Week 7 - Letters and Diaries

From the time I was around nine years old, I received a diary every year for Christmas from my mother. After the first few days of each new year, the pages remained blank. I guess I just didn't have anything to say, or I was more like my paternal grandmother, who chose to just tell the stories rather than write about them (yes, I'm well aware that condition has cured itself). My mother and her mother both began keeping a diary when they were around twelve years old. Year after year, their diaries were filled with weather reports, visits to the beauty shop, costs of a loaf of bread/dozen eggs, and notation about the good (and bad) things their children did on that specific day. These diaries had something written on every.single.page until close to the end of their lives. During the first few days after my birth, my dad was instructed to write a few lines as my mom wasn't up to it and there was no way her OCD would allow a blank page. I don't know what she was thinking. She knew my dad. In his entertaining and amusing way, he regaled the diary with his exploits (acts of selflessness and sacrifice) - the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, and of course, congratulating himself on what a remarkable job he was doing by tending to our family. My mother and grandmother both had immaculate handwriting. My grandmother's script was more like the cursive we learned in grade school, where my mother's hand was sweet and petite with a slight left slant. Not to brag, but I have nice handwriting. If, however, I'm tired or in a hurry, my handwriting may or may not be legible and could possibly be deemed chicken scratch. I have no doubt that my mom or grandmother never wrote in their diaries when they were tired or in a hurry. Unlike the mundane events of their everyday lives, each of them wrote an autobiography later in life that reflected the full gamut of emotions, tragedies, hardships and loves they had experienced. Following in their footsteps, I have started one of my own, but it remains to be seen whether it will ever be finished.

Prior to the internet, genealogists had to travel or write letters to obtain information. Whether it be letters to repositories to ask for records, or to a relative who may have known members of the particular lines you're researching, this was how research was undertaken. I have a shoebox full of letter address to my Aunt Dorothy (my dad's sister) when she became interested in family history in the 1960s and 1970s. These letters are from cousins of all ranges - 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and more, who responded to her inquiries, with names, dates and places they had accumulated on the paternal side of my tree. This information has been invaluable to me throughout my own research. In attempting to connect with descendants of these cousins, I discovered that only a handful of them carried on the genealogy work of their branch of the family. It pains me to think about what happened to all that research.

In my file drawers are some letters (a few original, mostly copies) between ancestors and their families and friends. These are letters from uncle who were serving overseas during World War II, a great-uncle serving in France during World War I, and even a few written during the Civil War. There are some telling of floods in Pennsylvania; drought during the Dust Bowl in Oklahoma; illness; tragedy; deaths; and then there are those happy ones (in most cases, anyway) announcing births and marriages. The majority, however, are simply chit-chat, sharing the daily routine life of the sender.

I have a rather extraordinary collection (copies) of letters that concern my fifth great-grandparents, Michael Hillegas and his wife, Henrietta. They lived in Philadelphia during the time of the Revolutionary War. Also living in Philadelphia, off and on, during this time was John Hancock and his wife, Dorothy (known as Dolly). As both of their husbands undoubtedly spent much time together, Henrietta and Dolly became fast friends and were neighbors. During the occupation of Philadelphia by General Howe, shortly after the Battle of Brandywine, the Hancock's returned to Boston and while I'm not certain where the Hillegas family had fled, upon their return they discovered their home had been ransacked. In a letter from Henrietta to Dolly Hancock, she tells that all the furniture was taken or destroyed. Pictures of Michael and Henrietta were saved by a gentleman who begged for them on their behalf. A large building, tables and back building were all torn down, and they also lost "hundreds of Pounds of musical instruments and books" including the family's organ which was hauled to the other end of town and "abused." Quite an optimist she surely must have been as she goes on to say, "I am sure we are happier that lost it, than they can be robbed us of it, and I live in hope that they will never have it in their power to rob us again."  

                                 

                                 

Henreitta's husband served mightily within the government of the new nation, and Henrietta did her part as well. She, along with a few dozen of her patrician friends, formed an organization that they called, "The Ladies Association of Philadelphia." Together, they raised funds to purchase fabric to sew shorts for the Continental Army ($200,000 in that time). For their efforts, General George Washington commended them in a letter that he penned on 13 February 1781. Addressed to Mrs. Francis, Mrs. Hillegas, Mrs. Clarkson, Mrs. Bache and Mrs. Blair, the letter commended them for their efforts. In the letter, General Washington wrote, "The contributions of the Association you represent, have exceeded what could have been expected, and the spirit that animated the members of it entitles them to an equal place, with any who have preceded them in the walk of female patriotism." I was not aware of this letter prior to my membership in the Daughters of the American Revolution, but I hope that my service within that organization would have made Henrietta proud.

When their daughter, Henrietta, married Joseph Anthony on 20 Decmeber 1785, they stayed in Michael's home for a short time before moving to their own home. While away on business in New York, Michael wrote them a letter on 3 February 1786:

My Dear Children:

By a letter received from my dearly beloved wife the day before yesterday, I find that you both quitted our house yesterday week, and moved to your habitation in Chestnut St. She, in her letter, expresses the great trial it was to her and Peggy, & the solemnity they experienced on the occasion. I am really of the opinion that had I been present, I should have felt nearly as they did. It is, however, no small comfort to me, and must be so to all the relations, as well as to both of you, that it is not like parting from each other to a great distance, as even in that case we must have submitted to the event, tho' the hardship would have been increased. Blessed be God, we are still of the same City, where we may continually see as well as comfort each other in this troublesome world, for so it has and will be called to the end thereof, notwithstanding what the vain and the giddy as well as some others may undertake to say to the contrary thereof. You will now, my dear children, permit me on this occasion (as you are entering into life, and like every other person to shift for yourselves,) to off to you a little, and I trust good advice, which I flatter myself will be received with the same love which dictates it, as flowing form the sincerely of my heart, assuring you, nevertheless, in the warmest and most affectionate manner, that I do this, more as a matter of duty, than any suspicion I harbour in my breast of the want to prudence in either of you, and therefore hope you'll consider it merely as a cautionary advice, both of you being young.

The love you bear each other is no way to be questioned or doubted, and I trust none of us suspect but that it will continue through life; but dear children, this love can never be better secured to yourselves than by having due and strict regard for Religion and the several duties thereof as handed down from our Blessed Redeemer and his Apostles; this undoubtedly will make life pass with sublimer pleasure, and give a true taste of things in this world as an anticipation of joys to come hereafter.

Next to this is to be considered all and every of the moral duties required of us, and with it economy. By economy we conduct our affairs (under the blessing of Heaven.) in such manner that at the year's end our temporal affairs may, if possible, be better than they were the year before, so as to enable us to help and assist the poor and indigent, as by Scripture is required of us to do.

In things of moment on thyself depend, Nor trust too far they servant or a friend; To private views thy friend may promise fair, And servants very seldom prove sincere. What can be done with care, perform to-day, Dangers not thought of, may attend delay. Thy future prospects all precarious are, And fortune is as fickle as she's fair; Nor trivial loss nor trivial gain despise, Molehills, if often heaped, to mountains rise; Weigh every small expense, and nothing waste, Farthings long saved, amount to pounds at last.

Under a fear that I have already tired your patience I must conclude with sincerely and fervently wishing you both every blessing Divine goodness will in his Providence shower down on you as well as all your dear connections,

And am with every sentiment of love, your affectionate Father, Michael Hillegas

Poignant words written 240 years go...words we might all need to take to heart.