Sunday, June 29, 2008

Susanna Eastman Swan



Susanna Eastman is the stuff of great family legend—a strong frontier woman who despite a number of trials, lived a long and respected life, even inspiring a commemorative poem written by a grand-daughter to teach the next generation about courage, grace and honor.

Susanna was born in 1673 in Haverhill (pronounced Hav-r‘ll), Massachusetts. She was the daughter of Philip Eastman whose father had immigrated on the ship “Confidence” in 1638. (Sidestory: on the ship’s manifest, Roger Eastman is listed as the servant of John Saunders, but family legend says that he was hiding his true rank for political reasons.)



Despite any rank, real or pretended, the family settled in Haverhill, an outpost on the edge of civilization and an area that was easy prey for Indians during King Phillip’s War. Philip Eastman and others were attacked on May 3, 1676. The details are hazy, but somehow Philip, her father, escaped. Although it can’t be verified, but family stories say that Susanna was captured by the Indians and trained as a “medicine woman.” There is no further history of her until 1693 when she reappears and marries Thomas Wood. The next year, she has a daughter also named Susanna.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of her Indian trouble. On March 15, 1697 the Indians returned. This time they burned the house, took Susanna again, and killed little Susanna and everyone else in the home. Thomas may have been captured and somehow escaped; in some way he survived, left the area, and died in 1714 in Woodstock.



Eventually the General Court arranged for a ship, the Province Galley, to go Casco Bay, to deal with the Indians and bring back anyone they could. Susannah returned on board the ship January 17, 1699. She had been captive for nearly 2 years.

In August of 1699 she married John Swan. But even then, the Indians weren’t through with her. It is said that they came in August 1708, looking especially for her as they wanted her knowledge of “medicine.” There are several versions of the assault, but the story we hear is that Susanna, thoroughly disliking anything to do with Indians by this time, was not about to be captured again. When she heard the attack begin, she armed herself with a spit from the fireplace. As an Indian brave opened the cabin door, Susanna grabbed the spit and ran him through. That, and possibly other efforts, seem to have repelled the attack.

Following that attack, she is supposed to have told her husband that they “must away” from there since the Indians were on her trail. So the family moved to Stonington, Connecticut, where they lived in relative peace.

As a side note, poor John Swan seems not to have fared too well in the family lore. He is represented as a bit of a bumbler. Once Susanna decided the family had to move out of Indian territory, everything was in an uproar on moving day. The big washtub was on the front porch, being used as a cradle for the baby while the work was going on. As everything was finished, the family and goods were all loaded onto the wagon. John did a last check to make sure everything was complete, and they set off. Unfortunately, a few miles down the road, Susanna noticed that the baby was missing. John had forgotten to pack the wash-tub/cradle, and little William had been left on the porch. Apparently John never lived that one down!

The home that John built in Stonington has survived even today. It was bought and renovated by a young couple who were interested in historical buildings. It now forms a portion of their larger, beautifully restored home and is identified as a historical landmark. (See the picture above.)

Susannah lived to be 100 years old. She is buried beside John in the Old Plains Cemetery. The site is marked by a unique headstone on which is carved the face of a very old lady, said to be Susannah. She lived a long and full life, becoming the mother of seven and the ancestor of countless others spread throughout that area and across the nation. Much of her story can be verified; much of it cannot and is lost except in family lore. Whether all that is “remembered” is true or not, Susanna is still an inspiration to her family. The following poem was written by one of her descendents.


Susannah Swan

While wintry winds are sighing around our cottage door,
And deepening snows are drifting the garden hillocks o’er,
We’ll pile the logs still higher upon the hearth’s red glow,
And tell a tale of olden time, our grandsire used to know.

How the prowling Indians came, and stole Susannah Swan away
To their lonely forest camp ground, and made her captive stay;
While hearts were sore and aching in Haverhill’s busy town.
As vainly her kinsfolk sought with runners up and down.

Her eyes were bright and winsome, her voice was sweet and clear,
Her heart was staunch and brave, and never shrank with fear,
As far from home and kindred, within the dark green wood,
Beside their rude built cabins, the lonely captive stood.

She sang them songs at twilight; returning from the chase
The dusky warriors gathered round, and gazed upon her face
Whose loveliness and purity had like a vision rolled
Before their darkened minds in sunset hues of gold.

They held her long for ransom, those children of the wild;
The warriors gave her bear’s meat, the swarthy women piled
Their softest furs for her a couch beside their wigwams fire,
And sought to soothe by kindly deeds her longing heart’s desire.

To while away the weary day, her willing hands oft strove
To form the baskets varying shape, to plait the mats they wove;
Yet in the silent night time, when she laid her fair head down,
Her active mind was planning to regain old Haverhill’s town.

Each night her songs she lengthened out—it banished all their care,
As echoes of their tenderness was wafted on the air;
They slept the sleep of nature, unbroken, deep and long.
It made their brown limbs supple; it made their wild hearts strong.

In the first cool days of autumn, ere the summer took her flight,
She placed her shoes outside the door one calm and moonlight night.
Her songs were low and sweeter, as they laid them down to rest;
She sang of home and freedom from the fount within her breast.

And still the melody grew lower, till slumber fell profound
Upon those children of the wild stretched upon the ground.
God gave her strength to bravely dare, He led her safely o’er
Those prostrate forms of sleeping foes; and thus she gained the door.

Grasping her shoes with stealthy step, no sound broke upon the ear,
She glided down the well-worn path and sought the trail so near;
The giant trees, with sheltering arms, securely hid her flight,
As the brave woman struggled on that bright and starlight night.

Her feet were sore and bleeding, her limbs were bruised and torn,
Yet she was miles and miles away at breaking of the morn.
That trail is now one cultured field that buds and blooms for man;
Then drear and lonely was the way that fearless woman ran.

And there was great rejoicing, with goodly words of cheer
From pastor and from people, from kinsfolk far and near,
That God had shown His mercy, protecting through the wild,
And, bringing home in safety, had thus redeemed His child.

She lived one hundred years. That brave old heart of yore
To children’s children told the tale they since repeated o’er,
As gathered round the blazing logs in winter’s stormy time,
What I have told again tonight and blended into rhyme.

Dear little niece, whose wondering eyes have never left my face,
To you, with joy, I dedicate these lines I trace.
Be brave of heart, like her of old, amid the world’s rude strife,
And crowned with grace and loveliness, long lead a noble life.

2 comments:

jared said...

I loved this story. Thanks for sharing this.
I am a descendant of Susanna Eastman Swan, so I enjoyed learning more about her.

I would love to hear more from you and where our family trees connect.
Contact me at jared.swan@gmail.com

Unknown said...

Thank you so much for sharing this story about my 7th great grandmother! She was truly a brave woman. I was wondering if you knew the address of the house, I would love to go see it. I've looked around online and I can't seem to find it.
Thanks!
Alissa