admissionbecame part of the official lore of the society, a kind of sacred myth clearly meant to show that the Deity Himself had taken a direct hand in the founding of the institution. As recounted in an 1844 pamphlet issued by the society, the story went as follows:
Having lost her parents when about five years of age, [Betsey] was received by an aunt, affectionate but poor, who adopted her as her own. Soon after, disease attacked this aunt and she expected to die. Her principal anxiety now was what would become of this destitute child. In the moment of her distress, she was visited by a friend, who told her that a place was just established under the management of the ladies of Boston for female orphan children, and that they would certainly receive the child on application being made to them.
Overjoyed at this unexpected information, she exclaimed: “Thank God for providing that place for my little girl!”
The asylum had been in existence for just a few months when the Board of Managers was confronted with an unforeseen dilemma. At its fourth meeting, in December 1800, a young mother “in a very distressed situation” appeared before the board. Unable to provide for her little girl, the distraught woman made a tearful plea to the managers, beseeching them to accept her child “in the name of humanity.” Since the asylum had initially been conceived strictly as a place for “those who had neither father nor mother,” this appeal set off a spirited debate among the board members.
In the end, by a vote of eight to six, they agreed to accept the little girl. From that day forth, the Boston Female Asylum was open not only to orphans, but to any suffering child, even if her parents were still alive. Anyone who placed a girl in the institution—whether parent, guardian, or next of kin—was required to sign an official “form of surrender,” relinquishing “all right and claim to her and her services,” and promising “not to interfere with the management of her in any respect whatsoever.”
In the following decades, the asylum continued to expand its operations. By the middle of the century, the society was able to purchase a plot of land in the southerly part of the city and erect a handsome new building. Nearly 100 girls between the ages of three and ten resided there at any given time.
Their breakfasts consisted of hasty pudding, boiled rice with molasses, or milk porridge thickened with flour, depending on the season. Their dinner menus remained the same from week to week: soup on Monday and Wednesday, boiled meat on Tuesday, pork and beans on Thursday, lamb broth on Friday, fish on Saturday, and roast meat and pudding on Sunday.
Their education was restricted to “those useful things suitable to their age, sex, and station.” Since their sex was female and their station distinctly lower class, this meant that (according to official reports of the asylum) they were taught to read, spell, and cipher only “so far as necessary.” Mostly, they were instructed in domestic skills: sewing, knitting, cooking, and housekeeping.
When a girl reached the age of eleven, she was “placed out” with a private family. Only a relative handful were actually adopted. Most became indenturedservants, legally bound—usually for a term of six or seven years—to the families who took them in. Indeed, the Boston Female Asylum served a dual purpose, functioning as both a refuge for indigent children and a source of cheap domestic labor.
In exchange for room, board, and the promise of “kind treatment,” the overburdened mistress of a large New England household could receive her own personal house-servant—a well-trained menial, contractually bound to perform whatever drudgery was demanded of her. It is clear that many Boston-area women regarded this as an exceptionally good bargain—a way “of obtaining the most service at the least price for which it can be procured,” as one historian of the institution noted.
Having lost her parents when about five years of age, [Betsey] was received by an aunt, affectionate but poor, who adopted her as her own. Soon after, disease attacked this aunt and she expected to die. Her principal anxiety now was what would become of this destitute child. In the moment of her distress, she was visited by a friend, who told her that a place was just established under the management of the ladies of Boston for female orphan children, and that they would certainly receive the child on application being made to them.
Overjoyed at this unexpected information, she exclaimed: “Thank God for providing that place for my little girl!”
The asylum had been in existence for just a few months when the Board of Managers was confronted with an unforeseen dilemma. At its fourth meeting, in December 1800, a young mother “in a very distressed situation” appeared before the board. Unable to provide for her little girl, the distraught woman made a tearful plea to the managers, beseeching them to accept her child “in the name of humanity.” Since the asylum had initially been conceived strictly as a place for “those who had neither father nor mother,” this appeal set off a spirited debate among the board members.
In the end, by a vote of eight to six, they agreed to accept the little girl. From that day forth, the Boston Female Asylum was open not only to orphans, but to any suffering child, even if her parents were still alive. Anyone who placed a girl in the institution—whether parent, guardian, or next of kin—was required to sign an official “form of surrender,” relinquishing “all right and claim to her and her services,” and promising “not to interfere with the management of her in any respect whatsoever.”
In the following decades, the asylum continued to expand its operations. By the middle of the century, the society was able to purchase a plot of land in the southerly part of the city and erect a handsome new building. Nearly 100 girls between the ages of three and ten resided there at any given time.
Their breakfasts consisted of hasty pudding, boiled rice with molasses, or milk porridge thickened with flour, depending on the season. Their dinner menus remained the same from week to week: soup on Monday and Wednesday, boiled meat on Tuesday, pork and beans on Thursday, lamb broth on Friday, fish on Saturday, and roast meat and pudding on Sunday.
Their education was restricted to “those useful things suitable to their age, sex, and station.” Since their sex was female and their station distinctly lower class, this meant that (according to official reports of the asylum) they were taught to read, spell, and cipher only “so far as necessary.” Mostly, they were instructed in domestic skills: sewing, knitting, cooking, and housekeeping.
When a girl reached the age of eleven, she was “placed out” with a private family. Only a relative handful were actually adopted. Most became indenturedservants, legally bound—usually for a term of six or seven years—to the families who took them in. Indeed, the Boston Female Asylum served a dual purpose, functioning as both a refuge for indigent children and a source of cheap domestic labor.
In exchange for room, board, and the promise of “kind treatment,” the overburdened mistress of a large New England household could receive her own personal house-servant—a well-trained menial, contractually bound to perform whatever drudgery was demanded of her. It is clear that many Boston-area women regarded this as an exceptionally good bargain—a way “of obtaining the most service at the least price for which it can be procured,” as one historian of the institution noted.
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