Aditi's References

Grade 8 History Textbook
http://www.hastingspress.co.uk/history/19/taylor.htm
http://www.hastingspress.co.uk/history/19/overview.htm



Dear beloved diary,                                            Sept.1^st.1857

          I am a newly wed, married to Jacob Lockwood. It has been 7 years since my wedding; I am now 21 years old. My husband and I have had 5 beautiful children: Jane, Nicholas, Scott, Penny, and Bella. I am now pregnant with our 6^th child. With a fast growing family, I have fallen into depression and am very lonely. My name is Margaret Lockwood, and I am a woman, living life in the 1850s.

My family and I, live on a small farm on the edge of a town. The farmhouse is where I spend all of my time. Although it is very old and rusty, it is my only home. The roof leaks every time it rains, the wooden walls are falling apart and are creaking throughout the day. The shutters are broken- letting the early sun come pouring in.  Outside there are chickens roaming the grounds, crops growing wildly, and animal’s fattening- getting ready to eat.

Living on a farm is a lot of hard work. I must plant the fields in spring, care for the plants in summer, and harvest the crops in fall. Afterward I walk 5 miles to the small town, close to my home and trade the surplus goods.

My married life is my profession. My husband has all control over me. I have no right to divorce, unlike my husband. He has no respect for me; he has brought home prostitutes every other night. Even then, I am forced into having sex with him, doing all domestic chores, farming, trading, and caring for my young. If I ever defy my husband, I am left covered in blood and bruises for I am brutally beaten.

My religious beliefs of the role of the women are fixed. I am inferior to my husband. He has the final word to everything to be done. The house, land, our children, including ME is his property, and I must respect his very wish. My husband has very high expectations  of me… and I must meet them all, including doing all of the housework.

 I am expected to make bread daily in the outdoor oven; I dread the painful work of kneading the dough. My hands turn black, and blue from the bitter cold. I feel as if I am living in a tight bubble, only allowed to leave for brief pampering of my “so- called husband”. If it weren’t for my kitchen I would be slowly driven mad, for the kitchen is my only form of self- expression.

          Preparing meals is a demanding a job. Every night I must set and clear the table, wash the dishes and pots, clean the stove and sink, and sweep the kitchen. I must provide a feast for my demanding husband at each meal, which he greedily devours, leaving little to none food left, for my children and I. My children have become so weak, for I have begun to give my small share of food to them, threatening the life of my unborn child.

Life as women in 1850, living in a state a little better than slavery is hard. I live for my children, and stay with my husband in fear of my life. Tomorrow shall bring another day full of struggles and hardships. But for now there is work to be done.

                                                                       Yours truly,

                                                Margaret Lockwood

By: Aditi Tandon

Dear Beloved Diary,                                   Sept.8.1857

Religion. This one word has kept me bound to these old wooden walls of this farmhouse. Religious beliefs of mine have forced me to swear before God, to obey my husband. My husband- he has all power over me, as do the men in government controlling all political affairs.

All property and money I had owned when I was single, is now after marriage- belongs to Jacob. He had sold my property, and used my money to re- marry a mistress named Elena. He too, used her as a sex service, but never forced her to work, as I. Jacob has begun showering Elena with the finest things.

After 7 years of love, betrayal, beatings, name calling, and lust- I still thought that Jacob still loved me…………. But I was a fool to believe that. I see Elena; today- because I never questioned his long nights not coming home, dozens of mysterious women’s letter asking for Jacob- I was the one who did the wrong. I am now beginning to believe my role of the women: to remain quiet, and be a servant to my “god- like” husband. This arrogant woman Elena, is the queen for this high-tempered beast, I call my husband. 

         I am forbidden to divorce or run away from my authority figure. For once, I had made the mistake of running from my husband. I still remember that night. My husband had hauled me back by my hair, and beat me, as my children watched in horror. I was left to suffer alone, as my husband laughed at the sight of my bloody body, and returned to his mistress, and together they both left.

        Since I was 5 years old, I had begun to do all chores of the house- spinning wool, knitting, sewing, cooking, working in the garden, milking the cows, and caring for my younger siblings.  My dream career is not to cook and clean, but entering the medicine profession. As of political control, women are unable to enter their professions. I felt as if being a woman is a sin. For years I have been wallowing in self-pity, for the women of this community are afraid for their lives, to revolt against the almighty powerful men of this government.

        My only freedom both mentally and physically, to this house of horror- is seeing my children’s faces, and occasionally going to Sunday church. Even then I must put on a poker face, to produce an illusion for all friends and family.

My body is unable to work. My pregnancy has made my daily work more painful, time consuming, and difficult than it already is. Jacob has used all of the family’s finest hunted meats, and money from trade on Elena. Even so, I cannot make clothes for my poor, skinny children. With cold winters approaching, I am worried one of my children may not make it.

          Love hurts, even if it is right or wrong. A small part of me still loves my cruel husband. But it has become too much, it is only a matter a time before I can’t take it anymore. I have lost all hope. I have become weary from thought. I need rest; for tomorrow I must mend a new mattress out of straw, for my children. Politically, socially, and economically- for I am afraid to say- men dominate these elements.

                                                                            

                                                                     Yours truly,

Margaret Lockwood

                                      



By: Aditi Tandon

Rabia's List Of References

http://www.hastingspress.co.uk/history/19/overview.htm

http://womenshistory.about.com/od/worklaborunions/a/early_america.htm

http://www.hastingspress.co.uk/history/19/taylor.htm

Grade 8 History Textbook

Margaret's Diary

September 27^th, 1857

            

            I feel free. Like a bird. For days, now I have been smiling. I feel happy, which I haven’t felt for a long time now. Everything feels......amazing. Currently, I am in hiding- but I don’t mind. I am very surprised, actually, that my plan has worked. I feel proud of myself, and for once I do not feel like I am someone’s slave. I have the urge to tell someone proudly of what I have done, that I have stood up. I cannot exactly tell my children, for I am not quite sure, they will understand. Then again, what is this diary for? I still remember when my governess gave me my first diary. It was my desire to become a governess but, no, instead I got married.

           

             I was very depressed after my miscarriage- to be honest, that topic is still very painful. Then I realized that I just could not sit around and wallow in self pity. I noticed that the house was crumbling apart, and so I decided to use that as my excuse. While Jacob and Elena amused themselves, I climbed up to the roof. I struggled in pain, but it was worth it. As soon as I managed to go up on the roof, Jacob came out with Annabelle. He said something about trying not to make the roof fall in, but I was busy looking at Annabelle. She had this arrogant look on her face which still bothers me. However, when the two lovebirds left, I called my children. I asked them to climb up to the roof. When they did, I told them we had to go somewhere far away. They quickly agreed for they know good lies in this.

           

             I took some items and stuffed them in to my many reticules. I also took some of my jewelery. If time came, I would trade. I will no longer be someone’s slave. I will work, save, and make a new home for me and my children. The only problem is that I have to do this in hiding. The police can catch me and Jacob has the right to imprison me. The surprising thing is that I am not scared. I will never be, and I will teach my children the same.

                                                                                                                                                        Margaret Lockwood

By Rabia    

Margaret's Diary

September 21^st, 1857

Today was...........terrifying. I won’t ever forget this day. Jacob brought home a deer he had hunted earlier today. This was rare, and Jacob was proud of himself-as always. While Penny and I stood there skinning the deer, he just sat around cuddling with Elena. It was always like this. He hunts. I cook. He builds the house, and I knit or sew the linens, rugs, etc. I am the one that makes his clothing and after all this, he still prefers Elena? I burn with jealousy whenever I see them together. I was supposed to be his wife, I did everything to make him happy and he still wanted a mistress? Right then I wished I could get away, and it struck me. The herbs Annabelle gave me really had worked a miracle. Nicholas was feeling much better. I had to thank her in some way, so I decided to take the half of the deer and give it to Annabelle. I thought that this little trip would let me get away from my hectic life, what I didn’t know was that this trip would make my life a disaster.

               

               I had a great time with Annabelle, we talked and talked. We went from one subject to another. We talked about how unfair it was that men had the right to spend our inheritance on mistresses and prostitutes. About how men could do anything while, us woman only had limited power.  I am amazed at her. She manages her home and her work. Even if she gets paid lower then her husband, she still manages to get by. I used to help out Jacob in the farm but after having my 3^rd child, I was far too busy. Mending clothes, cooking, cleaning, taking care of the kids just took too much time. Many women are allowed to work or have their own business such as midwives, which I think is great. I have asked Jacob many times but he never agrees.

             I wanted to keep talking to Annabelle but I could only stay for so long.  When I got home, everything was a mess. Scott was crying, and Bella and Nicholas were fighting. As I tried to calm them down, Jacob started yelling at me. After 7 years of marriage, love, and service to him, I never thought he would say those things to me. He called me careless for leaving the kids, and selfish for taking half of the deer. I am not the one that is careless, he is! Why do the women only have to do this type of work? Are the men’s jobs only to sit around with a mistress? I am not the selfish one in this family, he is! He is the one who with the mistress; he is the one that does not care about his wife or his children. But it is not like he cared. After saying those accursed things, his temper got the better of him. He threw me down, and I fell to the ground- on my stomach. I was carrying my child in my stomach, did he not realize that? My child died before it was even born. The last thing I saw, before I fainted in pain, was Annabelle. There she sat, looking proud, and smug.

               

                All I know is that I need to save my kids- the ones that are alive at least. I have had enough of this, and I need to get away. I cannot just lie in my bed, and wallow in self pity.  I have a plan- and I intend to carry it out. I will be another Susannah Palmer.

                                                              

                                                                                                                                                          Margaret Lockwood

                                                                                                                                                                                         By Rabia

Tharmiga's Bibliography

• http://www2.canadiana.ca/citm/themes/constitution/constitution10_e.html
• http://richardjohnbr.blogspot.com/2008/02/women-in-politics-1800-1850-period-of.html
• http://www.helium.com/items/810338-a-look-at-the-american-political-parties-of-the-1850s
• http://www.hastingspress.co.uk/history/19/taylor.htm
• http://www.hastingspress.co.uk/history/19/overview.htm