The Quaker Witch Trial

November 19, 2024

There’s a great sto­ry, almost cer­tain­ly a tall tale, about Penn­syl­va­ni­a’s lone witch tri­al, in which the accused, a Swedish woman who could­n’t speak Eng­lish, acci­den­tal­ly con­firmed she flew on brooms. William Penn him­self, pre­sid­ing, replied “Well I know of no law against that!” and dis­missed the case. The Novem­ber issue of Friends Jour­nal has a fic­tion­al­ized account of this writ­ten by Jean Martin.

There’s no tran­script of the actu­al tri­al so we don’t know the blow-by-blow. We know that Mar­garet Matt­son was found guilty of hav­ing the rep­u­ta­tion of a witch, a strange find­ing indeed.

The Swedes were the orig­i­nal Euro­pean inhab­i­tants of the Delaware Riv­er basin. Many were Finns who had brought folk reme­dies with them. They were close to the Native Lenape peo­ples and inter­mar­ried and allied them­selves with one anoth­er against lat­er Euro­peans rulers, the Dutch then English.

Being first amongst the Euro­peans, the Swedes/Finns had set­tled in some of the choic­est land along the mouths of creeks and there was a lot of polit­i­cal pres­sure to move them out or hem them in. Accu­sa­tions of witch­craft were part of this con­text. The Eng­lish accusers might well have been engag­ing in clas­sic scape­goat­ing behav­ior meant to steal land and resources.

Like the Lenape, many Swedes/Finns even­tu­al­ly moved across the riv­er to West Jer­sey, which had a strong Lenape pres­ence, a much slow­er influx of Eng­lish Quak­ers, and clear­er bound­aries between the two, such as Burling­ton Coun­ty’s so-called “Indi­an Line” at the head of west-flowing creeks flow­ing into the Delaware. Mar­garet Matt­son was part of this exo­dus. She might have won the tri­al but her Penn­syl­va­nia neigh­bors suc­ceed­ed in bul­ly­ing her out. The folksy sto­ry of Quak­er tol­er­a­tion may be a lot shaki­er than lat­er biog­ra­phers made it out to be.

If you’re inter­est­ing in all this, Jean Soder­lund’s work, esp. 2014’s Lenape Coun­try, is fab­u­lous and decon­structs a lot of myths pro­mul­gat­ed by lat­er Quak­er set­tlers. She recent­ly wrote about some of this for Friends Jour­nal.

Some of this his­to­ry lives on. I have to dri­ve 1/2 hour to Quak­er meet­ing because most of South Jer­sey’s Quak­er meet­ings are locat­ed west of the long-forgotten “Indi­an Line.” Here’s the SJ Quak­er map with the approx­i­mate line of water­sheds toward the Delaware Riv­er. (The four out­lier South Jer­sey Quak­er meet­ings are all with­in a mile or two of Atlantic Ocean bays. Sea­far­ing Quak­ers, often from Long Island/New Eng­land, set­tled them.)

August Friends Journal

July 31, 2024

The August issue of Friends Jour­nal is avail­able online. There’s no theme to this issue, which makes it kind of a “Best of” for the arti­cles we’ve received over the late spring. It’s hard to pick favorites but I’m real­ly excit­ed by Michael Lev­i’s “White Suprema­cy Cul­ture in My Clerk­ing.”

Anoth­er favorite is Jean Soder­lund’s look at Lenape Peo­ple, Quak­ers, and peace in the sev­en­teenth cen­tu­ry. I reached out to Jean after read­ing her 2015 book, Lenape Coun­try: Delaware Val­ley Soci­ety Before William Penn. On of her the­ses was that a lot of the cul­ture of peace that we’ve attrib­uted to Penn­syl­va­nia Quak­ers was already well in place along both shores of the Delaware Riv­er long before Pen­n’s arrival, nego­ti­at­ed by the Lenape who pro­tect­ed it through a suc­ces­sion of Dutch and Swedish set­tle­ments and gov­er­nors. As I wrote in my open­ing col­umn this month:

Friends have often spent a lot of time think­ing about Quak­er cul­ture and jus­ti­fy­ing it to our­selves and oth­ers. Our his­to­ries and the sto­ries we tell about our­selves have often been craft­ed to pro­vide a uni­fied vision for who we should be now. It’s a con­tin­u­al process, and sto­ry­telling con­tin­ues to shape our self-image today.

Who Do We Think We Are?

I think a lot of what has become Amer­i­can Quak­er cul­ture was forged in the first fifty years of Philadelphia-area gov­ern­ing and that if we’re to under­stand who we are now, it helps to under­stand how a band of per­se­cut­ed rad­i­cals in Eng­land adapt­ed to becom­ing landown­ers, col­o­niz­ers, and gov­er­nors over a some­times unwill­ing land of Lenape, Swedes, Dutch, Finns and non-Quaker English.

Visiting Petty Island

June 16, 2019

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As a lover of maps, I’ve often be intrigued by the envi­rons  of the Delaware Riv­er. As the tides go up and down, the time­less­ness of the riv­er becomes a kind of gen­tle solace to the indus­tri­al­iza­tion along its banks. Nowhere is this more appar­ent than on the islands which some­how remain in its course. I’ve camped at Pea Patch Island down by Delaware and found a sur­pris­ing fam­i­ly con­nec­tion in its con­vo­lut­ed own­er­ship. But clos­er to my com­mute is Pet­ty Island, sit­ting along­side the New Jer­sey main­land a short dis­tance north of the Ben Franklin Bridge.

Pet­ty Island is owned by the Cit­go oil com­pa­ny and until just a few months ago was still dot­ted with its oil tanks and a large marine car­go facil­i­ty. Satel­lite views still show this twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry indus­try. But in a very long and oftentimes-uncertain process it’s due to become part of New Jer­sey nat­ur­al lands and even­tu­al­ly to become a pre­serve. The pub­lic is gen­er­al­ly still not allowed on the island but there are occa­sion­al trips and on this past Sat­ur­day I got to tour the island.

We were very lucky to have Bob Shinn as our tour guide. He’s a walk­ing ency­clo­pe­dia of the island and the state geopol­i­tics and waves of names and com­mer­cial uses it’s been through. He lit­er­al­ly wrote the entry on Pet­ty Island in the Philadel­phia Ency­clo­pe­dia. Not sur­pris­ing­ly there’s a lot of Quak­ers in the ear­ly record­ed his­to­ry and the deed between the first Quak­er own­er and three Lenape rep­re­sen­ta­tives is intact in the Haver­ford Col­lege col­lec­tions (this deed was also a major part of a talk by Lenape – set­tler his­to­ry giv­en by Jean Soder­lund a few months ago at Ran­co­cas Meet­ing (see also her book Lenape Coun­try)).

The ever-changing, never-settled his­to­ry of the island con­tin­ues with its name. Wikipedia, Google Maps, and — most impor­tant­ly — Bob Shinn call it “Pet­ty Island,” while the guard shack, wel­come sign, NJ Audubon Soci­ety, and New Jer­sey Nat­ur­al Lands Trust adds the pos­ses­sive to make it “Pet­ty’s Island.” The lat­ter is espe­cial­ly awkward-sounding to my ears, as South Jer­sey place names char­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly drop the apos­tro­phes over time (for exam­ple, the riv­er land­ing named after Cap­tain George May is now the town of “Mays Landing.”)

Rem­nants of the indus­tri­al­iza­tion remain: the mas­sive three-story load­ing facil­i­ty has been kept to become the bones of a future vis­i­tors cen­ter; the adja­cent asphalt park­ing area has just been replant­ed as a mead­ow and is most­ly a lot of rocks and short blades of grass (with some Fowler’s toads!). We were lucky enough to be the first pub­lic group to be there since this had all been cleared away.

Bonus: I did­n’t real­ize till we were about to get in our cars that South Jer­sey Trails was also on the tour. He wrote it up too! If you look care­ful­ly, I’m in the back­ground of one of the shots, and now that I’m look­ing I think that’s him in some of mine.