Frances Timbers - The Magical Adventures of Mary Parish

The greatest debt I owe is to Mary Tomson Boucher Lawrence Parish, whose story inspired me to push past many obstacles to present her life to the world. Her determination and creativity are truly inspiring! The story of Marys life presented in the following pages is an outgrowth of my dissertation work on gender and ceremonial magic at the University of Toronto, from which I received a great deal of support over the years. I can never repay the friendship and scholarly input of the Norns, in the form of Barbara Todd and Ariel Beaujot, who invested many hours of their time in discussion, debate, and beer drinking during the birthing of the Mary project. A very special thanks to my student Calin Wallace for his insightful analysis of one of the earlier versions of the manuscript. Thanks to the participants in the workshop held at the Berkshire Conference on the History of Women in June 2008 for their feedback on my presentation of Marys life as biography. The helpful comments from the two anonymous TSUP readers were also much appreciated. I am very grateful for the academic and financial support from the History Department at Trent University and CUPE Local 3908-1, during the years of bringing this project to fruition. Special mention to Truman State University Presss Early Modern Studies series editor Michael Wolfe for his enthusiastic reception of the original manuscript, and to Barbara Smith-Mandell for her ongoing support and direction during the publishing process. And much love to my small but fierce inner circle of family and friends, who never fail to support me, even when they think I am as crazy as Mary!

Samhain 2015

The sweet, cinnamon scent of juniper hung in the air. A fire crackled in the grate against the damp chill of an English spring. Wax candles burned brightly all around the room, creating a warm glow despite the morose occasion. Green velvet curtains were tied back at each of the round pillars of a richly carved oak bedstead and a fringed valance framed the elaborate headboard. A silk quilt lay folded at the foot of the bed. Several women and one desolate man stood around the bed gazing on the peaceful face of the just-deceased woman.

Mary Tomson Boucher Lawrence Parish had outlived her parents, her uncle, her three husbands, and most of her children, and was estranged from any remaining blood relatives. For the past week, her female friends had taken turns holding vigil around her bed. Throughout her illness, her companions had supported her both physically and spiritually, offering words of consolation and encouragement while they fussed and chatted. For the eight days that she had lain in the bed, she had refused any sustenance, only drinking a little water when coaxed. A few hours before her death, an Anglican priest had offered her last communion. She had barely had the strength to swallow the consecrated bread. Now there was nothing left to do but quietly escort her life partner, Goodwin Wharton, out of the room. The weeping man was distraught, but he could be comforted [4] to know that Mary had died a good death, surrounded by family and friends, while she graciously surrendered her life to God.

After Goodwin left, the women removed Marys nightclothes, unfolding her body out of the fetal position that she had maintained throughout her final days. They sponged her body with warm water scented with sprigs of rosemary to protect against evil and dressed her in a simple shift of clean linen. When they finished, Marys corpse lay in serene state, her head propped up on feather pillows and her arms crossed over her chest.

After the women finished their duties, Goodwin was allowed to re-enter the room. The grief for his companion of twenty years was held at bay only by the fear that the women might have noticed Marys condition as they washed and prepared her body for burial. The nurse, whom Goodwin had hired to attend her during her illness, reported that the body was clean, meaning that there were no signs of the small pustules that signaled smallpox. Of course, the woman would not have suspected that Mary could be pregnant at her age and would not have actively looked for any evidence to that effect. But what if their child was still alive and had moved in the womb while the women attended to Marys body?

Goodwin pulled back the bed linens and tentatively lifted her shift, laying his hands tenderly on her abdomen.

As Goodwin stared at the body of this woman he loved, he was reminded of their first meeting. Goodwin had approached Mary in order to obtain a play piece, a lucky charm that would bring him luck in gambling and help him out of his financial straits. Little did he suspect that his desire for luck at gambling would lead to a lifelong association with this remarkable woman.