Margaret Smith's Journal: Part 1 from Volume V of The Works of John Greenleaf Whittier

In Short

This historical fiction, presented as an authentic diary from 1678–1679, follows Margaret Smith as she travels from England to join her kin in New England. Through her observant, steady gaze, the reader encounters the rigorous piety, the looming threats of frontier conflict, and the interpersonal dynamics of colonial life. While the text blends historical fact with the imaginative recreations of its author, it endures as a vivid, immersive portrait of a world defined by the struggle between rigid doctrine and the realities of human nature.

The Story

Margaret Smith begins her journey in Boston, quickly finding herself immersed in the dense social and spiritual fabric of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. She is a newcomer, an outsider whose perspective remains inquisitive and balanced despite the intense atmosphere of her new home. As she travels to stay with her cousins and uncle, she acts as a bridge between the reader and the settlers, recording the daily rhythms of a life dictated by both the seasons and the church. She describes the physical beauty of the Merrimac River, the bounty of the land, and the stark, demanding lives of the families she visits.

As the months pass, the narrative deepens into the political and religious friction of the era. Margaret’s brother, Leonard, becomes a point of contention when he begins to associate with Quakers—a group viewed with deep suspicion and open hostility by the prevailing authorities. Margaret, though loyal to her family and steady in her own faith, finds herself witnessing the harsh treatment directed toward those who dissent from established church order. Her journal entries reflect her internal conflict as she balances her affection for her brother against the stern warnings of local ministers, such as Mr. Ward, who view Leonard’s curiosity as a dangerous slide toward heresy.

The narrative also broadens to include the shadow of war. Through stories shared by local men and encounters with those displaced by the fighting, Margaret grapples with the morality of the colonial conflict with the indigenous population and the unsettling realities of slaveholding in the colonies. She listens to tales of the "Baron of Castine" and accounts of native leaders like Squando, who struggle to understand the God of the white man while facing the encroachment of English settlers. These anecdotes are interwoven with the domestic details of her life, including her observations on the superstitions and "witch-lore" that still permeate the community.

The journal concludes not with a dramatic resolution, but with a transition toward peace and reflection. Margaret settles into her new environment, witnessing her cousin Polly’s happiness and the quiet, charitable work of local figures like Dr. Russ, who prioritizes the physical and social welfare of his neighbors over abstract theological disputes. The story eventually looks forward, as an epilogue reveals the later fate of Margaret’s cousin, who eventually seeks to return to New England but meets a tragic end in the Jamaican earthquake of 1692. The journal serves as a memorial, a personal record of lives caught in the transition between the old world and a harsh, developing new one.

How It Unfolds

The arrival in Boston Margaret records her initial impressions of the colonial landscape, noting the beauty of the unfamiliar flora and the immediate social obligations of visiting relatives and local leaders. She captures the tension between the civility of social calls and the underlying rigidity of the colonial social order.

Life on the Merrimac During her travels, Margaret documents the geography and labor of the colony, describing the use of the forest and the river for survival. She finds moments of peace in the natural world, even as she hears stories of war and spiritual crisis from the men she encounters.

The rising religious friction Margaret’s brother, Leonard, begins to drift toward Quaker beliefs, sparking intense scrutiny from ministers and community leaders. This creates a painful divide in the family, as Margaret must navigate the pressure to condemn her brother’s choices while maintaining her own conscience.

Tales of the frontier The journal captures the broader historical context through the oral accounts of those around her, including stories of conflict with indigenous tribes and the legal mistreatment of religious dissenters. These accounts color Margaret’s understanding of the morality and the dangers inherent in the colony.

The conclusion of the year As winter sets in, Margaret reflects on the passing of the year and the divine providence she believes has guided her. She accepts her place within this new society, despite her persistent feelings of distance from the most extreme expressions of local piety.

The People

Margaret Smith serves as the observant, mild-mannered narrator. Her desire is to understand the world around her, but she is frequently hindered by the narrow-mindedness of the society she has entered. She ends the narrative as a settled, albeit thoughtful, resident of the colony, having grown in her capacity for empathy.

Leonard, her brother, is driven by a genuine, quiet curiosity about faith that leads him to defy the rigid religious standards of his peers. His desire for a more personal, less dogmatic connection to the divine makes him a target for the local ministers, and he is ultimately forced to choose between his conscience and his social standing.

Mr. Ward represents the institutional pressure of the colony. He is a man of strict doctrine who views any deviation from established church order as a threat to the survival of the community. He stands in the way of Leonard’s spiritual growth, attempting to force conformity through fear and moral authority.

Dr. Russ stands in contrast to the more rigid figures in the book. He represents the ideal of practical, loving faith, focusing his life on the immediate physical needs of his neighbors rather than complex theological debates. He remains a stable, guiding influence, helping to foster peace within the small society he serves.

In Its Own Voice

"The intelligent reader of the following record cannot fail to notice occasional inaccuracies in respect to persons, places, and dates; and, as a matter of course, will make due allowance for the prevailing prejudices and errors of the period to which it relates."

The editor introduces the journal as a historical artifact, cautioning the reader to approach the text with an awareness of the time in which it was written.

"The God of the white man is the God of the Indian, and He is angry with his red children."

A soldier recounts a vision seen by an indigenous man named Squando, highlighting the deep cultural and spiritual confusion created by the colonial presence.

"Peace is another fruit which this tree bears, the chiefest garland that the country wears, which o'er all house-tops, towns, and fields doth spread, and stuffs the pillow for each weary head."

Rebecca reads a poem comparing New England to a growing tree, illustrating the settlers' idealized view of their new home as a place of liberty and order.

What It's Really About

The book is a deep meditation on the tension between institutional dogma and the individual’s search for spiritual authenticity. It interrogates how a community defines "righteousness" and whether that definition can withstand the pressures of frontier survival. Beneath the plot, the journal explores the precarious nature of peace—both between the colonists and the indigenous people, and within the hearts of those living under a strict moral code. It asks whether true "charity" can survive when the state is more concerned with enforcing rigid orthodoxy than with the welfare of its people. Ultimately, it is a study of how memory and faith serve as anchors when a person is transplanted into a harsh, uncertain wilderness.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the slow, atmospheric nature of period-specific fiction will find much to admire here. The book is written in a prose style that mimics the formal, earnest tone of seventeenth-century journals, which requires a bit of patience to settle into, but rewards the reader with a remarkably tactile sense of place. It does not shy away from the prejudices of the era; the inclusion of casual references to slaveholding and the dehumanization of religious dissenters provides an honest, often uncomfortable look at the foundations of colonial New England.

It is a quiet, contemplative read, emphasizing the daily life of women and the domestic concerns that were often sidelined by larger historical narratives. You will find that the difficulty of the antiquated syntax is offset by the warmth of Margaret’s voice, which remains consistently human and relatable. What stays with you long after finishing is the sense of how the land—the rivers, the forests, and the changing seasons—shaped the souls of those who lived there. It is a thoughtful exploration of a past that feels both vividly alive and profoundly distant, perfect for those who enjoy deep historical immersion.