Cobblestones Home : Colonial Lives : Memoir of Elizabeth Smith-Adams

Grandmother laid me on Mother’s chest, and walked into the other room. As I was laying there I remember it feeling as though mother had hot coals underneath her gown. I remember hearing her heartbeat quicken, then as it moved to a steady pace, my eyes started to close. The beat of her heart was gently lulling me to sleep. Suddenly, I heard a loud crackling noise in the fireplace and my eyes opened, the heartbeat stopped and my mother’s arms, which were gently resting on my back, fell to the sides of the bed.

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     Today I was cleaning out the barn when I came across the first vase my grandmother had ever made for me. Within moments, everything I had gone through since my mother’s death ran through my head.

   About 40 years ago my mother died. It was April 16, 1675, the day after her birthday. I was only five years old and, I remember the day as if it were yesterday. My mother had been sick for but a month, so my grandmother came to stay with me because she knew mother would pass soon. Grandmother laid me on Mother’s chest, and walked into the other room. As I was laying there I remember it feeling as though mother had hot coals underneath her gown. I remember hearing her heartbeat quicken, then as it moved to a steady pace, my eyes started to close. The beat of her heart was gently lulling me to sleep. Suddenly, I heard a loud crackling noise in the fireplace and my eyes opened, the heartbeat stopped and my mother’s arms, which were gently resting on my back, fell to the sides of the bed. Even though I was only five, I felt something was not right; I began to whimper as I carefully crept off my mother’s dead body.

    I wandered around the house which did not take long since our house was only made up of two rooms. I spotted grandmother sitting on our bed with prayer beads in her hand. I did not know what was going on at the time, but I knew it could not be good. As I rounded the corner of the bed I saw my grandmother’s face. I remember my grandmother’s face as being cheery, but this was the one day sorrow seemed to consume her. My memory seems to fade off past this point, but Grandmother told me I went and climbed in her lap, leaned my head into her neck and whispered, “It stopped.” Those were the only words I could get out before breaking into tears. My grandmother comforted me by rocking me back and forth and singing a song she used sing to my mother when she was a little girl. She told me many times how she tried to be strong and fight off the tears, but as she looked at me she could not help seeing my mother, tears then began to roll down her cheeks.

    My stomach rumbled, distracting me from my memory. As soon as I started to get up and walk back into the house to get lunch, the cold winter air hit my cheeks, and I then realized tears were in my eyes and on my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away and went to the kitchen to fix myself some venison stew. Though lunch was delightful it could not distract me from my horrible past.

    After my mother died I moved up to New York with my grandmother. My grandmother was a glass maker and was too busy to teach me, so my Aunt Sarah, who came to live with us from Salem, Massachusetts, taught me everything she learned in school. This was not much considering people did not believe women needed to learn as much as men. But my grandmother promised after my lessons with my aunt were over she would teach me how to be a glass maker just like her. My teachings were over in a few months, and Aunt Sarah moved back to Massachusetts.

    If you knew my grandmother, I would not even need to tell you if she kept her promise. Since you did not have the pleasure of knowing her I will tell you that, indeed, she did keep her promise. She taught me everything she ever knew about making glass; such as to make glass you melt sand, which usually came from the shores of Virginia. I also learned how to make things out of glass like: bottles, window panes, beads and many other things. Grandmother taught me that there are two main types of glass: flint glass and soda lime glass. She taught me that glass is made in a furnace, which up until I was 12, I was not allowed to go near. I was not very happy about that, because I always thought using the furnace was the most interesting part. Yet, what took the longest to learn was when she taught me about all the tools used by glass makers. But, I still remember them all to this very day and could recite them if I ever needed to. After my grandmother’s great lessons I began helping her everyday at the shop, she gave me 10% of her profit. I was very proud to have learned such a useful trade by the age of 13.

    In 1685 when I was 15, I met a nice man named Henry Adams. My grandmother agreed he would be suitable husband. Henry was a blacksmith who worked down the road at his father’s shop; he was 16 when we first met.

    I was walking to the market to get sugar when I passed by the shop where Henry was working. He was not paying attention to his work, because he was looking at me. As I passed, he hit his finger with his hammer which caused his fingernail to fall off and his finger to split. His mother had passed away little time after mine, so he did not have anyone to care for his wound. Henry went to get help at the nearest apothecary, which was next door to my house. He was walking out of the apothecary when he saw me drawing water for a bath. He walked toward me pulling his horse, Annabelle, behind him. I blushed as I asked him if he was okay in which he responded by putting his hand behind his back and saying,” Yes, Miss.” From that day on I found myself wasting supplies just so I could walk by the blacksmith shop on the way to the market.

    Henry and I met a number of times secretly before confronting our elders. We married in 1688 when I was 18 and he was 19. My grandmother was a little upset that I wed so late, but she was happy it was to a man whose father owned a blacksmith shop. Henry and I loved each other very much. I conceived a child on September 12, 1688, however the child died about two weeks later because of improper delivery. This time was extremely sad for me and my husband, but we both had to go on with our jobs so we could support ourselves.

    In February, 1690, Henry was in Schenectady, NY when a large number of French and Indians who were sent by the Canadian governor, Frontenac, came into the village yelling, and attacked the entire village and some surroundings where my husband was said to be. The whole village was burned to the ground. We never knew whether Henry was one of the few who escaped, but we assumed he was either captured or massacred along with a little over 60 others. The saddest part was the French and Indians were sent to kill the Mohawks, but they killed my one true love as well.

    This battle started of all the commotion in the colonies and later lead to King William’s War. This war was made up of battles including one between Montreal and a naval expedition lead by Sir William Phipps who earlier that year, had captured Port Royal. Sir Phipps had about 2,000 men, but Frontenac kept them away away from Montreal. Phipps went to Quebec then returned to Boston; where people expressed disappointment that nothing effective happened. King William later made Phipps the governor of Massachusetts . The war continued for many wars with massacres in York, ME, Durham, NH, and Groton, MA.

    While the war was going on there was also a conspiracy boiling in 1692 in Salem, Massachusetts. My Aunt Sarah, who had taught me when I was younger, was accused of witchcraft along with 150 others, some of who my grandmother knew. The accusations ended in 20 executions, one being my aunts. The worst of all was one man, a little over 80, who was killed by the placing of stones over his body, crushing him until the weight was unbearable and he died. Others were placed in jail for a number of months. By the end of the year, all accusations had ceased and everything went back to normal in Massachusetts . It was the oddest thing. No one could explain the cause of this or why it suddenly ended. Things did not always make sense. All we knew was that it was a sad time for my family and things were just going to get worse.

    King William’s War finally ended in 1697 when a treaty was singed, allowing a truce to be called between the English and the French. The end of the war assured there was no hope of Henry’s return. To make matters worse my grandmother died in November of 1697 leaving me alone in a town full of memories with no companion except Annabelle II Henry’s, horse’s young. I decided I could no longer live in New York so I moved to Pennsylvania and started up my own glass making shop.

    All the troubles of the past may be done but they will always be alive in my heart. I’m hoping tragedy won’t strike again for a couple years. The shop is running better than ever now and Annabelle III is expecting soon. Please help her through a safe delivery and bless the newest member to come.

Epilogue

Elizabeth Smith-Adams never remarried or had any children. In 1720, five years after this memoir was told, Elizabeth died at the age of 50. Her barn caught fire and she and her horse were trapped inside.

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