How many times will you scroll past this without reading this?The Journal of Catherine Ann DuPageFirst, alittle about this story:This little story is made up of four weeks of hard reasearch. I knew what I was writing. Also, DuPage is my mother's mother's mother's maiden name. My great grand mother was hugeonot. Catherine Ann is a fictional character, however. I made a really nice final copy of this with hand drawn pictures, so if it mentions pictures in there, there was a picture in the final copy.June 6, Monday, 1774
Be brave, Catherine. Those were my mother’s last words as her grip on life loosened, and her existence was taken by the great darkness. I saw it in her eyes. Through my entire life, through all of the hardships cruel life had pushed at my mother, I noticed that she always had a twinkle in her eyes. As life slipped away, her eyes ceased to twinkle. She closed them for the final time. She died of the bubonic plague, a disease transmitted by fleas borne by rats. My name is Catherine Ann DuPage, and I am an orphan. I have rather coarse, wavy brown hair. I have tanned skin, and always have a pimple or two on my face. I am 12 years old and I am, due to the debts my mother left behind, an indentured servant to Lord Larbiness. I like to call him Lord Lardiness, privately. He is so fat and lardy. I hate him.
I hate Jamestown, Virginia, where I live. I hate that I live here. I hate all these stupid plagues. I hate rats. I hate fleas.
I hate destiny.
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June 8, Wednesday, 1774
Sorry if my last entry was a little emotional, with all that hating going on. Sorry.
Well, I had to vent on something.
You see, I am just frustrated at all these deaths that are happening. Lots of unknown illnesses, plagues, diseases, ailments, viruses… call them what ever you want. People are still going to die. In some cases, though, we have to give it up to herbs. I remember when my mother would feed me ground-roasted toad tea, which was supposedly good for me. I remember almost word-for-word what she told me about herbs and healing remedies:
“Some of the ingredients you should use in remedies include chalk for heartburn, calamine for skin rashes, and cinchona bark for fevers. Cinchona bark contains a special healing power for malaria and heart conditions. Vinegar of roses may be used to treat headaches. There is a home remedy made of rose petals boiled in vinegar and applied to the skin, which is very good. Are you listening, Catherine? You will use this information when I am dead and gone.”
So true. I have already treated some of my master’s infants, soothing the babies and warding off headaches, sicknesses, and other things. Whenever one of my master’s babies would grow a first tooth, I would tie berries around the baby’s neck. I don’t know why, but mother used to say that it helped. One of my masters had a very fragile
daughter, and would always send me off to the nearest apothecary to buy cooking spices, candles, vinegar toothbrushes, salad oil, tobacco, etc. “Daddy’s little darling” always needed to have what she thought would make her feel better. I despised her. She was, and acted like, a spoiled brat.
She died the following month, from some mosquito-carried disease. But I really could not feign any feelings of sadness on the occasion of her death, so it was just as well that as I had been sent away to another master by then.
My favorite master was Balthazar Frobineous. He was like me, a loner. I heard one to many times people talk about him after church, when all the ladies would gather at the well. They would complain about being the primary guardians of family religious life, talk of how the struggle for religious freedom paralleled the struggle for political independence, and speak of how the line between religions and civil authority was blurred.
As the other servant girls would head off the creek to weave tiaras of willow branches and flowers, and to watch the boys catch minnows in the flowing creek, I would always linger behind, eavesdropping on the ladies’ gossip as I assumedly was fetching water, or looking for my masters lost spectacles. I usually found what they said interesting. All the other girl servants my age noticed and made it known that I was different. Melva Fenton made that very clear. She would call me names, and then her two comrades, Dorles and Lynsey would nervously giggle. They weren’t here real friends; they only trailed her because they feared her. I know that doesn’t make sense, but some girls just don’t. Lard pigs, bedbugs and fleas, I abhorred them.
Back to me and eavesdropping.
I would listen to every word I heard, and I never spoke out, except for that one fatal day when Master Frobineous was officially pronounced sick with influenza. One of the ladies, Gabby Paxton, said that she always thought him to be peculiar and weird, and that he was greedy and possessive. Enraged upon hearing this, I dumped the ice cold water that I had collected from the well over her and her Sunday gown. Master was everything but greedy or possessive. He always lent and shared belongings! I could have slapped that smug smile off her face. She’s lucky I just washed it off. Anyway, I was grabbed, beaten, and sold by the ladies who used to be my idols, without Master Frobineous’s knowledge. I wasn’t even informed of his ailment before I was sold. It was when I was running away from another master when I spotted his tombstone in the graveyard I was cutting through, and discovered that he had died. I miss him.
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June 13, Monday, 1774
Today I helped shear the Leicester long wool sheep. I hooked up Berry, Lord Lardiness’s American Draft Horse, to the plow. I pulled on one of Bessie’s utterlets too hard when I was milking her. It was an accident! But, Bessie still kicked over the three pails of milk that I had just freshly retrieved from Dandy, Rose and Miss Perryweather. I got in huge trouble with master. It also happens to be his Sister’s birthday. They had shepherd’s pie, gingerbread, apple tansey, Dutch apple dumplings… so all the other servants got some but me.
Here’s were the miracle happens.
Lark, a servant about my age, came by and set a plate of some treats by me. She smiled and the walked away. I was so grateful! I swear that tomorrow I shall get to know her better. I think I might have finally found a friend.
In other news, I’d like to say it is getting tiresome and I am beginning to feel restless here. I realized that I am not at home here after I found out that master was a Tory. Tories are loyal to Britain. I am not at home here.
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June 14, Tuesday, 1774
Master found out one of his servants wasn’t a loyalist today. Poor, poor Madhu. She was an Indian girl and was always so sweet! Curse Jacinda Stewarts for eavesdropping while Madhu was talking to her friend about our country and the talk of impending war. Curse Jacinda for being such a tattle-tale suck-up! She’s master’s favorite servant. I could hurt her.
I told her that.
I said, “Curse you, Jacinda for being such a tattle-tale suck-up! I could hurt you.”
She said, “Shut up, you little Wiccin. You’re just jealous.”
“Why would I be jealous, box-brain?” I said. You see, Jacinda had a box-shaped head and almost looked like a boy. People would call her box-brain behind her back.
Jacinda pointed her beefy index finger at me and said, “You better watch it. Everyone knows I am Master’s favorite.”
“Yeah. Since you are a suck- up lard pig.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me perfectly fine. You are a SUCK-UP LARD PIG. Are you deaf?”
“ You, you, you ugly little…!”
“Oh, I’m ugly? Look who’s talking.”
“Oh, I’ll kill you!!!!”
“You have something growing on your neck. Whoops! Sorry. That’s your face.” I tried to look like I really was sorry and that I just noticed that that was her face.
She turned to punch me, but I was too fast. Jacinda is big and bulky, and she’s not that fast. I have long legs, and I am known for my speed. I have escaped many of my ex-masters by running. In any case, I ran away, and I heard her screaming the entire time.
I am lucky no one knows that I want our colonies to break away from Britain.
Or I would probably be thrown into a pit and beaten until handicapped like poor Madhu.
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June 16, Friday, 1774
Today at breakfast I walked over to Lark and braved to talk to her. I thanked her for bringing me the food Monday during the feast as I cowered from master, taking a time-out in the corner. If master had seen Lark give me that food, Lark would have been in huge trouble.
That morning Lord Lardiness handed me a pamphlet about manners and behaving properly. Everyone got one and we are supposed to study it, because a special guest is coming tomorrow and we needed to have good manners. Let me give you an example of some of the stupid rules:
-Every action done in company should be with some sign of respect
-Keep interested in the topic
-Keep your nails clean & short
I know. Stupid, isn’t it?
Well, let’s talk politics now. I think that Master is in a grumpy mood because today someone brought up the First Continental Congress. The members gather to design a plan of resistance against British the government, which they (and I) think is harsh and unreasonable when it comes to treating us, here in the colonies. My master, the grumpy old fart, got all wound up and went off on a speech about being loyal to our country, blah blah blah…being thankful, blah blah blah… taxes this, taxes that, blah blah blah…. Horse plop, I was getting annoyed! Master Lardiness didn’t understand. Taxation with no representation is tyranny! When Mother and I emigrated from Europe, we thought we were immigrating to a place of land, riches, and FREEDOM. How wrong we were.
During Lardiness’s rant, I glanced in Lark’s direction. One look and I knew she agreed with me. She pouted and rolled her eyes the entire way through. When Master stated that “If you’re not a loyalist you’re a loser,” Lark took a sharp inward breath to speak out, but caught herself.
Thank heavens I am not alone.
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June 17, Friday 1774
The “special guest” that came was only another slave sales person. Master was very desperate for slaves and us servants so he could farm tobacco and press sugar out of sugarcane. As he and master talked and bargained, we servants took advantage of his distraction and played games. Some of us went into the parlor and played parlor games like charades, forfeit games, cards, & word games. I went outside in the warm sun to play. I played Tug o War, leap frog, Prisoner’s base, hopscotch, Marbles, Squat (tag)…. We watched the boys show off by playing pen the bull. It was a nice day, and here in Virginia most days are nice. The sun beats down on your back, warming you and plunging you into a state of sereneness.
But the mood would change tonight.
You see, I had befriended Lark.
Lark was 12, like me, but she was Swedish. She had blond hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. She was a bit smaller that I, but she made up for her size in kindness and intelligence.
We both wanted to get out of this dump and find better lives somewhere else.
Tonight we were going to run far away.
Good bye for now, since I am leaving and need to prepare.
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June 23, Thursday, 1774
I am no longer sure of the date. I believe this is right, though. Lark and I have been traveling many days.
A few days into our journey, we found a lost wolf pup. It’s a girl and has the shape of a heart in black fur on her forehead, which contrasts nicely with her glossy white coat. Lark said that we should keep it as a pet. We named her
Rajkumari, or Princess in Indian. She is so sweet!
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June 24, Friday 1774
Today we came across a small jolly hut. Lark and I went up to the doorstep and begged to be fed. We have only been surviving on vegetation, and Rajkumari was living off field mice and other small animals that she caught. The owner of the hut was a nice old couple about 40-50 years old. The gladly let us in.
The wife’s name was
Félicie and the husband was named Armel. They both were against British rule over the colonies! They gladly accepted us into their home, and Lark and I enjoyed a nice dinner of Shepard’s pie and apple crisp for dessert. I love them! They wish me to call them Grandma and Grandpa. I now feel at home, where there are no Loyalists, and the belief of taxation with representation is embraced warmly.
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June 26, Sunday, 1774
I am finally happy! You won’t even believe what happened today. Grandma asked me my full name, and when she found out my last name was DuPage, she gasped. “I must take you under my wing. I will treat you as a daughter!!! You are of French Huguenot heritage, as am I and Armel!” she said. I couldn’t believe that I was a descendant in a line of French Protestants! Huguenots were the “cream of the crop” in education and artisanship. They came to America highly skilled as gold/silversmiths, physicians, winemakers, and other artisans and craftsmen. No wonder I was so good at drawing art and doctoring people! Grandma sat me and Lark down, and told the story that her parents told her of the hideous, bloodcurdling tale of their family’s emigration from France after the threat of fatal persecution by the Catholics there, who had bloodily butchered and massacred thousands of French Huguenots in the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre back in 1572 for not following the country’s religion.
“You should be very proud of your heritage, Catherine!” Grandma said. Oh, I was!
“Your family’s ancestors thought they would be protected after King Henry the IV gave the Edict of Nantes in 1598, which granted and protected Huguenots toleration and the freedom to worship in their own way, but in 1685 King Louis XIV revoked that edict, causing half a million people to flee France. The Huguenots were among those who came to the American colonies seeking freedom to worship in their own way.” Grandma said.
“One of our very own French Huguenots, Apollos Rivoire, came here and settled to the north in Boston, and his own son Paul Revere is up in Boston as we speak. He is a fine gold and silversmith who has made fine engravings which show the atrocities of the British and the arrival of their navy in our northern colony. He is one of the brave revolutionaries who dumped tea into the harbor to protest unfair taxation by the British last year. They called it the Boston Tea Party.”
Grandma whispered, “Like Paul, revolution seems to be in your blood, Catherine.”
Then she said, “Your skills with herbs and healing may be from knowledge your mother brought from France. Catherine, it may be your destiny to help restore the health of sick and injured revolutionaries that will surely come in the next years. Catherine, Be ready, for once this revolution is fully underway, your skills will be much needed.”
I wonder. Could this be the key to my history and future?
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June 28, Tuesday, 1774
Lark and I are considering a journey north to find out more about the
DuPage name from the Revere family. As for you, journal, I am sad to say this is the last of your pages. I will miss writing on your fresh, crisp paper. Oh journal, I will sorely miss you. I’d like to say thanks for listening to my worries and my angry rants, and thanks for keeping my secrets. I saw a flower in the field, and decided to draw it here, for you.
Thanks and goodbye.
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This morning I told you about Indexed, a weekday blog of interesting graphs and venn diagrams of sometimes odd relationships. It's a great read to mix into your daily rotation. It was recently voted onto Time Magazine's 1st Annual Blog Index.
RIP
My cat, Henry. (aunray, henny pen or henny penny are his nicknames. )
This one is called yesterday.
Catnip with a cat is a good inspiration for stories. Here, it looks like he hurt his leg, and the catnip bag looks like an ice pack.
My old webkinz, Phantom. This one is nice. And insperational. Whatever.
I don't know excactly why I took this. It is called three of a kind.
Called : different
