| 7. |  Mary Ann Currie, 1820 Settler was born in 1816 (daughter of Lt. Walter Currie, 1820 Settler and Ann Lowe, 1820 Settler); died on 7 Oct 1858. Other Events and Attributes:
- 1820 Lineage: Yes
- Settler ID: 172
- Name: Mary Anne Currie 1820
- Settler: 12 Feb 1820, The Downs, Deal, Kent, England
- SCHL: School Attendance: 18 Jan 1828, Salem Academy, Salem, Eastern Cape, South Africa
Notes:
THE STORY OF MARY ANN HENCHMAN, FORMERLY PHILIPPS NEÉ CURRIE
I was born in Jersey, May 24th 1815 and emigrated to this Colony in 1820. We lived at Bathurst from 1823 and now commences my history.
With regard to education, I had very few advantages. I went to school with the boys, where I learned to read, write and speak bad grammar. I was a perfect ‘boy’ in all my pursuits until I reached the age of thirteen when I became acquainted with the family of Mr. and Mrs. Heddle and her two Sisters. I became very intimate with them and owe them much, for they took great pains with me in pointing out my faults and under their tuition, my manners greatly improved. From this time, for years, my life was one of unclouded sunshine. It is true that my Papa was severe and kept us all at a great distance from him, and under great restraint; but he was kind, so highly principled and strictly honourable, that I thought his opinion perfect. Mama was too kind and over indulgent. However, I do not think there was a happier household and although I had to assist in domestic affairs, it was never a burden too heavy to be born. I was blessed with health from one year’s end to another and I had my seasons for visiting and such like recreations.
In October 1834, I was with the full and perfect consent of my parents, engaged to be married to Frederick Thomas Philipps, who was born at Milford Haven in 1810 and also emigrated with his family in 1820. In 1835, the Colony was invaded by tribesmen, and ourselves with hundreds more deserted our homes and assembled at Grahamstown where we remained till the following May and then returned once more to happy Bathurst. In January 1836, Wolf’s Crag was purchased as my future home and May was fixed for our marriage …… but when May arrived, poor Papa was dangerously ill with dysentery and on 22nd June he left Bathurst for Grahamstown for the purpose of being nearer to medical advice. He bade me farewell and begged that upon my marriage, I would take charge of my two little sisters, Helen and Ann and bring them up as my own children, which duty I endeavoured to fulfil to the utmost of my humble ability. On the 21st July I was summoned to witness the death of my beloved parent. He knew me and enquired after the rest of the children and on the 22nd, exactly two months from his first being taken ill, he died leaving a widow and eight children to deplore the loss of one of the most excellent fathers and husbands, and just at a time when I was beginning to lose all reserve towards him and he made more of a companion of me.
October 25th 1836, at Bathurst, in the house where I had spent childhood’s happy hours and the joyous days of girlhood, I became the wife of Frederick Thomas Philipps. We had a snug cottage, Helen and Ann lived with me and all was bright and happy We spent our Christmas together with Mamma at Bathurst.
19th January 1837. We were visited by an awful thunderstorm and a messenger brought us the fearful intelligence that Mamma’s house had been struck by lightning and our dear little Charles killed lying asleep upon the sofa. He was my favourite brother and it was a dreadful shock to me. We lost no time riding to Bathurst to condole with my bereaved mother whom we found calm and resigned. My sweet little Charlie looked as if he were in a peaceful slumber, his eyelids fringed with long silken lashes resting on his pale cold cheek naturally as if he had but just fallen asleep. The establishment at Bathurst was then broken up and Mamma went to live at Langholm.
July 29th 1837. Our first born son came into this world of sorrow. A noble little fellow he was, but it pleased the God who gave him, to take him to Himself on the 3rd of August, ere we had scarcely tasted the delight of being parents and ere our innocent one knew aught of sin.
June 25th 1838. My dearest Charlotte was born, a sickly child, but with the greatest possible care, it pleased God to give her strength and to spare her to us.
May 1st 1839. We moved to a new farm called Penderry after having sold Wolf’s Crag. At this abode, everything went on prosperously and happily.
July 13th 1840. My dear boy Edward was born, also a sickly child but he too was spared to us.
September 6th 1842. The most beloved of all my children was born, my darling Walter, a sweet little child, but with him came many sorrows. I had a severe illness, which deprived me of my health for years and then too came pecuniary difficulties. Frederick stood security for his brother Edward, whose affairs become crooked and hence arose our troubles. It became expedient that we should sell our sheep and as the George district was considerably a better market at that time than Albany, thither we all went. We left Penderry on February 16th 1844 and on the road my pet Walter caught cold, which produced dysentery from which he never recovered.
On our return to Albany, the first news which assailed our ears was that Edward had failed and, in consequence of which, everything we possessed had been seized. Here was a blow not easily to be sustained and I grieve to acknowledge that I murmured piteously but I was justly punished for complaining against what my Heavenly Father in his mercy had permitted to befall upon me, so sinful a creature. How different was my dear Husband’s conduct, not a murmur escaped his lips. We had done all that human aid could suggest to save his property, but to no purpose and he bowed his head in silent resignation to the will of his Father, whom he was so shortly to meet face to face. We then went to Ettrick Hill where we remained for six weeks and the real kindness which was shown to Frederick and myself I trust will never be forgotten by me or mine.
July 1st 1844. We removed to Malangs Kraal where we were tolerably comfortable and although deprived of many of the comforts to which we had been accustomed, still we were happy. It is true that poor Frederick had to work from dusk until dark but his health was good, mine was better and our evenings were spent as cheerfully as if nothing had ever happened. On January 22nd 1845, it pleased God to take from me my sweet pet Walter. He had suffered for ten months and what a loss did I count it. He was so sweet a child, so obedient and patient and I mourned for him then but I have had reason to rejoice since, that God who worketh all things for good was so merciful and kind as to take unto Himself my darling child. I had not recovered from this heavy affliction when it pleased God to visit me with a still greater one.
March 13th 1845. We were visited by a most awful thunderstorm and with one stroke my dear husband translated from Earth to Heaven – what a blessed change for him. On his dying lips the name of his Saviour was whispered. He had lived near and walked with his God for years past so that for him to die, was gain. Thus at a stroke, in a moment, I was deprived of home and all earthly happiness but I was not deprived of Heavenly consolation. With tears, I sought that peace which the world could not give and I can never express how my soul was uplifted on that night. I felt as though I communed with my Saviour and my God face to face . . . and now I am left a widow with two children, homeless and destitute, perfectly penniless but my more than kind brothers have provided for all my wants, food, clothes and home and God will reward them for it. The debt that both my children and I owe them can never be repaid.
Shortly after the death of my poor Frederick, I went to live with my brother Joseph but my mind was in such a wretched state that although everything was done to make me happy, still all was utter desolation to me. Some kind friends met and contributed sheep to the amount of 500, which would soon yield a little income, but the cruel Frontier War demolished them to a mere cipher, our little furniture, books etc. burnt – this occurred in 1846. From that date until the last year, I scarcely knew what it was to enjoy a happy feeling.
July 8th 1846. I came to Ettrick Hills and from that time have enjoyed more real happiness and comfort than I have experienced since the death of my dear Husband and the break up of my own happy home but there is a heavy burden still upon my soul and a very bitter draught which I drink daily . . . and that is being dependent upon my Brothers who can ill afford to sustain three useless beings. I have many a night at thought until my brain has ached to find out some means of providing respectably for myself and children and I cannot. Oh, may I be kept contented with my lot – it is the Lord’s doing.
Now, my dearest and only ties upon this earth, Charlotte and Edward, I have written the heads of the principal eras of my life, that you may know something of your parents should I be taken from you suddenly while you are young. Remember that your father was an honest, upright, industrious man, mild and amiable in disposition, an affectionate husband and father, a good son and brother, a God fearing man, and remember too, it was from no fault of his that you are portionless. My dearest children, take a Mother’s advice when you read this, she may be no more, but never let prosperity or domestic happiness induce you to neglect the bountiful giver. Live near to your Saviour in prosperity and adversity; let Him be first in your thoughts.
And as long as you live, let your circumstances be what they may, never be ungrateful to your three Uncles Walter, Joseph and William. All that you can do my children, will never repay them for their kindness and generosity, and real charity to us. Be guided by their advice and example and neglect no opportunity of doing anything you possibly can for them and may God bless and prosper them, and you too my poor dear children.
I have nothing more to say except that should I not live to see my Edward attain his twenty-first birthday, my seals, also the few spoons and his Father’s Secretaire are for him; a gold chain and earrings, also a few other trinkets are for Charlotte. And now my darlings, farewell. I may live to see many happy days, but our time is in the hands of the Lord and I have seen how suddenly we may be called away. Therefore, I consider this act a positive duty. May we all be God’s children and meet in Heaven, this is the daily prayer of your
Affectionate Mother
Mary Ann Philipps
~~
Mary Ann Philipps’ account of her husband’s death
October 25th 1849
Ettrick Hills
This day thirteen years ago, I was a happy bride. Who then could have thought that I should have lived to write such a melancholy chapter, but again the “Lord hath done what seemeth good”.
The 13th March 1845 was an excessively sultry day. My Husband had gone to the fair, and returned about 3 o’clock p.m., bringing with him several of our friends and relations to dinner. Our friends all left us about sunset when Frederick proposed a walk in the garden and Indian Corn fields. Accordingly we took a long ramble; the children and their Grandpapa accompanied us. After looking at the pigs and shutting up the poultry, we went in to tea. Charlotte, as was her custom, brought her Papa’s slippers and wished him goodnight. At tea time we heard distant thunder and Frederick got up and opened the door and said, “That is a very singular looking cloud. It appears as if it were coming direct for this house!” After tea I went as usual into the Nursery to see if all was right, and I found poor Margaret looking pale and anxious. I enquired what the matter was – “Oh Ma’am, I feel so afraid of that storm,” she said, pointing towards the direction of the cloud. I went to the window and watched for a moment or two and I perceived the cloud was approaching slowly and terrifically, most heavily charged with electricity. Every moment forked streaks were coming straight towards the ground. I changed colour and trembled violently but said to the poor girl, “Why, Margaret, you read your Bible, and you know if your trust is in your Blessed saviour, all will be well. It is a dreadful storm, but pray for strength.” I then kissed my two sleeping children who little thought what the minutes would bring, what real sorrow was near at hand. I returned to the parlour, when Frederick said, pointing to the sofa, “I think this is the safest place in the room”. He took my hand to lead me to the sofa and I felt it was very cold. I looked at his face; it was calm but pale. We sat down side by side. He put one arm round me and rested his cheek upon the other. Poor old Mr. Philipps sat with his youngest son a little way from us and each was in solemn communication with his Maker. The thunder was crashing with scarcely a moment’s intermission; it appeared in constant streams.
Just then Charlotte woke, and rushed pale and trembling into my arms. She did not speak, but took hold of her Papa’s hand. At that same time poor Margaret opened the door and stood there. Then came the fatal stroke and when I recovered my senses, there was my Charlotte lying screaming at my feet unable to move. I could speak but was unable to move either my hands or feet. I turned my head towards Frederick and in an instant it came into my mind that he was gone. Mr. Philipps, who had received none of the shock, flew to him and distinctly heard the words, “Jesus, Jesus,” . . . . it was his last breath . . . . precious words which have been my greatest consolation. Charlotte’s screams had awakened poor little Edward (just then five years old) who came running out. “Oh Mamma, what have you done to Papa, he does not speak and looks so white, why does Charlotte cry, and where is Margaret?” For the first time I thought of Margaret, and saw all the black servants were there, and she not. Then it flashed upon my mind, I went to the nursery door and there was poor Margaret lying, ever so black and disfigured. The greater quantity of the ‘fluid’ had come into that room, but it was but a small spark that took my dear Husband. I could not look at him after 2 o’clock as he also became discoloured. All that night I could not shed a tear; I felt a hot burning pain across my chest. At dawn I went outside and the birds were all singing so merrily, it seemed such mockery to my desolate heart that I went into the house of woe and burst into tears, which relieved me for the time. I sent a messenger off immediately for my mother and brothers, who arrived shortly after daylight. The coffins were made by a neighbour. Our relations and friends met once more, the very same who had dined there on that day, and followed his remains to the grave. He was laid by the side of our little Walter, who had died seven weeks before, and for him, Margaret had sorrowed very deeply.
ooooOoooo
Transcribed from “The Chapter of Mary Ann Philipps neé Currie”. Compiled by Dave Glenister, 2007
by Ian Howard Currie (ian.currie22@gmail.com)
Settler:
Willson's party on the La Belle Alliance
Notes:
Death:
Description: killed by Lightning
Children:
- nn Philipps was born on 29 Jul 1837 in Bathurst, Eastern Cape, South Africa; died on 3 Aug 1837 in Bathurst, Eastern Cape, South Africa.
- 3. Charlotte Harriet Ann Philipps was born on 25 Jun 1838; was christened on 28 Jun 1838; died in 1927 in Germiston, Gauteng, South Africa.
- Edward Thomas Philipps was born on 13 Jul 1840 in Grahamstown, Eastern Cape, South Africa; died on 24 May 1881 in East London, Eastern Cape, South Africa.
- Walter Philipps was born on 6 Sep 1842; died on 22 Jan 1845.
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1865 - 1921 (56 years)
Charlotte Harriet Ann Philipps was born on 25 Jun 1838; was christened on 28 Jun 1838 (daughter of Frederick Thomas Philipps, 1820 Settler and Mary Ann Currie, 1820 Settler); died in 1927 in Germiston, Gauteng, South Africa. 
Thomas Philipps, 1820 Settler was born in 1776 in Milford, Pembrokeshire, Wales (son of Edward Philipps and Katherine Harries); died on 1 Sep 1859 in Grahamstown, Eastern Cape, South Africa; was buried in Grahamstown, Eastern Cape, South Africa. 
Ann Lowe, 1820 Settler was born in 1794 in Jersey, Channel Islands (daughter of John Lowe); died on 22 Sep 1858 in Grahamstown, Eastern Cape, South Africa. 
