gifts, "pieces of Mr. Belchar's cake and gingerbread wrapped in a clean
sheet of paper;" China oranges; the _News Letter_; Preston's "Church
Marriage;" sugared almonds (of which she inquired the price). He wrote
her a stilted letter with an allusion in it to Christopher Columbus,
and he had to explain it to her afterward. He gave money to her servants
and "penys" to her grandchildren, and heard them "say their catechise;"
and he had interviews and consultations with her relatives--her
children, her sister--who agreed not to oppose the marriage.
Still the progress of the courtship was not encouraging. Katharine went
to her neighbors' houses when she knew her suitor was coming to visit
her, and left him to read "Dr. Sibbs Bowels" for scant comfort. She
"look'd dark and lowering" at him and coldly placed tables or her
grandchild's cradle between her chair and his as they sat together. She
avoided seeing him alone. She "let the fire come to one short Brand
beside the Block and fall in pieces and make no recruit"--a broad hint
to leave. She "would not help him on with his coat"--a cutting blow. She
would not let her servant accompany him home with a lantern, but
heartlessly permitted her elderly lover to stumble home alone in the
dark. She spoke to him of his luckless courtship of Widow Denison (a
most unpleasant topic), thus giving a clue to the whole situation, in
showing that Madam Winthrop resented his desertion of her in his first
widowerhood, and like Falstaff, would not "undergo a sneap without
reply." He said, in apologetic answer:
"If after a first and second Vagary she would Accept of me
returning her Victorious Kindness and Good Will would be very
Obliging."
Undeterred by these many rebuffs, as she grew cold he waxed warm, and a
most lover-like and gallant scene ensued which would have done credit to
a younger man than the Judge. Here it is in his own words:
"I asked her to Acquit me of Rudeness if I drew off her Glove.
Enquiring the reason I told her 'twas great odds between handling a
dead Goat and a Living Lady. Got it off.... Told her the reason why
I came every other night was lest I should drink too Deep draughts
of Pleasure. She had talked of Canary, her Kisses were to me better
than the best Canary."
Naturally these warm words had a marked effect; she relaxed, drank a
glass of wine with him, and I trust gave him a Canary-sweet kiss, and
sent a servant home with him with a lantern.
The next visit the wind blew cold again. He had had one experience with
a short-lived wife, and he had determined that should his next wife die
he would still have some positive benefit from having married her. Hence
he kept pressing Madam Winthrop in a most unpleasant and ghoulish manner
to know what she would give him in case she died. He would allow her but
one hundred pounds per annum. She in turn persisted in questioning him
about the property he had given to his children; and she wished him to
agree to keep a coach (which he could well afford to do), and she wanted
it set on springs too. He said he could not do it while he paid his
debts. She also suggested that he should wear a wig. This annoyed him
beyond measure, for he hated with extreme Puritan intenseness those
"horrid Bushes of Vanity," and the suggestion from his would-be bride
was irritating in the extreme. He answered her with much self-control:
"As to a Periwigg my best and Greatest Friend begun to find me with
Hair before I was born and has continued to do so ever since and I
could not find it in my heart to go to another."
Still, when nearly all the men of dignity and position in the colony
wore imposing stately wigs, no woman would be pleased to have a lover
come a-courting in a _hood_.
So, though she gave him "drams of Black Cherry Brandy" and Canary to
drink and comfits and lump sugar to eat, while he so pressed her to name
her settlement on him, and while the wig and coach questions were so
adversely met, she would not answer yes, and he regretted making more
haste than good speed. At last the lover of the "kisses sweeter than
Canary" critically notes that his mistress has not on "Clean Linen;" and
the next day he writes rather sourly, "I did not bid her draw off her
Glove as sometime I had done. Her dress was not so clean as sometime it
had been;" the beginning of the end was plainly come. That week he
forbade her being invited to a family dinner, and she in turn gave a
"treat" from which he was excluded. Thus ended his fourth wooing.
The next widow on whom he called was Widow Belknap, but eftsoons he
transferred his attention to Widow Ruggles and wrote thus sentimentally
to her brother:
"I remember when I was going from school at Newbury to have
sometime met your sisters Martha and Mary in Hanging Sleeves coming
home from their school in Chandlers Lane, and have had the pleasure
of speaking to them. And I could find it in my heart to speak to
Mrs. Martha again, now I myself am reduc'd to my Hanging Sleeves.
The truth is, I have little occasion for a Wife but for the sake of
Modesty, and to lay my Weary Head in Her Lap, if it might be
brought to pass upon Honest Conditions. You know your sisters Age
and Disposition and Circumstances. I should like your advice in my
Fluctuations."
The Judge called on Mrs. Martha, probably after learning with precision
her circumstances. "I showed my willingness to renew my old
acquaintance. She expressed her inability to be serviceable." Even after
the Denison and Winthrop fluctuations he was not abashed by refusal, and
he must have been (to quote Mrs. Peachum's words) "a bitter bad judge 'o
women," for he called again and again.
"She seemed resolved not to move out of the house; made some
Difficulties to accept an Election Sermon lest it should be an
obligation to her. The coach staying long, I made some excuse for
my stay. She said she would be glad to wait on me till midnight
provided I should solicit her no more to that effect."
This decision he accepted.
Poor old wife-seeking Judge, with your hanging sleeves, your broken and
drooping wings, feebly did you still flutter around for a resting-place
to "lay your Weary Head in modesty." You fluctuated to a new widow,
Madam Harris, and she gave you "a nutmeg as it grew," ever a true
lover's gift in Shakespeare's day. On January 11th, 1722, this letter
was sent to "Mrs. Mary Gibbs, widow, at Newton."
"Madam, your removal out of town and the Severity of the Weather
are the Reason of my making you this Epistolary Visit. In times
past (as I remember) you were minded that I should marry you by
giving you to your desirable Bridegroom. Some sense of this
intended Respect abides with me still and puts me upon enquiring
whether you be willing I should marry you now by becoming your
Husband. Aged feeble and exhausted as I am your favourable Answer
to this Enquiry in a few lines, the Candour of it will much oblige,
Madam, your humble serv't Samuel Sewall."
This not-too-alluring love-letter brought a favorable answer, for the
Judge assured her she "writ incomparably well," and he accompanied this
praise with a suitable and useful gift, "A Quire of Paper, a good
Leathern Ink Horn, a stick of Sealing Wax and 200 Wafers in a little
Box."
He was even sharper in bargaining with Widow Gibbs than he had been with
other matrimonial candidates. She had no property to leave him by will,
but he astutely stipulated that her children sign a contract that,
should she die before him, they would pay him £100. She thought him
"hard," and so did her sons and her son-in-law, and so he was--hard even
for those times of hard bargains and hard marriage contracts in hard New
England. He would agree to give her but £50 a year in case of his death.
The value of wives had depreciated in his eyes since the £250 a year
Widow Denison. His gifts too were not as rich as those bestowed on that
yearned-for widow. He had seen too many tokens go for naught. Glazed
almonds, Meers cakes, an orange, were good enough for so cheap a
sweetheart. He remained very stiff and peremptory about the marriage
contract, the £100, and wrote her one very unpleasant letter about it;
and he feared lest she being so attached to her children might not be
tender to him "when there soon would be an end of the old man." At last
she yielded to his sharp bargain and they were married. He lived eight
years, so I doubt not Mary was tender to him and mourned him when he
died, hard though he was and wigless withal.
We gather from the pages of Judge Sewall's diary many hints about the
method of conducting other courtships. We discover the Judge craftily
and slyly inquiring whether his daughter Mary's lover-apparent had
previously courted another Boston maid; we see him conferring with lover
Gerrish's father; and after a letter from the latter we see the lover
"at Super and drank to Mary in the third place." He called again when it
was too cold to sit downstairs, and was told he would be "wellcomm to
come Friday night." We read on Saturday:
"In the evening Sam Gerrish comes not; we expected him; Mary
dress'd herself; it was a painfull disgracefull disapointment."
A month later the recreant lover reappeared and finally married poor
disappointed Mary, who died very complaisantly in a short time and left
him free to marry his first love, which he quickly did. We find the
Judge after his daughter's death higgling over her marriage portion with
Mr. Gerrish, Sr., and see that grief for her did not prevent him from
showing as much shrewdness in that matter as he had displayed in his own
courtships.
Timid Betty Sewall was as much harassed in love as in religion. We find
her father, when she was but seventeen years old, making frequent
investigation about the estate of one Captain Tuthill, a prospective
suitor who had visited Betty and "wished to speak with her." The Judge
had his hesitating daughter read aloud to him of the mating of Adam and
Eve, as a soothing and alluring preparation for the thought of
matrimony, with, however, this most unexpected result:
"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 her at several houses, till at last came in of herself
and look'd very wild."
This action of pure maidenly terror elicited sympathy even in the
Judge's match-making heart, and he told the lover he was willing to know
his daughter's mind better. This was on January 10th, 1698. Ten days
later we find wild-eyed Betty going out of her way to avoid drinking
wine with one Captain Turner, much to her father's annoyance. By
September she had refused another suitor.
Her father wrote thus:
"Got home [from Rhode Island] by seven, in good health, though the
day was hot, find my family in health, only disturbed at Betty's
denying Mr. Hirst, and my wife hath a cold. The Lord sanctify
Mercyes and Afflictions."
And again, a month later:
"Mr. Wm. Hirst comes and thanks my wife and me for our kindness to
his Son, in giving him the liberty of our house. Seems to do it in
the way of taking leave. I thank'd him, and for his countenance to
Hannah at the Wedding. Told him that the well wisher's of my
daughter and his son had persuaded him to go to Brantry and visit
her there, &c.; and said if there were hopes would readily do it.
But as things were twould make persons think he was so involved
that he was not fit to go any wether else. He has I suppose taken
his final leave. I gave him Mr. Oakes Sermon, and my Father Hulls
Funeral Sermon."
Two days later, Judge Sewall writes to Betty, who has gone to "Brantry"
on a visit.
BOSTON, October 26, 1699.
"ELIZABETH: Mr. Hirst waits on 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 well consider whether
you will be able to bear his final leaving of you, howsoever it may
seem grateful to you at present. When persons come toward us we are
apt to look upon their undesirable Circumstances mostly: and
thereupon 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 wofull disquiet. Whereas 'tis the
property of a good Ballance to turn where the most weight is,
though there be some also in the other Scale. I do not see but 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 unmovable,
incurable Aversion from him and cannot love and honor and obey him,
I shall say no more, nor give you any further trouble in this
matter. It had better off than on. So praying God to pardon us and
pitty 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.
"Your mother remembers to you."
Even this very proper and fatherly advice did not have an immediate
effect upon the shy and vacillating young girl, for not until a year
later did she become the wife of persistent Grove Hirst.
One of the most typical stories of colonial methods of "matching" among
fine gentlefolk is found in the worry of Emanuel Downing, a man of
dignity in the commonwealth, and of his wife, Lucy (who was Gov.
Winthrop's sister), in regard to the settlement of their children.
Downing begins with anxious overtures to Endicott in regard to "matching
his sonne" to an orphan maid living in Endicott's family, a maid who it
is needless to state had a very pretty fortune. Downing states that he
has been blamed for not marrying off his children earlier, "that none
are disposed of," and deplores his ill-luck in having them so long on
his hands, and he recounts pathetically his own and his son's good
points. He also got Governor Winthrop to write to Endicott pleading the
match. Endicott answered both letters in a most dignified manner,
stating his objections to furthering Downing's wishes, giving a
succession of reasons, such as the maid's unwillingness to marry, being
but fifteen years of age, his own awkward position in seeming to crowd
marriage upon her when she was so rich, etc., etc. The Downings had
hoped to have thriftily two marriages in the family in one day, but the
daughter Luce's affairs also halted. She had been enamoured of a Mr.
Eyer, an unsuitable match. He had put out to sea, to the Downings'
delight, but had returned at an unlucky time when she was on with a
fresh suitor. Her mother was much distressed because, though Luce
declared she much liked Mr. Norton, she still showed to all around her
that "she hath not yet forgotten Mr. Eyer his fresh Red."
But Mistress Luce, by a telling statement of pecuniary benefits, was
brought to a proper mind and became "verie sensible of loseing fair
opportunities," and consented speedily to wed Norton, to her father's
abounding joy, who wrote, "shee may stay long ere she meet with a better
vnless I had more monie for her than I now can spare." The betrothal was
formally announced, when shortly a distressed letter from Madam Downing
shows foul weather ahead. Luce had been talking among her friends,
giving to them "unjust suspicions of the enforcement to her of Mr.
Norton," and while she had seemed to love Mr. Eyer, and her family had
eagerly striven to win her regard from him, "we now suspect by her late
words her affections to be now inclininge at Jhon Harrold." It was found
that Jhon had "practised upon her and disturbed her," and that while she
was "free and cheerful" with Lover Norton, "passing conversation" with
him, she was really conspiring to jilt him. The mother wrote sadly: "I
am sorrie my daughter Luce hath caryed things thus vnwisely and
vnreputably both to herselfe and our friends;" and the whole family were
evidently sorely afraid that the "perverse Puritan jade" would be left
on their hands, when suddenly came the news of her marriage to Norton,
owing perhaps to a very decided and sharp letter from Norton's brother
to the Governor about Mistress Luce's vagaries, and also to some more
satisfactory and liberal marriage settlements. She probably made as
devoted a wife to him as if she had never longed for Eyer his fresh red,
nor Jhon his disturbments.
Nor were these upright and pious Puritan magistrates and these
gentlewomen of Boston and Salem the only colonists who displayed such
sordid and mercenary bargaining and stipulating in matrimonial ventures:
numberless letters and records throughout New England prove the
unvarying spirit of calculation that pervaded fashionable courtship. A
bride's portion was openly discussed, her marriage settlement carefully
decided upon, and even agreements for bequests were arranged as
"incurredgment to marriage." Nor did happy husbands hesitate to sue for
settlement too tardy or too remiss fathers-in-law who failed to keep
their word about the bride's portion: Edward Palmes for years harassed
the Winthrops about their sister's (his first wife's) portion, long
after he had married a second partner.
Though the tender passion walked thus ceremoniously and coldly in narrow
and carefully selected paths in town, in the country it regarded little
the bounds of reserve or regard for appearances. Much comparative
grossness prevailed. The mode of courting, known as "bundling" or
"tarrying" was too prevalent in colonial times to be ignored. A full
description of its extent, and an attempt to trace its origin, have been
given in a book on the subject prepared by Dr. H. R. Stiles, and with
much fairness in a pamphlet by Charles Francis Adams on "Some Phases of
Sexual Morality and Church Discipline in Colonial New England."
Its existence has been a standing taunt for years against New England,
and its prevalence has been held up as a proof of a low state of
morality in early New England society. Indeed, it was strange it could
so long exist in so austere and virtuous a colony; that it did, to a
startling extent, must be conceded; much proof is found in the books of
contemporary writers. Rev. Andrew Burnaby, who travelled in New England
in 1759-1760, says that though it may "at first appear to be the effects
of grossness of character, it will upon deeper research be found to
proceed from simplicity and innocence." To this assertion, after some
research, I can give--to use Sir Thomas Browne's words--"a staggering
assent to the affirmative, not without some fear of the negative." Rev.
Samuel Peters, in his General History of Connecticut, speaks at length
upon the custom, and apparently endeavors to prove that it was a very
prudent and Christian fashion. Jonathan Edwards raised his powerful
voice against it. It prevailed apparently to its fullest extent on Cape
Cod, and longest in the Connecticut valley, where many Dutch customs
were introduced and much intercourse with the Dutch was carried on. In
Pennsylvania, among the Dutch and German settlers and their descendants,
it lingered long; it was a matter of Court record as late as 1845. Yet
the custom of bundling has never been held to be a result of copying the
similar Dutch "queesting," which in Holland met with the sanction of
the most circumspect Dutch parents; and tergiversating Diedrich
Knickerbocker even asserted the contrary assumption, that the Dutch
learned of it from the Yankees. In Holland, as now in Wales and then in
New England, the custom arose not from a low state of morals, nor from a
disregard of moral appearances, but from the social and industrial
conditions under which such courting was done. The small size and
crowded occupancy of the houses, the alternative waste of lights and
fuel, the hours at which the hurried courtship must be carried on, all
led to the recognition and endurance of the custom; and in its open
recognition lay its redeeming feature. There was no secrecy, no thought
of concealment; the bundling was done under the supervision of mother
and sisters.
As a contrast to all this laxity of behaviour, let me state that in the
very locality where it obtained--the Connecticut Valley--other
sweethearts are said to have been forced to a most ceremonious
courtship, to whisper their tender nothings through a "courting-stick,"
a hollow stick about an inch in diameter and six or eight feet long,
fitted with mouth- and ear-pieces. In the presence of the entire family,
lovers, seated formally on either side of the great fireplace, carried
on this chilly telephonic love-making. One of these bâtons of propriety
still is preserved in Longmeadow, Mass.
Of this primitive colony with primitive manners some very extraordinary
cases of bucolic love at first sight are recorded--love that did not
follow the law of pounds, shillings, and pence. At an ordination in
Hopkinton, New Hampshire, a country bumpkin forgot the place, the
preacher, and the preaching, in the ravishing sight of an unknown damsel
whom he saw for the first time within the meeting-house. He sat
entranced through the long sermon, the tedious psalm-singings, the
endless prayers, until at last the services were over. In an ecstasy of
uncouth and unreasoning passion he rushed out of church, forced his way
through the departing congregation, seized the unknown fair one in his
arms crying out, "Now I have got ye, you jade, I have! I have!" And from
so startling and unalluring a beginning, a marriage followed. In a
neighboring community a dignified officer of the law went to "warn out
of town" a strange "transient woman" who might become a pauper, and
would then have to be kept at the town's expense, were this ceremony
omitted. Terrified at the majesty of the law and its grand though
incomprehensible wording, the young warned one burst into tears, which
so worked upon the tender-hearted officer that he (being conveniently a
widower) proposed to her offhand, was called in meeting, married her,
and thus took her under his own and the town's protection. More than one
case of "marriage at first sight" is recounted, of bold Puritan wooers
riding up to the door of a fair one whom they had never seen, telling
their story of a lonely home, forlorn housekeeping, and desired
marriage, giving their credentials, obtaining a hasty consent, and
sending in their "publishings" to the town clerk, all within a day's
time.
The "matrimonial" advertisement did not appear till 1759. In the _Boston
Evening Post_ of February 23d of that year, this notice, for its novelty
and boldness, must have caused quite a heart-fluttering among Boston
"thornbacks" who would try to pass for the desired age:
"To the Ladies. Any young Lady between the Age of Eighteen and
twenty three of a Midling Stature; brown Hair, regular Features and
a Lively Brisk Eye: Of Good Morals & not Tinctured with anything
that may Sully so Distinguishable a Form possessed of 3 or 400£
entirely her own Disposal and where there will be no necessity of
going Through the tiresome Talk of addressing Parents or Guardians
for their consent: Such a one by leaving a Line directed for A. W.
at the British Coffee House in King Street appointing where an
Interview may be had will meet with a Person who flatters himself
he shall not be thought Disagreeable by any Lady answering the
above description. N. B. Profound Secrecy will be observ'd. No
Trifling Answers will be regarded."
Hawthorne says: "Now this was great condescension towards the ladies of
Massachusetts Bay in a threadbare lieutenant of foot."