discourage, and it would seem that Mrs. Ruggles gave him no opportunity
to push the matter. At length, however, he found his heart's desire in a
Mrs. Gibbs and, judging from his _Diary_, was exceedingly pleased with
his choice.


_III. Liberty to Choose_

It seems clear that the virgin, as well as the widow, was given
considerable liberty in making up her own mind as to the choice of a
life mate, and any general conclusions that colonial women were
practically forced into uncongenial marriages by the command of parents
has no documentary evidence whatever. For instance, Eliza Pinckney wrote
in reply to her father's inquiry about her marriageable possibilities:

"As you propose Mr. L. to me I am sorry I can't have Sentiments
favourable enough to him to take time to think on the Subject, as
your Indulgence to me will ever add weight to the duty that
obliges me to consult that best pleases you, for so much
Generosity on your part claims all my Obedience. But as I know
'tis my Happiness you consult, I must beg the favour of you to
pay my compliments to the old Gentleman for his Generosity and
favorable Sentiments of me, and let him know my thoughts on the
affair in such civil terms as you know much better than I can
dictate; and beg leave to say to you that the riches of Chili and
Peru put together, if he had them could not purchase a sufficient
Esteem for him to make him my husband.

"As to the other Gentleman you mention, Mr. W., you know, sir, I
have so slight a knowledge of him I can form no judgment, and a
case of such consequence requires the nicest distinction of
humours and Sentiments.

"But give me leave to assure you, my dear Sir, that a single life
is my only Choice;--and if it were not as I am yet but eighteen
hope you will put aside the thoughts of my marrying yet these two
or three years at least.

"You are so good as to say you have too great an opinion of my
prudence to think I would entertain an indiscreet passion for any
one, and I hope Heaven will direct me that I may never disappoint
you...."[248]

Even timid, shrinking Betty Sewall, who as a child was so troubled over
her spiritual state, was not forced to accept an uncongenial mate;
although, of course, the old judge thought she must not remain in the
unnatural condition of a spinster. When she was seventeen her first
suitor appeared, with her father's permission, of course; for the Judge
had investigated the young man's financial standing, and had found him
worth at least L600. To prepare the girl for the ordeal, her father took
her into his study and read her the story of the mating of Adam and Eve,
"as a soothing and alluring preparation for the thought of matrimony."
But poor Betty, frightened out of her wits, fled as the hour for the
lover's appearance neared, and hid in a coach in the stable. The Judge
duly records the incident: "Jany Fourth-day, at night Capt. Tuthill
comes to speak with Betty, who hid herself all alone in the coach for
several hours till he was gone, so that we sought at several houses,
then at last came in of her self, and look'd very wild."[249]

Necessarily, this suitor was dismissed, and a Mr. Hirst next appeared,
but Betty could not consent to his courtship, and the father mournfully
notes the belief that this second young man had "taken his final leave."
A few days later, however, the Judge writes her as follows:

"Mr. Hirst waits upon you once more to see if you can bid him
welcome. It ought to be seriously considered, that your drawing
back from him after all that has passed between you, will be to
your Prejudice; and will tend to discourage persons of worth from
making their Court to you. And you had need to consider whether
you are able to bear his final Leaving of you, howsoever it may
seem gratefull to you at present. When persons come toward us, we
are apt to look upon their Undesirable Circumstances mostly; and
therefore to shun them. But when persons retire from us for good
and all, we are in danger of looking only on that which is
desirable in them to our woefull Disquiet.... I do not see but
that the Match is well liked by judicious persons, and such as
are your Cordial Friends, and mine also.

"Yet notwithstanding, if you find in yourself an imovable
incurable Aversion from him, and cannot love, and honour, and
obey him, I shall say no more, nor give you any further trouble
in this matter. It had better be off than on. So praying God to
pardon us, and pity our Undeserving, and to direct and strengthen
and settle you in making a right Judgment, and giving a right
Answer, I take leave, who, am, dear child, your loving
father...."[250]


_IV. The Banns and the Ceremony_

After the formal engagement, when the dowry and contract had been agreed
upon and signed, the publishing of the banns occurred. Probably this
custom was general throughout the colonies; indeed, the Church of
England required it in Virginia and South Carolina; the Catholics
demanded it in Maryland; the Dutch in New York and the Quakers in
Pennsylvania sanctioned it. Sewall mentions the ceremony several times,
and evidently looked upon it as a proper, if not a required, procedure.

And who performed the marriage ceremony in those old days? To-day most
Americans look upon it as an office of the clergyman, although a few
turn to a civil officer in this hour of need; but in the early years of
the Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay Colonies it is highly probable that
only a magistrate was allowed to marry the contracting parties. Those
first American Puritans had a fear of church ceremony, and for some
years conducted both weddings and funerals without the formal services
of a preacher. By Judge Sewall's time, either clergyman or magistrate
might perform the office; but all symptoms of formality or worldly pomp
were frowned upon, and the union was made generally with the utmost
simplicity and quietness. We may turn again to the Judge's Diary for
brief pictures of the equally brief ceremony:

"Tuesday, 1688. Mr. Nath. Newgate Marries Mr. Lynds Daughter
before Mr. Ratcliff, with Church of England Ceremonies."[251]

"Thorsday, Oct. 4th, 1688. About 5 P.M. Mr. Willard (the pastor)
married Mr. Samuel Danforth and Mrs. Hannah Alien."[252]

"Feb. 24, 1717-8. In the evening I married Joseph Marsh.... I
gave them a glass of Canary."

"Apr. 4, 1718.... In the evening I married Chasling Warrick and
Esther Bates...."[253]

It seems that the Judge himself inclined toward the view that a wedding
was essentially a civil, and not an ecclesiastical affair, and he even
went so far as to introduce a rule having certain magistrates chosen for
the duty, but, unluckily, the preachers won the contest and almost took
this particular power away from the civil officers. The Judge refers
thus to the matter: "Nov. 4, 1692. Law passes for Justices and Ministers
Marrying Persons. By order of the Committee, I had drawn up a Bill for
Justices and such others as the Assembly should appoint to marry; but
came new-drawn and thus alter'd from the Deputies. It seems they count
the respect of it too much to be left any longer with the Magistrate.
And Salaries are not spoken of; as if one sort of Men might live on the
Aer...."[254] Apparently up to this date the magistrates had possessed
rather a monopoly on the marriage market, and Sewall was justly worried
over this new turn in affairs. Betty, however, who had finally accepted
Mr. Hirst, was married by a clergyman, as the following entry testifies:
"Oct. 17, 1700.... In the following Evening Mr. Grove Hirst and
Elizabeth Sewall are married by Mr. Cotton Mather."[255]

The nearest that the Puritans of the day seem to have approached
earthly hilarity on such occasions was in the serving of simple
refreshments. Strange to say, the pious Judge almost smacks his lips as
he records the delicacies served at one of the weddings: "Many of the
Council went and wish'd Col. Fitch joy of his daughter Martha's marriage
with Mr. James Allen. Had good Bride-Cake, good Wine, Burgundy and
Canary, good Beer, Oranges, Pears."[256] Again, in recording the
marriage of his daughter Judith, he notes that "we had our Cake and
sack-posset." Still again: "May 8th, 1712. At night, Dr. Increase Mather
married Mr. Sam Gerrish, and Mrs. Sarah Coney; Dr. Cotton Mather pray'd
last.... Had Gloves, Sack-Posset, and Cake...."[257]

Of course, as time went on, the good people of Massachusetts became more
worldly and three quarters of a century after Sewall noted the above,
some weddings had become so noisy that the godly of the old days might
well have considered such affairs as riotous. For example, Judge Pynchon
records on January 2, 1781: "Tuesday, ... A smart firing is heard today.
(Mr. Brooks is married to Miss Hathorne, a daughter of Mr. Estey), and
was as loud, and the rejoicing near as great as on the marriage of Robt.
Peas, celebrated last year; the fiddling, dancing, etc., about equal in
each."[258]


_V. Matrimonial Restrictions_

Necessarily, the laws dealing with wedlock were exceedingly strict in
all the colonies; for there were many reckless immigrants to America,
many of whom had left a bad reputation in the old country and were not
building a better one in the new. It was no uncommon thing for men and
women who were married in England to pose as unmarried in the colonies,
and the charge of bigamy frequently appears in the court records of the
period. Sometimes the magistrates "punished" the man by sending him back
to his wife in England, but there seems to be no record of a similar
form of punishment for a woman who had forgotten her distant spouse.
Strange to say, there are instances of the fining, month by month, of
unmarried couples living together as man and wife--a device still
imitated by some of our city courts in dealing with inmates of
disorderly houses. All in all, the saintly of those old days had good
cause for believing that the devil was continuously seeking entrance
into their domain.

Some of the laws seem unduly severe. Marriage with cousins or other near
relatives was frowned upon, and even the union of persons who were not
considered respectable according to the community standard was unlawful.
Sewall notes his sentiments concerning the marriage of close relatives:

"Dec. 25, 1691.... The marriage of Hana Owen with her Husband's
Brother is declar'd null by the Court of Assistants. She
commanded not to entertain him; enjoin'd to make a Confession at
Braintrey before the Congregation on Lecture day, or Sabbath, pay
Fees of Court, and prison, & to be dismiss'd...."[259]

"May 7, 1696. Col. Shrimpton marries his Son to his Wive's
Sisters daughter, Elisabeth Richardson. All of the Council in
Town were invited to the Wedding, and many others. Only I was not
spoken to. As I was glad not to be there because the lawfullness
of the intermarrying of Cousin-Germans is doubted...."[260]


_VI. Spinsters_

It is a source of astonishment to a modern reader to find at what a
youthful age girls of colonial days became brides. Large numbers of
women were wedded at sixteen, and if a girl remained home until her
eighteenth birthday the Puritan parents began to lose hope. There were
comparatively few unmarried people, and it would seem that bachelors and
spinsters were viewed with some suspicion. The fate of an old maid was
indeed a sad one; for she must spend her days in the home of her parents
or of her brothers, or eke out her board by keeping a dame's school, and
if she did not present a mournful countenance the greater part of the
populace was rather astonished. Note, for instance, the tone of surprise
in this comment on an eighteenth century spinster of Boston:

"It is true, an _old_ (or superannuated) maid in Boston is
thought such a curse, as nothing can exceed it (and looked on as
a _dismal spectacle_); yet she, by her good nature, gravity, and
strict virtue, convinces all (so much as the fleering Beaus) that
it is not her necessity, but her choice, that keeps her a Virgin.
She is now about thirty years (the age which they call a
_Thornback_), yet she never disguises herself, and talks as
little as she thinks of Love. She never reads any Plays or
Romances, goes to no Balls, or Dancing-match, as they do who go
(to such Fairs) in order to meet with Chapmen. Her looks, her
speech, her whole behaviour, are so very chaste, that but one at
Governor's Island, where we went to be merry at roasting a hog,
going to kiss her, I thought she would have blushed to death.

"Our _Damsel_ knowing this, her conversation is generally amongst
the Women ... so that I found it no easy matter to enjoy her
company, for some of her time (save what was taken up in
Needle-work and learning French, etc.) was spent in Religious
Worship. She knew Time was a dressing-room for Eternity, and
therefore reserves most of her hours for better uses than those
of the Comb, the Toilet, and the Glass."[261]


_VII. Separation and Divorce_

It may be a matter of surprise to the ultra-modern that there were not,
in those days, more old maids or women who hesitated long before
entering into matrimony, for marriage was almost invariably for life.
There were of course, some separations, and now and then a divorce, but
since unfaithfulness was practically the only reason that a court would
consider, there was but little opportunity for the exercise of this
modern legal form of freedom. Moreover, the magistrates ruled that the
guilty person might not remarry; but although they strove zealously in
some sections to enforce this rule, the rougher members of society
easily evaded it by moving into another colony. Sewall makes mention of
applications for divorce; but when such a catastrophe seemed imminent in
his own family he opposed it strongly.

Let us examine this case, not for the purpose of impudently staring at
the family skeleton in the good old Judge's closet, but that we may see
that wedlock was not always "one glad, sweet song," even in Puritan
days. His eldest son Samuel had such serious difficulties with the woman
whom he married that at length the couple separated and lived apart for
several years. The pious judge worried and fretted over the scandal for
a long while; but, of course, such affairs will happen in even the best
of families. The record of the marriage runs as follows: "September 15,
1702. Mr. Nehemiah Walter marries Mr. Sam. Sewall and Mrs. Rebekah
Dudley." Evidently Mrs. Rebekah Dudley Sewall was not so meek as the
average Puritan wife is generally pictured; for on February 13, 1712,
the judge noted: "When my daughter alone, I ask'd her what might be the
cause of my Son's Indisposition, are you so kindly affectioned one
towards one another as you should be? She answer'd I do my Duty. I said
no more...."[262a]

Six days later the troubled father wrote: "Lecture-day, son S. Goes to
Meeting, speaks to Mr. Walter. I also speak to him to dine. He could
not; but said he would call before he went home. When he came he
discours'd largly with my son.... Friends talk to them both, and so come
together again."[262a]

Two days later: "Daughter Sewall calls and gives us a visit; I went out
to carry my Letters to Savil's.... While I was absent, My Wife and
Daughter Sewall had very sharp discourse; She wholly justified herself,
and said, if it were not for her, no Maid could be able to dwell at
their house. At last Daughter Sewall burst out with Tears, and call'd
for the Calash. My wife relented also, and said she did not design to
grieve her."[263]

Evidently affairs went from bad to worse, even to the point where Sam
ate his meals alone and probably prepared them too; for the Judge at
length notes in his _Diary_: "I goe to Brooklin, meet my daughter Sewall
going to Roxbury with Hanah.... Sam and I dined alone. Daughter return'd
before I came away. I propounded to her that Mr. Walter (the pastor)
might be desired to come to them and pray with them. She seemed not to
like the notion, said she knew not wherefore she should be call'd before
a Minister.... I urg'd him as the fittest Moderator; the Govr. or I
might be thought partial. She pleaded her performance of Duty, and how
much she had born...."[264]

It is apparent that the spirit of independence, if not of stubbornness,
was strong in Mrs. Samuel, Jr. At length, what seems to have been the
true motive, jealousy on the part of the husband, appears in the record
by the father, and from all the evidence Samuel might well be jealous,
as future events will show. To return to the _Diary_: "Sam and his Wife
dine here, go home together in the Calash. William Ilsly rode and pass'd
by them. My son warn'd him not to lodge at his house; Daughter said she
had as much to doe with the house as he. Ilsly lodg'd there. Sam grew so
ill on Satterday, that instead of going to Roxbury he was fain between
Meetings to take his Horse, and come hither; to the surprise of his
Mother who was at home...."[265] A few days later: "Sam is something
better; yet full of pain; He told me with Tears that these sorrows
would bring him to his Grave...."[266]

It appears that the daughter-in-law was, for the most part, silent but
vigilant; for about five weeks after the above entry Judge Sewall
records: "My Son Joseph and I visited my Son at Brooklin, sat with my
Daughter in the chamber some considerable time, Drank Cider, eat Apples.
Daughter said nothing to us of her Grievances, nor we to her...."[267]
The lady, however, while she might control her tongue, could not control
her pen, and just when harmony was on the point of being restored, a
letter from her gave the affair a most serious backset. "Son Sewall
intended to go home on the Horse Tom brought, sent some of his Linen by
him; but when I came to read his wive's letter to me, his Mother was
vehemently against his going: and I was for considering.... Visited Mr.
Walter, staid long with him, read my daughters Letters to her Husband
and me; yet he still advis'd to his going home.... My wife can't yet
agree to my Son's going home...."[268]

Sam seems to have remained at his father's home. The matter was taken up
by the parents, apparently in the hope that they with their greater
wisdom might be able to bring about an understanding. "Went a foot to
Roxbury. Govr. Dudley was gon to his Mill. Staid till he came home. I
acquainted him what my Business was; He and Madam Dudley both reckon'd
up the Offenses of my Son; and He the Virtues of his Daughter. And
alone, mention'd to me the hainous faults of my wife, who the very first
word ask'd my daughter why she married my Son except she lov'd him? I
saw no possibility of my Son's return; and therefore asked that he would
make some Proposals, and so left it...."[269]

Thus the months lengthened into years, and still the couple were apart.
Meanwhile the scandal was increased by the birth of a child to the wife.
Samuel had left her on January 22, 1714, and did not return to her until
March 3, 1718; apparently the child was born during the summer of 1717.
The Judge, in sore straits, records on August 29, 1717; "Went,
according, after a little waiting on some Probat business to Govr.
Dudley. I said my Son had all along insisted that Caution should be
given, that the infant lately born should not be chargeable to his
Estate. Govr. Dudley no ways came into it; but said 'twas best as 'twas
no body knew whose 'twas [word illegible,] to bring it up."[270]

Whether or not the disgrace shortened the life of Mother Sewall we shall
never know; but the fact is recorded that she died on October 23, 1717.
There follows a rather lengthy silence concerning Sam's affairs, and at
length on February 24, 1718, we note the following good news: "My Son
Sam Sewall and his Wife Sign and Seal the Writings in order to my Son's
going home. Govr. Dudley and I Witnesses, Mr. Sam Lynde took, the
Acknowledgment. I drank to my Daughter in a Glass of Canary. Govr.
Dudley took me into the Old Hall and gave me L100 in Three-pound Bills
of Credit, new ones, for my Son, told me on Monday, he would perform all
that he had promised to Mr. Walter. Sam agreed to go home next Monday,
his wife sending the Horse for him. Joseph pray'd with his Bror and me.
Note. This was my Wedding Day. The Lord succeed and turn to good what we
have been doing...."[271]

Is it not evident that at least in some instances women in colonial days
were not the meek and sweetly humble creatures so often described in
history, fiction, and verse?


_VIII. Marriage in Pennsylvania_

If there was any approach toward laxness in the marriage laws of the
colonies, it may have been in Pennsylvania. Ben Franklin confesses very
frankly that his wife's former husband had deserted her, and that no
divorce had been obtained. There was a decidedly indefinite rumor that
the former spouse had died, and Ben considered this sufficient. The case
was even more complicated, but perhaps Franklin thought that one ill
cured another. As he states in his _Autobiography_:

"Our mutual affection was revived, but there were no great objections to
our union. The match was indeed looked upon as invalid, a preceding wife
being said to be living in England; but this could not easily be prov'd,
because of the distance, and tho' there was a report of his death, it
was not certain. Then, tho' it should be true, he had left many debts,
which his successor might be call'd upon to pay. We ventured, however,
over all these difficulties, and I took her to wife Sept. 1st,
1730."[272]

Among the Quakers the marriage ceremony consisted simply of the
statement of a mutual pledge by the contracting parties in the presence
of the congregation, and, this being done, all went quietly about their
business without ado or merry-making. The pledge recited by the first
husband of Dolly Madison was doubtless a typical one among the Friends
of Pennsylvania: "'I, John Todd, do take thee, Dorothea Payne, to be my
wedded wife, and promise, through divine assistance, to be unto thee a
loving husband, until separated by death.' The bride in fainter tones
echoed the vow, and then the certificate of marriage was read, and the
register signed by a number of witnesses...."[273]

Doubtless the courtship among these early Quakers was brief and calm,
but among the Moravians of the same colony it was so brief as to amount
to none at all. Hear Franklin's description of the manner of choosing a
wife in this curious sect: "I inquir'd concerning the Moravian
marriages, whether the report was true that they were by lot. I was told
that lots were us'd only in particular cases; that generally, when a
young man found himself dispos'd to marry, he inform'd the elders of his
class, who consulted the elder ladies that govern'd the young women. As
these elders of the different sexes were well acquainted with the temper
and dipositions of the respective pupils, they could best judge what
matches were suitable, and their judgments were generally acquiesc'd in;
but, if, for example, it should happen that two or three young women
were found to be equally proper for the young man, the lot was then
recurred to. I objected, if the matches are not made by the mutual
choice of the parties, some of them may chance to be very unhappy. 'And
so they may,' answer'd my informer, 'if you let the parties chuse for
themselves.'"[274]

We have seen that the Dutch of New York did let them "chuse for
themselves," even while they were yet children. The forming of the
children into companies, and the custom of marrying within a particular
company seemingly was an excellent plan; for it appears that as the
years passed the children grew toward each other; they learned each
other's likes and dislikes; they had become true helpmates long before
the wedding. As Mrs. Grant observes: "Love, undiminished by any rival
passion, and cherished by innocence and candor, was here fixed by the
power of early habit, and strengthened by similarity of education,
tastes, and attachments. Inconstancy, or even indifference among married
couples, was unheard of, even where there happened to be a considerable
disparity in point of intellect. The extreme affection they bore to
their mutual offspring was a bond that forever endeared them to each
other. Marriage in this colony was always early, very often happy. When
a man had a son, there was nothing to be expected with a daughter, but a
well brought-up female slave, and the furniture of the best
bedchamber...."[275]


_IX. Marriage in the South_

In colonial Virginia and South Carolina weddings were seldom, if ever,
performed by a magistrate; the public sentiment created by the Church of
England demanded the offices of a clergyman. Far more was made of a
wedding in these Southern colonies than in New England, and after the
return from the church, the guests often made the great mansion shake
with their merry-making. No aristocratic marriage would have been
complete without dancing and hearty refreshments, and many a new match
was made in celebrating a present one.

The old story of how the earlier settlers purchased their wives with
from one hundred twenty to one hundred fifty pounds of tobacco per
woman--a pound of sotweed for a pound of flesh,--is too well known to
need repetition here; suffice to say it did not become a custom. Nor is
there any reason to believe that marriages thus brought about were any
less happy than those resulting from prolonged courtships. These girls
were strong, healthy, moral women from crowded England, and they came
prepared to do their share toward making domestic life a success.
American books of history have said much about the so-called indented
women who promised for their ship fare from England to serve a certain
number of months or years on the Virginia plantations; but the early
records of the colonies really offer rather scant information. This was
but natural; for such women had but little in common with the ladies of
the aristocratic circle, and there was no apparent reason for writing
extensively about them. But it should not be thought that they were
always rough, uncouth, enslaved creatures. The great majority were
decent women of the English rural class, able and willing to do hard
work, but unable to find it in England. Many of them, after serving
their time, married into respectable families, and in some instances
reared children who became men and women of considerable note. There can
be little doubt that while paying for their ship-fare they labored hard,
and sometimes were forced to mingle with the negroes and the lowest
class of white men in heavy toil. John Hammond, a Marylander, who had
great admiration for his adopted land, tried to ignore this point, but
the evidence is rather against him. Says he in his _Leah and Rachel_ of
1656:

"The Women are not (as reported) put into the ground to worke, but
occupie such domestique imployments and housewifery as in England, that
is dressing victuals, righting up the house, milking, imployed about
dayries, washing, sowing, etc., and both men and women have times of
recreations, as much or more than in any part of the world besides, yet
some wenches that are nasty, beastly and not fit to be so imployed are
put into the ground, for reason tells us, they must not at charge be
transported, and then maintained for nothing."

Of course among the lower rural classes not only of the South, but of
the Middle Colonies, a wedding was an occasion for much coarse joking,
horse-play, and rough hilarity, such as bride-stealing, carousing, and
hideous serenades with pans, kettles, and skillet lids. Especially was
this the case among the farming class of Connecticut, where the marriage
festivities frequently closed with damages both to person and to
property.


_X. Romance in Marriage_

Perhaps to the modern woman the colonial marriage, with its fixed rules
of courtship, the permission to court, the signed contract and the
dowry, seems decidedly commonplace and unromantic; but, after all, this
is not a true conclusion. The colonists loved as ardently as ever men
and women have, and they found as much joy, and doubtless of as lasting
a kind, in the union, as we moderns find. Many bits of proof might be
cited. Hear, for instance, how Benedict Arnold proposed to his beloved
Peggy:

"Dear Madam: Twenty times have I taken up my pen to write to you,
and as often has my trembling hand refused to obey the dictates
of my heart--a heart which, though calm and serene amidst the
clashing of arms and all the din and horrors of war, trembles
with diffidence and the fear of giving offence when it attempts
to address you on a subject so important to his happiness. Dear
Madam, your charms have lighted up a flame in my bosom which can
never be extinguished; your heavenly image is too deeply
impressed ever to be effaced....

"On you alone my happiness depends, and will you doom me to
languish in despair? Shall I expect no return to the most
sincere, ardent, and disinterested passion? Do you feel no pity
in your gentle bosom for the man who would die to make you
happy?...

"Consider before you doom me to misery, which I have not deserved
but by loving you too extravgantly. Consult your own happiness,
and if incompatible, forget there is so unhappy a wretch; for may
I perish if I would give you one moment's inquietude to purchase
the greatest possible felicity to myself. Whatever my fate is, my
most ardent wish is for your happiness, and my latest breath will
be to implore the blessing of heaven on the idol and only wish of
my soul...."

And Alexander Hamilton wrote this of his "Betty": "I suspect ... that if
others knew the charm of my sweetheart as I do, I would have a great
number of competitors. I wish I could give you an idea of her. You have
no conception of how sweet a girl she is. It is only in my heart that
her image is truly drawn. She has a lovely form, and still more lovely
mind. She is all Goodness, the gentlest, the dearest, the tenderest of
her sex--Ah, Betsey, How I love her...."[276]

And let those who doubt that there was romance in the wooing of the old
days read the story of Agnes Surrage, the humble kitchen maid, who,
while scrubbing the tavern floor, attracted the attention of handsome
Harry Frankland, custom officer of Boston, scion of a noble English
family. With a suspiciously sudden interest in her, he obtained
permission from her parents to have her educated, and for a number of
years she was given the best training and culture that money could
purchase. Then, when she was twenty-four, Frankland wished to marry her;
but his proud family would not consent, and even threatened to
disinherit him. The couple, in despair, defied all conventionalities,
and Frankland took her to live with him at his Boston residence.
Conservative Boston was properly scandalized--so much so that the lovers
retired to a beautiful country home near the city, where for some time
they lived in what the New Englanders considered ungodly happiness. Then
the couple visited England, hoping that the elder Franklands would
forgive, but the family snubbed the beautiful American, and made life so
unpleasant for her that young Frankland took her to Madrid. Finally at
Lisbon the crisis came; for in the terrors of the famous earthquake he
was injured and separated from her, and in his misery he vowed that when
he found her, he would marry her in spite of all. This he did, and upon
their return to Boston they were received as kindly as before they had
been scornfully rejected.

Mrs. Frankland became a prominent member of society, was even presented
at Court, and for some years was looked upon as one of the most lovable
women residing in London. When in 1768 her husband died, she returned to
America, and made her home at Boston, where in Revolutionary days she
suffered so greatly through her Tory inclinations that she fled once
more to England. What more pleasing romance could one want? It has all
the essentials of the old-fashioned novel of love and adventure.


_XI. Feminine Independence_

Certainly in the above instance we have once more an independence on the
part of colonial woman certainly not emphasized in the books on early
American history. As Humphreys says in _Catherine Schuyler_: "The
independence of the modern girl seems pale and ineffectual beside that
of the daughters of the Revolution." There is, for instance, the saucy
woman told of in Garden's _Anecdotes of the Revolutionary War_: "Mrs.
Daniel Hall, having obtained permission to pay a visit to her mother on
John's Island, was on the point of embarking, when an officer, stepping
forward, in the most authoritative manner, demanded the key of her
trunk. 'What do you expect to find there?' said the lady. 'I seek for
treason,' was the reply. 'You may save yourself the trouble of
searching, then,' said Mrs. Hall; 'for you can find a plenty of it at my
tongue's end.'"

The daughters of General Schuyler certainly showed independence; for of
the four, only one, Elisabeth, wife of Hamilton, was married with the
father's consent, and in his home. Shortly after the battle of Saratoga
the old warrior announced the marriage of his eldest daughter away from
home, and showed his chagrin in the following expression: "Carter and my
eldest daughter ran off and were married on the 23rd of July.
Unacquainted with his family connections and situation in life, the
matter was exceedingly disagreeable, and I signified it to them." Six
years later, the charming Peggy eloped, when there was no reason for it,
with Steven Rensselaer, a man who afterwards became a powerful leader in
New York commercial and political movements. The third escapade, that of
Cornelia, was still more romantic; for, having attended the wedding of
Eliza Morton in New Jersey, she met the bride's brother and promptly
fell in love with him. Her father as promptly refused to sanction the
match, and demanded that the girl have nothing to do with the young man.
One evening not long afterwards, as Humphreys describes it, two muffled
figures appeared under Miss Cornelia's window. At a low whistle, the
window softly opened, and a rope was thrown up. Attached to the rope was
a rope ladder, which, making fast, like a veritable heroine of romance
the bride descended. They were driven to the river, where a boat was
waiting to take them across. On the other side was the coach-and-pair.
They were then driven thirty miles across country to Stockbridge, where
an old friend of the Morton family lived. The affair had gone too far.
The Judge sent for a neighboring minister, and the runaways were duly
married. So flagrant a breach of the paternal authority was not to be
hastily forgiven.... As in the case of the other runaways, the youthful
Mortons disappointed expectation, by becoming important householders and
taking a prominent place in the social life of New York, where
Washington Morton achieved some distinction at the bar.[277]

It is evident that in affairs of love, if not in numerous other phases
of life, colonial women had much liberty and if the liberty were denied
them, took affairs into their own hands, and generally attained their
heart's desire.


_XII. Matrimonial Advice_

Through the letters of the day many hints have come down to us of what
colonial men and women deemed important in matters of love and marriage.
Thus, we find Washington writing Nelly Custis, warning her to beware of
how she played with the human heart--especially her own. Women wrote
many similar warnings for the benefit of their friends or even for the
benefit of themselves. Jane Turrell early in the eighteenth century went
so far as to write down a set of rules governing her own conduct in such
affairs, and some of these have come down to us through her husband's
_Memoir_ of her:

"I would admit the addresses of no person who is not descended of
pious and credible parents."

"Who has not the character of a strict moralist, sober,
temperate, just and honest."

"Diligent in his business, and prudent in matters. Of a sweet and
agreeable temper; for if he be owner of all the former good
qualifications, and fails here, my life will be still
uncomfortable."

Whether the first of these rules would have amounted to anything if she
had suddenly been attracted by a man of whose ancestry she knew nothing,
is doubtful; but the catalog of regulations shows at least that the
girls of colonial days did some thinking for themselves on the subject
of matrimony, and did not leave the matter to their elders to settle.


_XIII. Matrimonial Irregularities_

There is one rather unpleasant phase of the marriage question of
colonial days that we may not in justice omit, and that is the irregular
marriage or union and the punishment for it and for the violation of the
marriage vow. No small amount of testimony from diaries and records has
come down to us to prove that such irregularities existed throughout all
the colonies. Indeed, the evidence indicates that this form of crime was
a constant source of irritation to both magistrates and clergy.

The penalty for adultery in early Massachusetts was whipping at the
cart's tail, branding, banishment, or even death. It is a common
impression that the larger number of colonists were God-fearing people
who led upright, blameless lives, and this impression is correct; few
nations have ever had so high a percentage of men of lofty ideals. It is
natural, therefore, that such people should be most severe in dealing
with those who dared to lower the high morality of the new commonwealths
dedicated to righteousness. But even the Puritans and Cavaliers were
merely human, and crime _would_ enter in spite of all efforts to the
contrary. Bold adventurers, disreputable spirits, men and women with
little respect for the laws of man or of God, crept into their midst;
many of the immigrants to the Middle and Southern Colonies were
refugees from the streets and prisons of London; some of the indented
servants had but crude notions of morality; sometimes, indeed, the Old
Adam, suppressed for generations, broke out in even the most respectable
of godly families.

Both Sewall and Winthrop have left records of grave offences and
transgressions against social decency. About 1632 a law was passed in
Massachusetts punishing adultery with death, and Winthrop notes that at
the "court of assistants such an act was adopted though it could not at
first be enforced."[278] In 1643 he records:

"At this court of assistants one James Britton ... and Mary Latham, a
proper young woman about 18 years of age ... were condemned to die for
adultery, upon a law formerly made and published in print...."[279]

A year or two before this he records: "Another case fell out about Mr.
Maverick of Nottles Island, who had been formerly fined L100 for giving
entertainment to Mr. Owen and one Hale's wife who had escaped out of
prison, where they had been put for notorious suspicion of adultery."
The editor adds, "Sarah Hales, the wife of William Hales, was censured
for her miscarriage to be carried to the gallows with a rope about her
neck, and to sit an hour upon the ladder; the rope's end flung over the
gallows, and after to be banished."[280]

Some women in Massachusetts actually paid the penalty of death. Then,
too, as late as Sewall's day we find mention of severe laws dealing with
inter-marriage of relatives: "June 14, 1695: The Bill against Incest
was passed with the Deputies, four and twenty Nos, and seven and twenty
Yeas. The Ministers gave in their Arguments yesterday, else it had
hardly gon, because several have married their wives sisters, and the
Deputies thought it hard to part them. 'Twas concluded on the other
hand, that not to part them, were to make the Law abortive, by begetting
in people a conceipt that such Marriages were not against the Law of
God."[281]

The use of the death penalty for adultery seems, however, to have ceased
before the days of Sewall's _Diary_: for, though he often mentions the
crime, he makes no mention of such a punishment. The custom of execution
for far less heinous offences was prevalent in the seventeenth century,
as any reader of Defoe and other writers of his day is well aware, and
certainly the American colonists cannot be blamed for exercising the
severest laws against offenders of so serious a nature against society.
The execution of a woman was no unusual act anywhere in the world during
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and the Americans did not
hesitate to give the extreme penalty to female criminals. Sewall rather