Susanna Eastman Swan
When I was young one of my favorite books was “Wait For Me, Watch For Me Eula Bee”. The book tells a story about a young boy trying to rescue his sister from the Indians (native Americans) who had captured her, while their father is off fighting in the Civil War. What captured my attention was the sense of fear I felt for them. Yet I also felt a sense of hopefulness as the brother desperately attempts to rescue his sister.
As I was looking into my own family history to my surprise I found one of my ancestors had been captured by Indians over three hundred years ago. Not once, but twice! One of those times her young daughter was killed before her eyes and then she was taken captive. Susanna Eastman Swan was her name, though at the time, she was Susanna Wood (she was married to Thomas Wood at the time).
I cannot fathom the sorrow and fear she must have felt. I had read about such a tragedy and their eventual reunion. But the loss of a child and the fear of what would happen to herself must have been overwhelming. Susanna Wood persevered though and eventually escaped captivity almost 2 years later. The tale of her courageous escape was extolled in a poem written by her granddaughter (included below).
Half of year later she married John Swan. Later she fended over another attempt to capture her. By this time, Susanna decided to avoid another attack, she and her family moved from Haverhill, Massachusetts to Stonington, Connecticut. From there, she lived out her life until she was nearly one hundred years old.
Susanna Eastman Swan was born 5 November 1673 in Salisbury, Essex, Massachusetts. She died 20 March 1772 in Stonington, New London, Connecticut.
I am not sure if there is anyway to compare my struggles in my life with that of hers. Time and circumstance have changed the struggles we face today. Susanna’s sufferings, fears, and anxieties may seem like begone struggles from an era long ago. Yet she lived a full life with a family and several children for nearly one hundred years. When I look over Susanna’s story, I find inspiration for my own life. Then I wonder what my descendants will gain from looking at my life. What will be their struggles? Will I be able to inspire them to live a full life? As for me, I look to Susanna and I draw some strength and courage to face my challenges, for some of her blood flow in me today, and not just me but hundreds of her descendants.
One of them, a granddaughter, wrote this poem to commemorate her courage:
Susannah Swan
While wintry winds are sighing around our cottage door,
And deepening snows are drifting the garden hillocks o’er,
We’ll pile the logs still higher upon the hearth’s red glow,
And tell a tale of olden time, our grandsire used to know.
How the prowling Indians came, and stole Susannah Swan away
To their lonely forest camp ground, and made her captive stay;
While hearts were sore and aching in Haverhill’s busy town.
As vainly her kinsfolk sought with runners up and down.
Her eyes were bright and winsome, her voice was sweet and clear,
Her heart was staunch and brave, and never shrank with fear,
As far from home and kindred, within the dark green wood,
Beside their rude built cabins, the lonely captive stood.
She sang them songs at twilight; returning from the chase
The dusky warriors gathered round, and gazed upon her face
Whose loveliness and purity had like a vision rolled
Before their darkened minds in sunset hues of gold.
They held her long for ransom, those children of the wild;
The warriors gave her bear’s meat, the swarthy women piled
Their softest furs for her a couch beside their wigwams fire,
And sought to soothe by kindly deeds her longing heart’s desire.
To while away the weary day, her willing hands oft strove
To form the baskets varying shape, to plait the mats they wove;
Yet in the silent night time, when she laid her fair head down,
Her active mind was planning to regain old Haverhill’s town.
Each night her songs she lengthened out—it banished all their care,
As echoes of their tenderness was wafted on the air;
They slept the sleep of nature, unbroken, deep and long.
It made their brown limbs supple; it made their wild hearts strong.
In the first cool days of autumn, ere the summer took her flight,
She placed her shoes outside the door one calm and moonlight night.
Her songs were low and sweeter, as they laid them down to rest;
She sang of home and freedom from the fount within her breast.
And still the melody grew lower, till slumber fell profound
Upon those children of the wild stretched upon the ground.
God gave her strength to bravely dare, He led her safely o’er
Those prostrate forms of sleeping foes; and thus she gained the door.
Grasping her shoes with stealthy step, no sound broke upon the ear,
She glided down the well-worn path and sought the trail so near;
The giant trees, with sheltering arms, securely hid her flight,
As the brave woman struggled on that bright and starlight night.
Her feet were sore and bleeding, her limbs were bruised and torn,
Yet she was miles and miles away at breaking of the morn.
That trail is now one cultured field that buds and blooms for man;
Then drear and lonely was the way that fearless woman ran.
And there was great rejoicing, with goodly words of cheer
From pastor and from people, from kinsfolk far and near,
That God had shown His mercy, protecting through the wild,
And, bringing home in safety, had thus redeemed His child.
She lived one hundred years. That brave old heart of yore
To children’s children told the tale they since repeated o’er,
As gathered round the blazing logs in winter’s stormy time,
What I have told again tonight and blended into rhyme.
Dear little niece, whose wondering eyes have never left my face,
To you, with joy, I dedicate these lines I trace.
Be brave of heart, like her of old, amid the world’s rude strife,
And crowned with grace and loveliness, long lead a noble life.
Here are a picture of her gravestone:
Here are some links about her:
Findagrave:
Giles Family History Blog:
FamilySearch:
Here is my connection to her:
- Susannah Eastman (1673 - 1772)
- 7th great-grandmother
- Nathaniel Swan (1709 - 1755)
- son of Susannah Eastman
- Jesse Swan (1738 - 1803)
- son of Nathaniel Swan
- Nathaniel Swan (1778 - 1871)
- son of Jesse Swan
- Henry Swan (1805 - 1879)
- son of Nathaniel Swan
- Henry Hunting Swan (1851 - 1917)
- son of Henry Swan
- Albert Jackson Swan (1877 - 1948)
- son of Henry Hunting Swan
- Walter James Swan (1916 - 1994)
- son of Albert Jackson Swan
(1941 - ) - son of Walter James Swan
- Jared Thomas Swan
- You are the son of
I would invite anyone who is a descendant of Susanna Eastman Swan to leave a comment and share your thoughts. If you have more information, or have more accurate information, about Susanna I would love to hear more. Leave a comment or contact me.
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