Margaret Smith's Journal, and Tales and Sketches, Complete: Volume V of The Works of John Greenleaf Whittier

In Short

This volume collects Margaret Smith’s Journal, a fictionalized account of life in the Massachusetts Bay Colony in the late 1600s, alongside a variety of prose sketches and tales. Through the diary entries of a visiting Englishwoman, the reader gains a vivid, textured sense of seventeenth-century domesticity, religious fervor, and the harsh social codes of the era. By pairing this atmospheric historical fiction with later essays and stories on folklore and industry, the work serves as an enduring exploration of the American identity, grounded in both its difficult past and its evolving future.

The Story

The journal of Margaret Smith chronicles her visit from England to the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1678–1679. Writing to her friends and family back home, Margaret records her impressions of a world that is at once physically stunning and socially stifling. She is initially struck by the breathtaking natural beauty of the New World—the vibrant, fiery colors of the autumn woods that remind her of stained-glass windows, and the vast, untamed landscape that she finds far more impressive than the cultivated gardens of England.

However, beneath the surface of this natural splendor lies a society governed by rigid, often punishing, religious orthodoxy. Margaret observes the stark, joyless atmosphere of the Sabbath and notes the intense suspicion with which the colonists view dissenters, particularly Quakers and those they label as witches. She writes with growing empathy about the plight of "Goody" Cole, an elderly woman accused of witchcraft, whose life is dismantled by the testimonies of superstitious neighbors and the heavy hand of the law. Margaret is also deeply conflicted by the colony's treatment of the indigenous people, recording stories of the brutal killing of the friendly "Blind Will" at the behest of authorities.

As her stay continues, Margaret’s own family ties become strained. Her brother, Leonard, falls under the influence of the Quakers, and Margaret watches in distress as he faces the ire of the local minister, Mr. Ward. Through her interactions with family members like her cousin Rebecca Rawson, she witnesses the personal costs of living within such a strict social order. The narrative culminates in the departure of Margaret and her cousin for England. The journal ends abruptly, leaving a fragmented sense of lives moving forward, while later editorial notes confirm the tragic, storied fate of the beautiful Rebecca, who remains in Boston.

The remainder of the volume pivots from this colonial focus to a series of sketches and tales. These pieces span a wide range: from the quiet, melancholic reflections of a man looking back on his life in "My Summer with Dr. Singletary," to the industrial optimism surrounding the female workers of the Lowell mills. These stories shift the tone from the historical severity of the Puritan past to the shifting, modernizing landscape of the nineteenth century, concluding with accounts of folk heroism and the strange, persistent power of local legends.

How It Unfolds

The journey begins Margaret arrives in the colony with an outsider’s curiosity, immediately documenting the strange, vibrant colors of the North American autumn. She finds herself navigating a social terrain that is far more fractured by religious anxiety than the England she left behind.

The shadow of the law The narrative turns toward the dark reality of judicial persecution, focusing on the trial and social isolation of Goody Cole. Margaret’s observant prose reveals how fear and hearsay combine to ruin the lives of the vulnerable within the community.

Family and faith in conflict The tension shifts to the domestic sphere as Margaret struggles to understand her brother’s attraction to the Quakers. She finds herself caught between her loyalty to family and the dogmatic pressure exerted by the local clergy.

A departure and reflection As Margaret prepares to return to England, the journal captures a sense of finality and quiet charity among the women she leaves behind. The narrative arc closes with the abrupt end of the diary, followed by historical footnotes that clarify the fates of the figures she described.

Sketches of a changing world The final section of the volume moves into the nineteenth century, exploring the lives of factory workers, the skepticism surrounding tales of witchcraft, and the modern spirit of industrial progress. These tales ground the book’s earlier historical anxieties in a more contemporary, reflective landscape.

The People

Margaret Smith serves as the observant, sympathetic heart of the book. As an English visitor, she is not fully bound by the colony's rigid prejudices, allowing her to view the suffering of others—like Goody Cole—with a compassion that the local authorities lack. Her brother, Leonard, represents the growing desire for spiritual autonomy; he is willing to risk his standing in the community to explore the teachings of the Quakers. Rebecca Rawson, Margaret’s cousin, embodies the grace and beauty of the colonial elite, though her life is defined by social expectations and the eventual weight of public scrutiny. These characters are surrounded by figures like the stern, judgmental Mr. Ward, whose adherence to his own brand of "godliness" stands as the primary obstacle to the freedom of thought Margaret and her circle seek. By the end, they are all changed by their experiences: Margaret returns to a different life in England, while those who remain are left to navigate the consequences of the harsh, unforgiving world they helped build.

In Its Own Voice

"When we got upon the top, which is bare and rocky, we had a fair view of the coast, with its many windings and its islands, from the Cape Ann, near Boston, to the Cape Elizabeth, near Casco."

Margaret records her awe upon viewing the vast, rugged landscape of the Massachusetts coast for the first time.

"The maples were all aflame with crimson, the walnuts were orange, the hemlocks and cedars were wellnigh black; while the slender birches, with their pale yellow leaves, seemed painted upon them as pictures are laid upon a dark ground."

Margaret describes the startling beauty of the American wilderness, which she feels is far more vivid than anything found in her native England.

"The age shows, to my thinking, more infidels to Adam, Than directly, by profession, simple infidels to God."

The author uses this quote to highlight a recurring anxiety about the loss of human connection and empathy in an increasingly mechanized, judgmental society.

What It's Really About

At its core, the work examines the tension between institutional power and the individual conscience. Whether describing the Puritan authorities who use the law to crush dissenters or the later industrial society that views factory girls as a curiosity rather than as individuals, the author questions the cost of progress and order. The book asks whether a society can truly be moral if it lacks the capacity for mercy. It contrasts the natural beauty of the physical world with the often-ugly rigidities of human society, suggesting that the "light" of human understanding is frequently dimmed by the very structures—religious, social, or industrial—built to protect it.

Why Read It Today

This volume is for readers who enjoy the slow, deliberate pace of historical immersion. If you are interested in the roots of American identity—or the specific, often brutal ways that early New Englanders reconciled their faith with their fears—you will find much here to ponder. The prose is elegant and descriptive, capturing the "lifelike picture of the Past" that the editor promises.

However, readers should be prepared for the challenges inherent in the text. The dialect and archaic phrasing of the seventeenth-century journal entries require a patient ear. Furthermore, the attitudes toward gender, race, and religion reflect the era’s deep-seated prejudices, which are presented without modern softening. The book is less a driving narrative and more a collection of observations; it is best enjoyed by someone who wants to sit with a character as she walks through a forest or contemplates the meaning of a neighbor's trial. What stays with you is the contrast between the narrator’s gentle, observant spirit and the cold, unyielding world she describes. It is a quiet, contemplative read that rewards those willing to look past the difficulties of its period to the deeply human questions at its center.