forty years. She also managed the estate, and continued until her death to tend to the sickly or the needy in her vicinity, often daily.
John Estaugh managed his father=in-laws land holdings here, and continued to do missionary work on occasion. It was on one of these missions, to the Caribbean island of Tortola, that he became ill while attending a funeral in the rain, and died within a couple of days.
No words can describe her affection for, and attachment to him better than her own. She prefaced the publication of his last sermon with these words:
Since it pleased Divine Providence so highly to favor me with being the near companion of this dear worthy, I must give some small account of him. Few, if any in the married state, ever lived in sweeter harmony than we did. He was a pattern of moderation in all things ; not lifted up in any enjoyments, nor cast down at disappointments. A man endowed with many good gifts, which rendered him very agreeable to his friends, and much more to me, his wife, to whom his memory is most dear and precious.''
Friday, August 21, 2009
Salem Municipal Building Restoration, Salem, NJ
In 2000, while working for Restoration Carpentry, I was given the assignment of Lead Carpenter/Project Manager on a job in Salem, NJ. It was funded with a matching funds grant from the NJ Histric Trust and the City of Salem, and was conducted in accordance withThe Secretary of the Interior’s Standards for the Treatment of Historic Properties.
It involved a restoration of an old bank building, which had been acquired by the city in 1926. Ask any local, and they will tell you the story of the moving of the building in 1926, from main St, around the corner to where it sits today. There are pictures of the moving process, which involved setting the building on rollers, and pulling it a couple inches a day with a block and tackle attached to a single draft horse, or maybe I should say drafted horse, since I'm sure he didn't volunteer. Looking at the size of the building, and its brick and stone construction, it boggles the mind, and thus has entered local lore aided by the fact that the bank never closed during this process, customers would just have to walk a couple more inches every day to get in. Over the years it had been adapted for the city's use as a dispensary of soulless bureaucracy, an office for the collection of taxes and water bills. When I arrived to begin the demolition phase, the space was filled with cubicles, a counter with glass partitions, flourescent lighting, and linoleum floors. Although one could tell from the exterior that this was an architectural gem, much of the interior evidence of that was not immediately apparent. The 5 ft high wainscot had been painted with 4 or 5 coats of ugly brown paint , as had been the 2 beautiful fireplaces and all the windows and doors. The magificent crown molding, the most elaborate I have seen, had been painted white, disguising its detail.
As the demolition progressed, the original beauty became abundantly clear. On disassembling the service counter, I found that it had been built upon the original teller counter from the bank, covered, of course with formica and more paint. As these were not part of the new plan for the space, I removed the white oak cabinets, but saved a section to adapt for use in my kitchen, where they sit today.
Teller cabinets relocated to my kitchen. The panelling on the back side(facing us) mimics the original (on the end to the right) with strip oak flooring ripped to dimension and applied over oak plywood.
It involved a restoration of an old bank building, which had been acquired by the city in 1926. Ask any local, and they will tell you the story of the moving of the building in 1926, from main St, around the corner to where it sits today. There are pictures of the moving process, which involved setting the building on rollers, and pulling it a couple inches a day with a block and tackle attached to a single draft horse, or maybe I should say drafted horse, since I'm sure he didn't volunteer. Looking at the size of the building, and its brick and stone construction, it boggles the mind, and thus has entered local lore aided by the fact that the bank never closed during this process, customers would just have to walk a couple more inches every day to get in. Over the years it had been adapted for the city's use as a dispensary of soulless bureaucracy, an office for the collection of taxes and water bills. When I arrived to begin the demolition phase, the space was filled with cubicles, a counter with glass partitions, flourescent lighting, and linoleum floors. Although one could tell from the exterior that this was an architectural gem, much of the interior evidence of that was not immediately apparent. The 5 ft high wainscot had been painted with 4 or 5 coats of ugly brown paint , as had been the 2 beautiful fireplaces and all the windows and doors. The magificent crown molding, the most elaborate I have seen, had been painted white, disguising its detail.
As the demolition progressed, the original beauty became abundantly clear. On disassembling the service counter, I found that it had been built upon the original teller counter from the bank, covered, of course with formica and more paint. As these were not part of the new plan for the space, I removed the white oak cabinets, but saved a section to adapt for use in my kitchen, where they sit today.
Teller cabinets relocated to my kitchen. The panelling on the back side(facing us) mimics the original (on the end to the right) with strip oak flooring ripped to dimension and applied over oak plywood.
Pulling up layer after layer of linoleum and underlayment, I eventually reached the diagonally laid maple floor, which unfortunately had sections missing and many nail holes. I was able to salvage enough from the back section of the building to patch in the front, so that now, the main room has its original floor.
Buttonwood Painting, of Philadelphia, was hired as a subcontractor to do the laborious work of stripping the paint from all the woodwork, and a look at the extent and detail of that work, including the little wooden medallions every few inches along the wainscot, and the intricate carvings on the fireplaces,
can only begin to tell you what those guys were up against. As this was a historical job, no torches could be used, so it was repeated applications of chemical strippers that got the job done.
*****************************
Pieces of the woodwork had been cut out at various places over the years to accommodate electrical or mechanical needs, and it was part of my job to patch these with matching species, leaving as much of the original in place as was possible.
The large windows (4+ft square per sash) were stripped, then I dissassembled them, reattached the sash weights, which had long been lost in their pockets, and rehung them. They operate now with two fingers, even though they weigh about 80 lbs each
The gorgeous pocket doors had been stuck in their pockets long ago and forgotten, but have been restored to their former glory, and are used regularly by the buildings's occupants.
I worked from an elegantly drawn set of plans, created by Philip Scott, of Kise, Straw, and Kolotner. Philip designed the desks which would be used by the City Council in their twice monthly meeting.
We had the large cap molding milled, and the rest was built on site by me. I made the tongue in groove panels by adding a bead to the edge of standard #1 oak flooring with one of my antique molding planes.
The original planned use for the building was as a courtroom, but it was decided that there were too many windows to be appropriate for that. So it was designed to be used as the City Council Room. There are two offices on the second floor, that several city officials told me they hoped to move into, however, and I think as a testament to how well the job turned out, the state senator and the state representative from the district moved their offices there. The first floor is now also used as the welcome center for the city of Salem, and is open for tours.
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