Hazard, Hannah

Hazard, Hannah

Female - Aft 1784

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  • Name Hazard, Hannah 
    Gender Female 
    Died Aft 6 Jun 1784 
    Person ID I7290  Sackett
    Last Modified 18 Jan 2009 

    Father Hazard, Nathaniel,   d. Unknown 
    Mother Alsop, Deborah,   d. Unknown 
    Children
    1. Hazard, Hannah,   d. Aft 6 Jun 1784
     
    Family ID F2969  Group Sheet  |  Family Chart

    Family Sackett, Rev. Samuel,   b. 2 Mar 1712,   d. 5 Jun 1784  (Age 72 years) 
    Married 1734 
    Children 
     1. Sackett, Deborah,   b. 15 Jan 1733,   d. 17 Dec 1745  (Age 12 years)
     2. Sackett, Joseph,   b. 18 Apr 1735,   d. 1 Dec 1757, Crompond, Westchester, New York, USA Find all individuals with events at this location  (Age 22 years)
     3. Sackett, Nathaniel Sr.,   b. 10 Apr 1737, Cornwall, Orange County, New York, USA Find all individuals with events at this location,   d. 28 Jul 1805, Sackett's Lake, Sullivan, New York, USA Find all individuals with events at this location  (Age 68 years)
     4. Sackett, Mercy,   b. 3 Mar 1739,   d. 15 Sep 1741  (Age 2 years)
     5. Sackett, Samuel,   b. 18 Jun 1741,   d. Aug 1741  (Age 0 years)
     6. Sackett, Samuel,   b. 24 May 1743,   d. 16 Sep 1745  (Age 2 years)
     7. Sackett, William,   b. 8 Jul 1744,   d. 16 Sep 1745  (Age 1 years)
     8. Sackett, Deborah,   b. 25 Oct 1746,   d. 14 Jul 1769  (Age 22 years)
     9. Sackett, Capt. Samuel,   b. 10 Jul 1749,   d. 15 Apr 1780  (Age 30 years)
     10. Sackett, Hannah,   b. 1751,   d. 22 Jun 1836, Pompey, Onondaga County, New York, USA Find all individuals with events at this location  (Age 85 years)
     11. Sackett, Ebenezer,   b. 16 Oct 1753,   d. 21 Oct 1761  (Age 8 years)
     12. Sackett, James,   b. 3 Oct 1756,   d. 28 Aug 1791  (Age 34 years)
    Last Modified 25 Jan 2009 
    Family ID F2968  Group Sheet  |  Family Chart

  • Event Map
    Link to Google MapsChild - Sackett, Nathaniel Sr. - 10 Apr 1737 - Cornwall, Orange County, New York, USA Link to Google Earth
     = Link to Google Earth 
    Pin Legend Address Cemetery Street/Feature Town/Village/Neighborhood Township/Parish City County/Shire State/Province Country Region/Continent/Ocean Not Set

  • Notes 
    • Thomas Hazard, the grandfather of Hannah, wife of Rev. Samuel Sackett, came to Boston from Wales in 1635. In 1636 the General Court of Massachusetts Bay admitted him to Freemanship. In 1652 he sought and obtained from Director Stuyvesant, of New Amsterdam, in behalf of himself and a goodly company of English men from New England, permission to plant a town within his jurisdiction. "The fertile lands of Mespot, L. I., being yet, for the most part unoccupied, afforded a bright field for the enterprise, and soon a group of cottages, fashioned after those of New England, arose to adorn the settlement." The most of these were located upon the street whereon the Presbyterian Church of Newtown now stands.

      Among the privileges granted by Director Stuyvesant to the villagers, was the free exercise of the Protestant religion and the choice of their own Scheppens or magistrates: making annually a double nomination of the best qualified persons in the town, from whom the Director General and Council should select and confirm one-half in office whose authority extended to the collection and disbursement of town revenues and most other matters affecting the peace and security of their municipality." Under the above arrangement Thomas Hazard was the first person nominated and confirmed as a magistrate, and he was retained in office by renomination and by reappointment for a long consecutive term of years.

      In 1653, the year after Thomas Hazard and his associates from New England came to Long Island, Indians and freebooters became very troublesome and committed many serious depredations. The English towns, aroused by their losses and a sense of personal insecurity, first called a meeting at Flushing and then sent delegates to meet the Burgermasters at New Amsterdam in joint session, at the City Hall, on the 25th day of November of that year, to devise some plan for their common safety. Thomas Hazard was a delegate from his town to this and subsequent councils held at New Amsterdam for the same and similar objects.


      Jonathan Hazard, son of Thomas and grandfather of Hannah, wife of Rev. Samuel Sackett, married Hannah Laurenson, daughter of James Laurenson, and resided permanently at Newtown, becoming even more prominent and influential in civil affairs than his father had been. He served acceptably under various English Governors of the Province, thirteen years as a magistrate in the various courts, four years as Supervisor, one year as an Assessor, and throughout the greater part of his adult life as Town Surveyor. He died in 1711, survived by three sons and two daughters, who inherited a substantial estate.

      Nathaniel Hazard, son of Jonathan, married Deborah Alsop Simpkins, daughter of Richard Alsop, and wife of Capt. John Simpkins. They were the parents of Hannah Hazard, wife of Rev. Samuel Sackett. Nathaniel Hazard began his business career as a merchant at Newtown, but soon removed to New York and from there to Philadelphia, where he acquired unusual prominence. His son Ebenezer became Postmaster General of the United States, and edited several valuable contributions to American History.

      Hannah Hazard, the wife of Rev. Samuel Sackett, was in several respects a remarkable woman. The following letter, written by her to her daughter Hannah, gives an interesting insight of her character, and presents a graphic picture of domestic life "in the days that tried men's souls." The original is in possession of Mrs. Anne C. Gott, of Irondequoit, N. Y., one of her descendants:

      Dear Child:

      When I tell you that I have but Hannah to call upon and have had to nurse the sick for a week during which Mr. Bernit has lodged here, and that Frank has had the smallpox and been useless to me these three weeks, you will not wonder that I have not been able to find time to acknowledge the receipt of your friendly epistle before. I have been harrassed to death and so afflicted with pain in my breast and stomach that I have scarce been able to sit up. I am getting the better of it I hope, for I trust I have no reason to fear death, yet pain is and ever will be a disagreeable companion to live with.

      Do you think you can be contented with your new abode and acquaintances? If I can leave my mother I shall endeavor to make you a visit this spring. Her disorder will not permit me to be long absent. When you are weary of your present retreat you must make an excursion hither, my house and half a bed, more I cannot offer because I have not more than one, though, if you insist upon it I think, upon due deliberation, I will return to my old method of lodging on the floor and resign the whole bedstead with the necessary furniture to you. I had thought of sending for you some days ago to bid you a final adieu for this world but my live seems to be reanimated. How long the dying lamp will continue its fainting beams I am not much concerned to know, but only am I anxious what remains of it shall be spent usefully. The seeds you wish I will send, but have not so many as I wish I could supply you with, some have been destroyed, some lost, some the rats have eat, for moving so often and the confusion which is the almost unavoidable consequence of it, has prevented me from taking that care of them I used to do. Of what I have you shall be a sharer.

      I had a visit yesterday from Mr. Evans. I wished for you to make one of the party. You may perceive by this no design to monopolize the man. He dined with me and sang for me but did not make a long visit, being under the necessity of returning to Peekskill to visit a condemned malefactor. I like him very well on better acquaintance. He has recovered his health and is in good spirits. I believe he would have been very glad to see you. I am more than half sorry you have sold your farm and if your family settles there shall, as soon as I can, quit this place and return to my friends at New York. But this place and return to my friends at New York. But this I can not do until the commotion in the land subsides, and that is an event which to human sagacity must appear remote. Were not my mother with me I could easily follow you, but unless necessity induces me to a removal I shall not do a thing to which she is so averse. I flatter myself sometimes that I shall yet execute my favorite plan of operations, that is to build at the hill near my sister at the Bowery and to have you spend the winters with me. I hope your father will be able to return to his congregation after a while, and then the distance between this and New York will not prevent you from making us a winter visit. And I can repay in summer. However we can not tell where Providence will cast our future lot. Yet we may, innocently enough I believe, please ourselves with such agreeable prospects, what ever in a world of vicissitudes may be our portion. May the bosom of God be our final abode and place of rest. Tell me how you employ yourself, whether in harmless plain work, or

      By murmuring brooke
      Observe the gliding streams or croaking rooks
      Or with dull rural sports, dull scenes or duller books?

      I am ready to chide myself for this little sally of humor. The fire of vivacity is not quite extinguished in my soul, though almost suffocated under heaps of cares, sorrows and disorders. Should these be removed I imagine I should be, as once, the life of society. I sigh when I look back on the time when I sparkled in the gay circles of my acquaintance: frank, easy, lively, brilliant, and innocent as gay - the darling and delight of all my numerous associates who were ready to divide me in pieces to share me among them, each contending who should have me. How often it has raised my vanity to observe the preference and peculiar distinction now buried in the deep obscurity of the remotest solitude, unknowing and noknown of the Beau Monde.

      But why should I regret that homage since I have exchanged to such advantage. Why should my fond ungrateful heart complain. Yet 'tis as a certain author observes, like an Isaac trial, and one had need have Abraham's faith to have God instead of the world. Who would not? But alas sorrows, exersized with a variety of cares and anxieties, oppressed with the languor of sickness and almost expiring under temptations, constrained to labor though scarcely able to sit up, without one kind friend or relative to lift the homely latch of my cottage and assist in cheering and soothing such variety of wretchedness. I might add other calamities but is a dismal group of the most awful and gloomy images already drawn together. And who that should be told, this is your lot, could without shuddering hear the dreadful doom announced. Yet all this and more than this I have suffered, and in the midst of much suffering smiled - have forgot my own woes often while I have endeavored to alleviate those of others and cheered the drooping hearts of my fellow sufferers. I am sensible that infinite goodness ordains, directs and superintends all human events, and that all things are ordered in mercy. Some things I have undergone have not been properly through my own default but my want of fortitude has given energy to the evil of adverse circumstances and rendered them more afflicting. When I hope in God it appeases the fury of the storm, but when this delightful and supporting thought vanishes I sink, and who can wonder I do so under my burdens. I sometimes please myself with thinking that like Job it shall be better with me at the latter end than in the beginning. This injures no one, and should it be no more than an airy fancy it will not harm me as it buoies up my disponding soul and seems like a friendly gale to assist in wafting me over the waters of the troubled ocean of mortality. And when I reach the haven of Eternity I shall but smile to reflect that the prospect and flattering expectations of the sunshine of prosperity had cheered me when tossed on the boisterous surges of life. May you be preserved from such painful exegencies. Your own lot you think deplorable, yet at present it is not so. Secure in the bosom of parents who, if in their conduct there is a fault, it is in too great tenderness for you. And why should you anticipate misfortunes you may never live to experience and which you are apt to suppose would be consequent upon their death. Oh. Hannah, one needful care is to gain the favor of God and then leave the events of your life with him who will choose wisely and can but choose most kindly for you, tho' perhaps not as your own wild desires would be ready to demand.

      I have exceeded the intended bounds of this letter. Excuse me, if you are tired of reading let me know it and the next shall by its brevity compensate for the tediousness of this.

      I am dear Hannah affectionately yours.
      April 23, 1777


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