A plain and faithful narrative of the original design, rise, progress and present state of the Indian charity-school at Lebanon, in Connecticut

In Short

This book is a firsthand account of the rise and management of a charity school established to instruct Indigenous youth in Connecticut during the mid-1700s. Through a series of reports, letters, and financial summaries, the author explains why he believes educating both boys and girls—and training them to serve as missionaries and teachers among their own people—is the most effective way to secure peaceful relations and religious conversion. It serves as a window into the colonial mindset and the complex, often fraught, intersection of missionary ambition, frontier politics, and institutional development.

The Story

The narrative begins with a mission of conviction: the author views the ongoing violence between Indigenous populations and English settlers as a direct consequence of a collective failure to provide proper Christian and civil education. Rejecting the efficacy of expensive military forts, he argues that building schools and training Indigenous missionaries will offer a more durable defense and a more profound moral service. He details his decision to establish a school in Lebanon, Connecticut, based on a plan to remove youth from their home environments to provide them with intensive training in religion, agriculture, and domestic arts.

The logistical arc of the story follows the school's growth from a tiny, informal domestic effort to an institution housing twenty-five students. The author describes the constant struggle to secure funding through private donations, and the difficulty of obtaining support from colonial authorities who were often skeptical of the school's viability. He shares the challenges of managing his students' health and cultural adjustments, noting that many children, particularly those from the Mohawk nation, arrived with deep-seated, well-founded suspicions of English motives. He recounts the physical toll of long journeys taken by his representatives to recruit students and the heartbreak of losing a student to illness, which prompted him to revise his approach to student diet and exercise.

Throughout the text, the author addresses critics who questioned the expense of the project. He painstakingly outlines his financial records to prove his frugality, claiming that he has personally absorbed many of the costs and that his administration of the school is rooted in transparency. He highlights the roles of specific students, such as David Fowler and Samson Occom, and explains his rationale for training girls in housewifery and trade, viewing their education as essential for creating stable, Christian-influenced families that can resist the "savage" conditions he attributes to nomadic, hunting-based societies.

The narrative concludes not with a final resolution, but with a plea for continued support. By publishing lists of donors and including letters of endorsement from neighboring ministers, the author frames the school as a project of God’s providence. He expresses hope that the institution will survive the indifference of the public and the instability of the frontier, eventually serving as a model for how the "wide extended wilderness" of North America might be transformed. The story ends with a forward-looking tone, emphasizing the long-term necessity of his methods and the expectation that the school’s graduates will carry the burden of the mission into the future.

How It Unfolds

The rationale for the design The author establishes his foundational argument that current colonial policies of military engagement are ineffective and morally deficient. He posits that a school focused on Indigenous leadership will be more fiscally responsible and culturally effective than sending English missionaries who cannot speak the language or adapt to the environment.

The practical implementation The narrative shifts to the physical establishment of the school, detailing the acquisition of land and the challenges of managing students from different nations. The author explains his pedagogical philosophy, which combines rigorous academic instruction with manual labor, intended to prepare students for both ministry and daily life.

The struggle for institutional legitimacy A significant portion of the text is devoted to the author's efforts to secure formal support from the British and colonial governments. He recounts his frustration with bureaucratic hurdles and the difficulty of maintaining the project during times of war when public sentiment turned sharply against Indigenous populations.

The accounting of resources The closing sections serve as a comprehensive justification of the school’s management. The author details specific donations and expenditures, attempting to deflect accusations of mismanagement by inviting scrutiny of his private records and emphasizing the personal sacrifices he has made to sustain the institution.

The People

Eleazar Wheelock is the central figure, acting as the school’s founder, chief administrator, and primary advocate. He is driven by a profound, uncompromising belief in his moral duty to convert and "civilize" Indigenous youth. His tone is that of a man under constant pressure, shifting between defensive justifications of his finances and idealistic declarations about his spiritual mandate.

Sir William Johnson appears as a vital political and logistical ally, facilitating the recruitment of students from the Mohawk nation. His influence is portrayed as essential for overcoming the deep-seated distrust that the Indigenous communities held toward the English.

Samson Occom is the most prominent of the students mentioned. He is presented as a success story of the school’s mission—a testament to the author’s belief that Indigenous people, once educated, can effectively carry the Gospel to their own kin.

David Fowler and Joseph Woolley are highlighted as exemplary students whose dedication to labor and study supports the author’s argument that his methodology works. The students, in general, are depicted as subjects of a transformative process; they are expected to move from a "savage" state to one of disciplined, religious productivity, though the author acknowledges the difficulty of this change and the periodic resistance he encounters from them.

In Its Own Voice

"And there is good Reason to think, that if one half which has been, for so many Years past expended in building Forts, manning and supporting them, had been prudently laid out in supporting faithful Missionaries, and School-Masters among them, the instructed and civilized Party would have been a far better Defence than all our expensive Fortresses."

The author argues that educational outreach is a more effective and ethical alternative to the military expenditure of the era.

"The deep rooted Prejudices they have so generally imbibed against the English, that they are selfish, and have secret Designs to incroach upon their Lands, or otherwise wrong them in their Interests."

The author acknowledges the valid, historically grounded reasons Indigenous people held for distrusting English settlers.

What It's Really About

The book is an argument for the supremacy of cultural and religious assimilation as a tool of colonial expansion. It explores the tension between the author’s stated "disinterested" charity and the practical reality of living in a world dominated by land disputes, suspicion, and war. At its core, the work questions whether the colonial project can be managed through persuasion rather than force, and whether a small, religiously driven institution can function as an effective instrument of empire. It grapples with the definition of "civilization" and the belief that the adoption of English-style labor and domesticity is the only pathway to salvation for Indigenous populations.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of colonial education, religious proselytizing, and the shifting dynamics of frontier North America will find this book essential. It provides an unvarnished look at the paternalistic attitudes of the period, as the author does not shy away from describing Indigenous cultures in terms that modern readers will find prejudiced and reductive. The writing is formal, deeply religious, and occasionally dense, reflecting the administrative and argumentative nature of the document.

The experience of reading it is similar to viewing a historical artifact; you are seeing the world entirely through the eyes of a man who believed his work was the only way to avoid the "guilt" of neglecting his perceived religious duties. While the text is challenging due to its period-specific language and its endorsement of colonial assimilation, it is a fascinating, if sobering, record of how early American institutions were conceived. You will stay with the author’s persistent, almost desperate need to justify his actions, and the chilling, matter-of-fact way he describes the total restructuring of children’s lives as a simple matter of "charity." It is a vital read for those who want to understand the intellectual and ideological foundations of the boarding school movement that would shape the continent for centuries to come.