by precept and example to instruct in all Scholasticall morall and
Theologicall discipline the children so far as they be capable, all
A. B. C. Darians excepted." He was paid in corn, barley or peas, the
value of £25 per annum, and each child, through his parents or
guardians, supplied half a cord of wood for the schoolhouse fire. If
this load of wood were not promptly furnished the child suffered, for
the master did not allow him the benefit of the fire; that is, to go
near enough the fireplace to feel the warmth.
The children of wise parents like Cotton Mather, were also taught
"opificial and beneficial sciences," such as the mystery of medicine--a
mystery indeed in colonial times.
Puritan schoolmasters believed, as did Puritan parents, that sparing the
rod spoiled the child, and great latitude was given in punishment; the
rod and ferule were fiercely and frequently plied "with lamming and with
whipping, and such benefits of nature" as in English schools of the same
date. When young men were publicly whipped in colleges, children were
sure to be well trained in smaller schools. Every gradation of
chastisement was known and every instrument from
"A beesome of byrche for babes verye fit
To a long lastinge lybbet for lubbers as meete,"
from the "thimell-pie" of the dame's school--a smart tapping on the head
with a heavy thimble--to belaboring with a heavy walnut stick or oaken
ruler. Master Lovell, that tigerish Boston teacher, whipped the culprit
with birch rods and forced another scholar to hold the sufferer on his
back. Other schoolmasters whipped on the soles of the feet, and one
teacher roared out, "Oh the Caitiffs! it is good for them." Not only
were children whipped, but many ingenious instruments of torture were
invented. One instructor made his scholars sit on a "bark seat turned
upside down with his thumb on the knot of a floor." Another master of
the inquisition invented a unipod--a stool with one leg--sometimes
placed in the middle of the seat, sometimes on the edge, on which the
unfortunate scholar tiresomely balanced. Others sent out the suffering
pupil to cut a branch of a tree, and, making a split in the large end of
the branch, sprung it on the culprit's nose, and he stood painfully
pinched, an object of ridicule with his spreading branch of leaves. One
cruel master invented an instrument of torture which he called a
flapper. It was a heavy piece of leather six inches in diameter with a
hole in the middle, and was fastened at the edge to a pliable handle.
The blistering pain inflicted by this brutal instrument can well be
imagined. At another school, whipping of unlucky wights was done "upon a
peaked block with a tattling stick;" and this expression of colonial
severity seems to take on additional force and cruelty in our minds that
we do not at all know what a tattling stick was, nor understand what was
meant by a peaked block.
I often fancy I should have enjoyed living in the good old times, but I
am glad I never was a child in colonial New England--to have been
baptized in ice water, fed on brown bread and warm beer, to have had to
learn the Assembly's Catechism and "explain all the Quaestions with
conferring Texts," to have been constantly threatened with fear of death
and terror of God, to have been forced to commit Wigglesworth's "Day of
Doom" to memory, and, after all, to have been whipped with a tattling
stick.
II
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE CUSTOMS
In the early days of the New England colonies no more embarrassing or
hampering condition, no greater temporal ill could befall any adult
Puritan than to be unmarried. What could he do, how could he live in
that new land without a wife? There were no housekeepers--and he would
scarcely have been allowed to have one if there were. What could a woman
do in that new settlement among unbroken forests, uncultivated lands,
without a husband? The colonists married early, and they married often.
Widowers and widows hastened to join their fortunes and sorrows. The
father and mother of Governor Winslow had been widow and widower seven
and twelve weeks, respectively, when they joined their families and
themselves in mutual benefit, if not in mutual love. At a later day the
impatient Governor of New Hampshire married a lady but ten days widowed.
Bachelors were rare indeed, and were regarded askance and with intense
disfavor by the entire community, were almost in the position of
suspected criminals. They were seldom permitted to live alone, or even
to choose their residence, but had to find a domicile wherever and with
whomsoever the Court assigned. In Hartford lone-men, as Shakespeare
called them, had to pay twenty shillings a week to the town for the
selfish luxury of solitary living. No colonial law seems to me more
arbitrary or more comic than this order issued in the town of Eastham,
Mass., in 1695, namely:
"Every unmarried man in the township shall kill six blackbirds or
three crows while he remains single; as a penalty for not doing it,
shall not be married until he obey this order."
Bachelors were under the special spying and tattling supervision of the
constable, the watchman, and the tithingman, who, like Pliable in
Pilgrim's Progress, sat sneaking among his neighbors and reported their
"scirscumstances and conuersation." In those days a man gained instead
of losing his freedom by marrying. "Incurridgement" to wedlock was given
bachelors in many towns by the assignment to them upon marriage of
home-lots to build upon. In Medfield there was a so-called Bachelor's
Row, which had been thus assigned. In the early days of Salem "maid
lotts" were also granted; but Endicott wrote in the town records that it
was best to abandon the custom and thus "avoid all presedents & evil
events of granting lotts vnto single maidens not disposed of." This line
he crossed out and wrote instead, "for avoiding of absurdities." He
kindly, but rather disappointingly, gave one maid a bushel of corn when
she came to ask for a house and lot, and told her it would be a "bad
president" for her to keep house alone. A maid had, indeed, a hard time
to live in colonial days, did she persevere in her singular choice of
remaining single. Perhaps the colonists "proverb'd with the grandsire
phrase," that women dying maids lead apes in hell. Maidens "withering on
the virgin thorn," in single blessedness, were hard to find. One
Mistress Poole lived unmarried to great old age, and helped to found the
town of Taunton under most discouraging rebuffs; and in the Plymouth
church record of March 19, 1667, is a record of a death which reads
thus:--
"Mary Carpenter sister of Mrs. Alice Bradford wife of Governor
Bradford being newly entered into the 91st year of her age. She was
a godly old maid never married."
The state of old maidism was reached at a very early age in those early
days; Higginson wrote of an "antient maid" of twenty-five years. John
Dunton in his "Life and Errors" wrote eulogistically of one such ideal
"Virgin" who attracted his special attention.
"It is true an _old_ (or superanuated) 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) to meet with
Chapmen. Her looks, her speech, her whole behavior are so very
chaste, that but once (at Govenor'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 (as there is least danger from that sex) so that I found
it no easy matter to enjoy her company, for most of her time (save
what was taken up in needle work and learning French &c.) 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.
"And as I am sure this is most agreeable to the Virgin modesty,
which should make Marriage an act rather of their obedience than
their choice. And they that think their Friends too slowpaced in
the matter give certain proof that lust is their sole motive. But
as the Damsel I have been describing would neither anticipate nor
contradict the will of her Parents, so do I assure you she is
against Forcing her own, by marrying where she cannot love; and
that is the reason she is still a Virgin."
Hence it may be seen that though there was not in Boston the "glorious
phalanx of old maids" of Theodore Parker's description, yet the Boston
old maid was lovely even in colonial days, though she did bear the
odious name of thornback.
An English traveller, Josselyn, gives a glimpse of Boston love-making in
the year 1663.
"On the South there is a small but pleasant Common, where the
Gallants, a little before sunset, walk with their Marmalet-Madams
till the nine o'clock bell rings them home to their respective
habitations."
This simple and quaint picture of youthful love in the soft summer
twilight, at that ever beautiful trysting-place, gives an unwonted touch
of sentiment to the austere daily life of colonial New England. The
omnipotent Puritan law-giver, who meddled and interfered in every
detail, small and great, of the public and private life of the citizen,
could not leave untouched, in fancy free, these soberly promenading
Puritan sweethearts. A Boston gallant must choose well his
marmalet-madam, must proceed cautiously in his love-making in the
gloaming, obtaining first the formal permission of parents or guardians
ere he take any step in courtship. Fines, imprisonment, or the
whipping-post awaited him, did he "inveigle the affections of any maide
or maide servant" by making love to her without proper authority.
Numberless examples might be given to prove that this law was no dead
letter. In 1647, in Stratford, Will Colefoxe was fined £5 for "laboring
to invegle the affection of Write his daughter." In 1672 Jonathan
Coventry, of Plymouth town, was indicted for "making a motion of
marriage" to Katharine Dudley without obtaining formal consent. The
sensible reason for these courtship regulations was "to prevent young
folk from intangling themselves by rash and inconsiderate contracts of
maridge." The Governor of Plymouth colony, Thomas Prence, did not
hesitate to drag his daughter's love affairs before the public, in 1660,
by prosecuting Arthur Howland for "disorderly and unrighteously
endeavouring to gain the affections of Mistress Elizabeth Prence." The
unrighteous lover was fined £5. Seven years later, patient Arthur, who
would not "refrain and desist," was again fined the same amount; but
love prevailed over law, and he triumphantly married his fair Elizabeth
a few months later. The marriage of a daughter with an unwelcome swain
was also often prohibited by will, "not to suffer her to be circumvented
and cast away upon a swaggering gentleman."
On the other hand, an engagement of marriage once having been permitted,
the father could not recklessly or unreasonably interfere to break off
the contract. Many court records prove that colonial lovers promptly
resented by legal action any attempt of parents to bring to an end a
sanctioned love affair. Richard Taylor so sued, and for such cause, Ruth
Whieldon's father in Plymouth in 1661; while another ungallant swain is
said to have sued the maid's father for the loss of time spent in
courting. Breach of promise cases were brought against women by
disappointed men who had been "shabbed" (as jilting was called in some
parts of New England), as well as by deserted women against men.
But sly Puritan maids found a way to circumvent and outwit Puritan law
makers, and to prevent their unsanctioned lovers from being punished,
too. Hear the craft of Sarah Tuttle. On May day in New Haven, in 1660,
she went to the house of a neighbor, Dame Murline, to get some thread.
Some very loud jokes were exchanged between Sarah and her friends Maria
and Susan Murline--so loud, in fact, that Dame Murline testified in
court that it "much distressed her and put her in a sore strait." In the
midst of all this doubtful fun Jacob Murline entered, and seizing
Sarah's gloves, demanded the centuries old forfeit of a kiss.
"Wherupon," writes the scandalized Puritan chronicler, "they sat down
together; his arm being about her; and her arm upon his shoulder or
about his neck; and hee kissed her, and shee kissed him, or they kissed
one another, continuing in this posture about half an hour, as Maria and
Susan testified." Goodman Tuttle, who was a man of dignity and
importance, angrily brought suit against Jacob for inveigling his
daughter's affections; "but Sarah being asked in court if Jacob
inveagled her, said No." This of course prevented any rendering of
judgment against the unauthorized kissing by Jacob, and he escaped the
severe punishment of his offence. But the outraged and baffled court
fined Sarah, and gave her a severe lecture, calling her with justice a
"Bould Virgin." She at the end, demurely and piously answered that "She
hoped God would help her to carry it Better for time to come." And
doubtless she did carry it better; for at the end of two years, this
bold virgin's fine for unruly behavior being still unpaid, half of it
was remitted.
Of the etiquette, the pleasures, the exigencies of colonial "courtship
in high life," let one of the actors speak for himself through the pages
of his diary. Judge Sewall's first wife was Hannah Hull, the only
daughter of Captain Hull of Pine Tree Shilling fame. She received as her
dowry her weight in silver shillings. Of her wooing we know naught save
the charming imaginary story told us by Hawthorne. The Judge's only
record is this:
"Mrs. Hannah Hull saw me when I took my Degree and set her
affection on me though I knew nothing of it till after our
Marriage."
She lived with him forty-three years, bore him seven sons and seven
daughters, and died on the 19th day of October, 1717.
Of course, though the Judge was sixty-six years old, he would marry
again. Like a true Puritan he despised an unmarried life, and on the 6th
day of February he made this naive entry in his diary: "Wandering in my
mind whether to live a Married or a Single Life." Ere that date he had
begun to take notice. He had called more than once on Widow Ruggles, and
had had Widow Gill to dine with him; had looked critically at Widow
Emery, and noted that Widow Tilley was absent from meeting; and he had
gazed admiringly at Widow Winthrop in "her sley," and he had visited
and counseled and consoled her ere his wife had been two months dead,
and had given her a few suitable tokens of his awakening affection such
as "Smoking Flax Inflamed," "The Jewish Children of Berlin," and "My
Small Vial of Tears;" so he had "wandered" in the flesh as well as in
the mind.
Such an array of widows! Boston fairly blossomed with widows, the widows
of all the "true New England men" whose wills Sewall had drawn up, whose
dying bedsides he had blessed and harassed with his prayers, whose
bodies he had borne to the grave, whose funeral gloves and scarves and
rings he had received and apprized, and whose estates he had settled.
Over this sombre flower-bed of black garbed widows, these hardy
perennials, did this aged Puritan butterfly amorously hover, loth to
settle, tasting each solemn sweet, calculating the richness of the soil
in which each was planted, gauging the golden promise of fruit, and
perhaps longing for the whole garden of full-blown blossoms. "Antient
maides" were held in little esteem by him; not one thornback is on his
list.
Not only did he look and wander, but all his friends and neighbors arose
and began to suggest and search for a suitable wife for him, with as
officious alacrity as if he needed help, which he certainly did not. In
March Madam Henchman strongly recommended to him "Madam Winthrop, the
Major General's widow." This recommendation was very sweet to the
widower, who had turned his eyes with such special approval on this
special widow, and further and warm encouragement came quickly.
"Deacon Marion comes to me, sits with me a great while in the
evening; after a great deal of Discourse about his Courtship He
told me the Olivers said they wish'd I would court their Aunt. I
said little, but said 'twas not five Moneths since I buried my dear
Wife. Had said before 'twas hard to know whether to marry again or
no or whom to marry."
The Olivers' aunt was Madam Winthrop. It would seem somewhat
presumptuous and officious for nieces and nephews to suggest courtship,
when there were grown up Winthrop children who might dislike the
marriage, but in those days everyone meddled in love affairs; to quote
Pope: "Marriage was the theme on which they all declaimed." The Judge
gossiped publicly about his intentions. He writes: "They had laid one
out for me, and Governor Dudley told me 'twas Madam Winthrop. I told him
I had been there but thrice and twice upon business. He said _cave
tertium_." Even solemn Cotton Mather proffered counsel in a letter on
"paying regards to the Widow."
In spite of all these hints and commendations, and the Judge's evident
pleasure in receiving them, the Winthrop agitation all came to naught,
for about this time he was called to make a will for a Mr. Denison, of
Roxbury, who died on March 22d. Though the Judge was too upright and too
pious to let even his thoughts wander to a wife, the amazing rapidity
with which he turned his longing eyes on the newly-made widow (cruelly
forsaking Madam Winthrop) is only equalled by the act of the famous
Irish lover who proposed to a widow at the open grave of her husband.
Judge Sewall went home with widow Denison from her husband's funeral and
"prayed God to keep house with her." The very next day he writes, "Mr.
Danforth gives the Widow Denison a high commendation for her Piety,
Goodness, Diligence and Humility." On April 7th she came to the widower
to prove her husband's will; and another match-making friend, Mr. Dow,
"took occasion to say in her absence that she was one of the most
Dutiful Wives in the World." A few days later the Judge made her a gift,
"a Widow's book having writ her name in it."
At last, after talking the matter over with all his friends, he decided
positively to go a-courting. Widow Denison came to his house and he
says:
"I took her up into my chamber and discoursed Thorowly with her:
told her I intended to visit her next Lecture Day. She said 'twould
be talk'd of, I answered: In such Cases persons must run the
Gantlet. Gave her an Oration."
He visited her as he had promised and gave her "Dr. Mathers Sermons
neatly bound and told her in it we were invited to a wedding. She gave
me very good Curds." Other love gifts followed: "K. Georges Effigies in
Copper and an English Crown of K. Charles II. 1677." "A pound of
Reasons and Proportionate Almonds," "A Psalmbook elegantly bound in
Turkey leather," "A pair of Shoe Buckles cost five shillings three
pence." "Two Cases with a knife and fork in each; one Turtle Shell
Tackling; the other long with Ivory Handles squar'd cost four shillings
sixpence."
In the meantime he read with Cousin Moodey the history of Rebekah's
courtship, and then prayed over it, and over his own wooing. Madam
Rogers and Madam Leverett much congratulated him, and his daughter
Judith visited her prospective stepmother. But alas! the lady was coy
and averse to a decision:
"She mentions her Discouragement by reason of Discourse she had
heard. Ask't what I should allow her, she not speaking I told her I
was willing to allow her two hundred and fifty pounds per annum if
it should please God to take me out of the world before her. She
answered she had better keep as she was than give up a certainty
for an uncertainty. She would pay dear for her living in Boston. I
desired her to make Proposals but she made none. I had thought of
Publishment next Thursday. But I now seem far from it. My God who
has the pity of a Father Direct and help me."
Mr. Denison's will left his widow a portion of his estate to dispose of
as she wished if she did not marry again. Judge Sewall was unwilling to
make equal provision for her, hence the stumbling block in their
courtship.
After consulting with a friend, the Judge made a final visit to her on
November 28th.
"She said she thought it was hard to part with all and having
nothing to bestow on her Kindred. I had ask'd her to give me
proposals in Writing and she upbraided me That I who had never
written her a Letter should ask her to write. She asked me if I
would drink, I told her yes. She gave me Cider Aples and a Glass of
Wine, gathered together the little things I had given her and
offered them to me, but I would none of them. Told her I wish'd her
well and should be glad of her welfare. She seem'd to say she
should not again take in hand a thing of this nature. Thank'd me
for what I had given her and Desir'd my Prayers. My bowels yern
towards Mrs. Denison but I think God directs me in his Providence
to desist."
This love affair was not, however, quite ended, for the following Lord's
Day "after dark" Widow Denison came "very privat" to his house. This
Sunday visit betokened great anxiety on her part. She had walked in from
Roxbury in the cold, and when we remember how wolves and bears abounded
in the vicinity we comprehend still further her solicitude.
"She ask'd pardon if she had affronted me.... Mr. Denison spake to
her after signing his will that he would not make her put all out
of her Hand and power but reserve something to bestow on her
friends that might want.... I could not observe that she made me
any offer all the while. She mentioned two Glass Bottles she had.
I told her they were hers and the other small things I had given
her only now they had not the same signification as before, I was
much concerned for her being in the cold, would fetch her a plate
of something warm; she refused. However I fetched a Tankard of
Cider and drank to her. She desired that nobody might know of her
being here. I told her they should not. She went away in the bitter
Cold, no moon being up, to my great pain. I Saluted her at
Parting."
With that parting kiss on that dark cold night, in "great pain," ended
the Judge's second wooing.
That he was sincerely in love with Widow Denison one cannot doubt,
though he loved his money more. Disappointed, he did not again turn to
courting until the following August--much longer than he had waited
after the death of his wife. He then proceeded in a matter-of-fact way
to visit Widow Tilley, whom he had early noted in meeting. He asked her,
at his third visit, to "come and live in his house." "She expressed her
unworthiness with much respect," and both agreed to consider it. He gave
her a little book called "Ornaments of Sion;" Mr. Pemberton applauded
his courtship; Mrs. Armitage said that Mrs. Tilley had been a great
blessing to them; the banns were published; and the Judge's third wooing
ended in a marriage on October 24th.
But the bride was very ill on her wedding night, and after several
slight sicknesses through the winter, died on May 20th, to her husband's
"great amazement." Again he was a-seeking a "dear Yoke fellow," and on
September 30th, "Daughter Sewall acquainted Madam Winthrop that if she
pleased to be within at 3 P.M. I would wait on her." This was the same
Madam Winthrop whose attractions had been so completely obscured by the
bright halo which encircled the much-longed-for Widow Denison.
"Madam Winthrop returning answer that she would be at home, I went
to her house and spake to her saying my loving wife died so soon
and suddenly 'twas hardly convenient for me to think of Marrying
again, however I came to this Resolution that I would not make my
Court to any person without first consulting with her. Had a
pleasant Discourse about Seven Single persons sitting in the
Fore-Seat. She propounded one after another to me but none would
do."
Now, I think the Judge was very graceful in approaching a proposal to
this widow, for on his next visit he asked to see her alone, and he
resumed the pleasant discourse about the seven widows on the fore seat,
and said:
"At last I pray'd Katharine might be the person assigned for me.
She evidently took it up in the way of denyal as if she had catched
at an opportunity to do it, saying she could not do it, could not
leave her children."