Cobblestones Home : Colonial Lives : The Journal of Mary Dyer
The Journal of Mary Dyer
by Barb
I am either wise or foolish. I am going back to Boston,
where I will surely meet my demise. I desire the repeal of the wicked
law that is against God’s people. Why should I deal with the pain and
suffering of living with this law? I must become a martyr, I must die
for my religion. I will soon see if I am wise or dim.
 Click play to hear my story |
William came home today with birch bark, a handsome quill, and a weary face. He thought I should start writing a journal, so I do not forget the lessons. He has taught me to read and write, which explains the birch bark and quill. He later confided in me that his weary face was due to a customer who was thoroughly harassing him because of my Quaker beliefs. William was angered by the remark, naturally, but, being patient, he merely went on making the handsome hat the rude man came in for. William is slowly becoming a large political figure for Rhode Island, and I think he is quite keen on giving up being a milliner. I was extremely impressed, for it takes a very patient person to withhold his anger. Also, he is Puritan, so it is absurd that he must deal with it. I myself, have had to deal with a few particularly nasty comments also, such as "monster,” which the people most enjoy because I birthed a stillborn daughter who was severely deformed. Whatever kind of nasty comment, though, can make anyone ill-tempered.
I would rather deal with a harsh taunt than the Puritans. They have this foolish notion that anyone not Puritan is ungodly, or even devilish. Sadly, because most people of power are Puritan, there are many unfair laws against us Quakers. I do not understand why, and I probably never will. I await the time someone will defy these laws. Not just for us Quakers, but for Catholics, Baptists, and even the newly arrived Jewish people. These laws must be stopped. We must band together, all religions, to create a peaceful new world. We all need friends in spirit.
I admit to myself , given my strong opinions, that eventually I will be that person who defies the wretched laws we must deal with daily. Sadly, I also have a strong feeling that an equally wretched thing is going to happen, at some point, within a matter of months. I must not think of that now; there is supper to be fixed.
July 2, 1657
I was correct. I now know that the horrid event I predicted has come to pass. John Endicott, Governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, made a law that forces all Quakers to be jailed, whipped, or beaten if they are found preaching in the Colony.
This law was made just before William and I moved to New Haven. As I did not know of this law, I went to Boston with my friend, Anne, to preach the Good Society of Friends’ word. Immediately we were put into prison, and I am in my cell as I write. I am not going to stop preaching though, for the wretched Puritans must learn that they are not figureheads for God, they are merely in denial. They are afraid of all things not Puritan.
July 3, 1657
It is miserable in prison. With every dull moment, Anne and I grow more weary and lose more of our energy. Nevertheless, with every stroke of my quill, I find sight of what is important. Mayhaps the bitter cold is endless, the darkness, forever. I know the bread is gnat infested, the beer stale. But, I am finding inner strength I never knew I had amid this hardship. I trust in God and am sure Anne and I will be freed, and when we are, we will open the eyes of the heartless Puritans. I will survive. I must stop writing now. It is time to pray.
July 4, 1657
It is Sunday. I must rest, as well as talk to Anne about escape. I will write my plan tomorrow.
July 5, 1657
Anne and I are attempting to take the boards off the “windows” in our cell. (Really, they are merely holes in the wall, with bars across them.) We want to slip a note through the bars to dear William, but I doubt we will be able to get the boards off. If that does not work, we’re going to try to give the note to one of the nicer sentinels. His name is Adryan Smyth, and he has been sneaking us birch bark and bits of food, so he might be able to give the note I made to a fellow Quaker. The letter explains that I am in prison, and that I need William to help Anne and me get out, but we are not sure how Adryan will do this in secret, or even if he will help us at all. I hope he does, for the boards won’t budge. I hope we get out of prison.
July 25, 1657
I nearly forgot to write in you. I shall fill you in with all the information about how I got out of prison. One week after I wrote the letter to William, I was able to give it to the sentinel, who gladly took the letter. It took four days for him to get it to a Quaker friend without being noticed. In another week, my friend Elizabeth Penniwistle (who had the letter), was able to secretly get the letter to William. Within two weeks, William had “busted” the doors of John Endicott’s house, and within a day after that, John agreed to release Anne and me, under the circumstances that we must never preach in the Massachusetts Bay Colony again. William was glad to have us home, but he is tiring of Anne and me getting into predicaments. Regardless, we must look the bloody law in the face, and come back to preach in Boston. For now, though, I must stay in Rhode Island.
October 31, 1658
Horrid news! John Endicott has made a more aggressive law in effect against Quakers. We could be hanged if we go to the Massachusetts Bay Colony again. I must go to the market, for there is bread to buy, and there is not anything worth writing now.
July 15, 1659
This afternoon I am going to sneak out of New Haven. I will be riding in my newly bought carriage, and I will be going to visit Marmaduke Stephenson and William Robinson, Quaker friends of ours who are currently in prison. I am, in fact, looking this bloody law in the face, and, sadly, will be lucky to get out alive. But, if it helps make the Puritans realize what wrong they have done to us Quakers, then it is worth it. I must ready the supplies we need for the trip now.
August 26, 1659
I am writing in a cell once again. I can’t say I’m surprised I’m here. I defied the laws of the land. My worry is not that I’ll be hanged (which is a large possibility) ; it is that I will ruin dear William’s reputation because of my defiance of the law. But I must not think of that. Mayhaps I should rest.
I am getting used to the lack of food, drink, and light. If this was meant to scare us, than we have nothing to worry about. Though, is it really that horrendous to visit a few friends in prison? None of this makes much sense to me. I mustn’t think of too much right now, for I have got enough on my mind.
September 12, 1659
We were freed. We were freed! Sure enough, we got out of prison. It will be a death sentence if we ever return to the Massachusetts Bay Colony.
October 31, 1659
Yes, I did go back to Boston. Yes, I did get caught. And, sure enough, I came out alive! It all started after we were found preaching on October 19, and we were brought to the General court. We were investigated by the general public and on October 27, John Endicott, the big arse, sentenced my friends to death. Thanks to my good friends’ plea, and the public (to some extent), I was once again spared of death. I will not stop preaching though. I will die for my religion if I have to.
May 14, 1660
I am either wise or foolish. I am going back to Boston, where I will surely meet my demise. I desire the repeal of the wicked law that is against God’s people. Why should I deal with the pain and suffering of living with this law? I must become a martyr; I must die for my religion. I will soon see if I am wise or dim.
May 31, 1660
I am going to be hanged today. Dear William is trying to get me out of this, claiming that I am mad. I cannot completely blame him. He has always been Puritan, even after he married me, and this all must be confusing for him. Sadly, he is trying to do the impossible. I will be hanged, which is fine. I will be in paradise, in Heaven. William is trying so hard to get me out, though. After I die, this will be for him. I am not insane, I will be a 31 year old martyr, and it is time for me to go now. Goodbye.
Epilogue
Mary Dyer did in fact die later that day. Though it would take approximately 30 years for these sad deaths to stop occurring, Mary Dyer is still considered, the Quaker martyr. She was a symbol to the Puritans that death would not stop her from justice. Luckily, as the years went by, church and state were separated, and, thanks to the 8th Amendment, there are no cruel or unusual punishments allowed.