The Story of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson

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The Plaque at Redemption Rock, the site of the release of Mary Rowlandson.  This plaque was placed by members of the Hoar family. Click on it for a larger view.

From the Preface to the 1930 edition.

Though settled more than ten years previously, the corporate life of Lancaster, Massachusetts, dates from May 28, 1653.  Now that the Tercentenary of the Massachusetts Bay Colony is being celebrated, it is thought a fitting time for the republication of the famous Narrative of Captivity written by Mary Rowlandson, the devout helpmate of Lancaster's first ordained minister. Her simply told tale was the earliest literary composition by a citizen of the town to win the distinction of print.  It is also an invaluable contribution to early New England history; it is an authentic and graphic contemporary delineation of the manners and customs of the primitive children of the soil from whom our ancestors relentlessly wrested their beautiful and beloved heritage in order to enrich us and our posterity; it is an eloquently pathetic record of grave perils bravely encountered, and terrible sufferings patiently borne with an unswerving faith in the wisdom and mercy of an overruling Providence.  First issued from the press in 1682, it at once commanded attention in Old as well as in New England.

Excerpts from the book:

   On the tenth of February, 1675, came the Indians in great numbers upon Lancaster. At length they came and beset our own house and quickly it was the dolefulest day that ever mine eyes saw.  They shot against the house so that the bullets seemed to fly like hail; and quickly they wounded one man  among us, then another, and then a third. About two hours they  had been about the house before they prevailed to fire it (which they did with flax and hemp which they brought out of the barn, there being no defence about the house, only two flankers at two opposite corners, and one of them not finished).
   Now is the dreadful hour come, that I have often heard of but  now  mine eyes see it.  Some in our house were fighting for their lives, others wallowing in their blood, the house on fire over out heads, and the bloody heathen ready to knock us on the head if we stirred out.  Now might we hear mothers and children crying out for themselves, and one another, Lord, what shall we do? Then I took  my children to go forth and leave the house; but as soon as we came to the door and appeared, the Indians shot so thick that the bullets rattled against the house, as if one had taken an handful of stones and threw them, so that we sere fain to give back. But out we must go, the fire increasing and coming behind us and the Indians gaping before us with their guns, spears, and hatchets, to devour us.  No sooner were we out but my brother-in-law fell down dead. The bullets flying thick, one went through my side, and the same through the bowels and hand of  my dear child in my arms. Thus we were butchered by those merciless heathens. The Indians laid hold of us, pulling me one way and the children another.
   I had often before this said that if the Indians come, I should choose to be killed 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 ravenous bears, than that  moment to end my days.
   Now away we must go with those barbarous creatures, with our bodies wounded and bleeding, and our hearts no less than our bodies.  About a mile we went that night, up upon a hill within sight of the town, where they intended to lodge,  To add to the dolefulness of the former day, and the dismalness of the present night, my thoughts ran upon my losses and sad bereaved condition.  All was gone, my husband gone, (at least separated from me, he being in the Bay; and to add to my grief, the Indians told me they would kill him as he came homeward) my children gone, my relations and friends gone, our house and home and all our comforts within door and without, all was gone, except my life, and I knew not but the next moment that might go too.  There remained nothing to me but one poor wounded babe, and it seemed at present worse than death, that it was in such a pitiful condition, bespeaking compassion, and I had no refreshing for it, nor suitable things to revive it.
   But now, the next morning, I must turn my back upon the town, and travel with them into the vast and desolate wilderness, I knew no whither.  It is not my tongue nor pen can express the sorrows of my heart, and bitterness of my spirit.

Mary Rowlandson would travel with her Indian captors for three months before our ancestor, John Hoar, would arrange for her ranson.  He was greatly respected by the Indians because of his many friendly services to them.
~Linda~

   Then came Tom and Peter with the second letter from the Council about the captives (Tom Dublet and Peter Conway were Christian Indians of Nashobah, who were persuaded to serve as messengers to the hostile sachems, seeking the terms upon which they would release the captives. ~Linda~)  Though they were Indians I took them by  the hand and burst out into tears.  My heart was so full that I could  not speak to them; but recovering myself, I asked them how my husband did, and all my friends and acquaintances.  They said, " They are all very well, but melancholy,"  They brought me two biscuits and a pound of tobacco.  The tobacco I quickly gave away. When the letter was come, the sagamores met to consult about the captives and called me to them to inquire how much  my husband would give to redeem me. Now knowing that all we had was destroyed by the Indians, I was in a great strait.  I thought if I should speak but a little it would be slighted and hinder the matter; if of a great sum, I knew not where it would be procured.  Yet at a venture I said twenty pounds, yet desired them to take less. But they would not hear of that, but sent that message to Boston, that for twenty pounds I should be redeemed.  It was a praying-Indian that wrote their letter for them.

On a Sabbath-Day, came Mr. John Hoar, together with the two aforementioned Indians, Tom and Peter, with their third letter from the Council.  When they came, I was abroad; they presently called me in and bade me sit down and not stir.  then they catched up their guns and away they ran, as if an enemy had been at hand, and the guns went off apace.  I manifested some great trouble and they asked me what was the matter.  I told them I thought they had killed the Englishman, (for they had in the meantime informed me that an Englishman had come.)  They said no; they shot over his horse, and under and before his horse; and they pushed him this way and that way, at their pleasure, showing what they could do.  Then they let them come to their wigwams.  When they had talked their fill to him, they suffered me to go to him.  We asked each other of our welfare, and how my husband did and all my friends.  He told me they were all well and would be glad to see me.  I now asked them whether I should go home with Mr. Hoar.  They answered no, one and another of them, and it being night we laid down with that answer.  In the morning Mr. Hoar invited the sagamores to dinner, but when we went to get it ready, we found that they had stolen the greater part of the provisions Mr. Hoar had brought, in the night. And we may see the wonderful power of God in that one passage, in that when there was such a great number of Indians together and so greedy of a little food, and on English there but Mr. Hoar and myself, that they did not knock us in the head and take what we had.  But instead of doing us any mischief they seemed to be ashamed of the fact and said it were some Machit Indians (That is bad Indians.) that did it.  Mr. Hoar called them betimes to dinner, but they ate very little, they being so busy in dressing themselves, and getting ready for their dance. At night I asked again if I should go home.  They all as one said no, except my husband come for me.  When we were lain down my master went out of the wigwam, and by and by sent in an Indian named James the Printer, who told Mr. Hoar that my master would let me to tomorrow if he would let him have one pint of liquors. Mr. Hoar called his own Indians, Tom and Peter, and bid them go and see whether he would promise it before them three, and if he would, he would have it; which he did, and he had it. My master, after he had had his drink, quickly came ranting into the wigwam again, and called for Mr. Hoar, drinking to him and saying he was a good man, and then again he would say, hang him, rogue.  Being almost drunk he would drink to him and yet presently say he should be hanged.  Then he called for me.  I trembled to hear him, yet I was fain to go to him, and he drank to me showing in incivility.  He was the first Indian I saw drunk all the while that I was amongst them. On Tuesday morning they called their General Court (as they call it) to consult and determine whether I should go home or no.  And they all as one man did seemingly consent to it, that I should go home, except Philip, who would not come among them.

Thus hath the Lord answered my poor desire and the many earnest requests of others up up unto God for me.  In my travels an  Indian came to me and told me if I were willing he and hew squaw would run away and go home along with me.  I told him no; I was not willing to run away but desired to wait God's time that I might go home quietly and without fear. And now God hath granted me my desire.  O the wonderful power of God that I have seen and the experience that I have had.  I have been in the midst of those roaring lions and savage bears that feared neither God nor man nor the devil, by night and day, alone and in company, sleeping all sorts together, and yet not one of them ever offered me the least abuse of unchastity to me in word or action. Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, whom he hath redeemed  from the hand of the enemy, especially that I should have come away in the midst of so many hundreds of enemies, quietly and peacefully, and not a dog moving his tongue.  So I took my leave of them and in coming along my heart melted into tears more than all the while I was with them and I was almost swallowed up with the thoughts that ever I should go home again.  About the sun going down, Mr. Hoar and myself and the two Indians came to Lancaster and a solemn sight it was to me.  There had I lived many comfortable years amongst my relations and neighbors, and now not one Christian to be seen nor one house left standing.