Puritan lovers did not always hesitate to prosecute their parents for refusing marriage when permission had once been given. Such was the fate of Hope Allen, who admitted before the Massachusetts court that "he did give his consent yt ye said Mr. Deacon should haue his daughter;" and accordingly for breaking his word he was censured, and had to pay a fine of ten pounds for his "irregular procedure."[611] The action might take a still more interesting form, including both the recreant parents and the promised consort in the same complaint. In this way Richard Sutton alleges "against Moses Symonds and Sarah, his wife, and Elizabeth theire daughter, that shee, the said Elizabeth, hath made a promise of marriage vnto him, and is hindered by the parents ... from proceeding with her therin." The court after due consideration decides that Moses ought to pay the said Richard "the su[=m]e of three pounds, for satisfaction for his time and charges spent about the [p=]mises;" but not without kindly releasing the couple from their engagement, "vnless on second considerations they shall see cause to renew theire former couenants."[612]
These illustrations would seem to show that the blighted hopes and disappointed affections of New England lovers were not judicially reckoned at an extortionate figure. But those were the days of "small change" in all domestic affairs. As a matter of fact, the colonists were a close-fisted, bargaining race;[613] and in no respect perhaps were they more prudent than in their matrimonial transactions. Sometimes very careful contracts were executed in court regarding the property rights of the future husband and wife.[614] Often before betrothal and almost invariably before wedlock an exact arrangement was made between the parents touching the marriage portion on either side. The "higgling of dowries," suggests Weeden, was one of the most "singular practices" of New England life.[615] Even paupers were provided a marriage portion at the county's charge.[616] No shrewder hand at a bargain existed than Judge Sewall, whose Diary and Letter-Book are crowded with illustrations of this and other matrimonial customs. In 1712 we find him planning a match between his daughter Mary and young Samuel Gerrish. So he dines with the father and "discourses" with him "about my Daughter Mary's Portion. I stood for making £550 doe: because now twas in six parts, the Land was not worth so much. He urg'd for £600. at last would split the £50. Finally Feb. 20. I agreed to charge the House Rent and Difference of Money, and make it up to £600."[617]
The worthy magistrate was not less thrifty in managing his own courtships, never for a moment allowing mere sentiment to get the better of prudence. From the outset he was lucky; for in 1676, according to tradition, he received as a dowry with his first wife, Hannah Hull, her weight in pine-tree shillings, which her father, the mint-master, measured out to him against her body in his own scales. In reality, his wife brought him much more than this fabled treasure; for six years after the wedding he came into the enjoyment of the mint-master's large estate, thus laying the foundation of his own fortune and official career.[618] Hannah lived with him more than forty years, bearing him seven sons and seven daughters. On her death the judge writes to a friend: "Wife expired on Satterday Oct. 19th, a little before Sun-Sett; and I lost my most constant lover, my most laborious Nurse; which produc'd a Flood of Tears in our Bed Chamber."[619]
Soon, however, he was able to stem the torrent of his grief, for on the sixth day of the next February he enters in his diary: "Wandering in my mind whether to lead a Single or a Married Life."[620] Indeed, several weeks before this, when his wife was hardly two months dead, his mind and feet had begun to wander in the direction of Madam Winthrop,[621] upon whom, in his usual kindly way, he had bestowed certain tokens of his regard.[622] But for the present the charms of Widow Winthrop had to yield to those of Widow Dennison, whose goodly estate he had come to admire through having drawn her husband's will.[623] Attending her home from the funeral of her late consort, he "prayed God to keep house with her."[624] This was in March. Presently he opens serious negotiations. He makes her numerous presents, among which are "A pound of Reasons and Proportionable Almonds;" a "Psalm-Book neatly bound in England with Turkey-Leather;" the "last two News Letters;" "Dr. Mathers Sermons very well bound," and "told her in it we were invited to a wedding;" a "pair of Shoe-buckles, cost 5s 3d;" and "Two cases with a Knife and a fork in each; one Turtle shell tackling: the other long with Ivory handles Squar'd, cost 4s 6d."[625] In November, after much visiting and chaffering, he came to the point. "I told her 'twas time now to finish our Business: Ask'd her what I should allow her; she not speaking; I told her I was willing to give Two [Hundred] and Fifty pounds per a[=n]um, during her life, if it should please God to take me out of this world before her. She answer'd she had better keep as she was, than give a Certainty for an uncertainty; she should pay dear for dwelling at Boston. I desired her to make proposals, but she made none. I had Thoughts of Publishment next Thorsday, the 6th. But I now seem far from it. May God, who has the pity of a Father, Direct and help me."[626]
This is by no means the end. The courtship drags along, and they continue to "higgle like hucksters and pedlers."[627] "She said she thought twas Hard to part with All, and have nothing to bestow on her Kindred. I said, I did not intend anything of the Movables, I intended all the personal Estate to be to her. She said I seem'd to be in hurry on Satterday ... which was the reason she gave me no proposals. Whereas I had ask'd her long before to give me proposals in Writing; and she upbraided me, That I who had never written her a Letter, should ask her to write." So the thrifty judge, although his "bowels" did "yern toward Mrs. Dennison," must even decide that God "in his Providence" directed him to "desist."[628] Later the widow grew more kind. On the following Lord's day she came to see him in the evening, walking all the way from Roxbury. She "ask'd pardon if she had affronted me;" and plainly let it be seen that she was not averse to the match, if only she were not called upon to "put all out of her Hand and power" and could "reserve something to bestow" on her deceased husband's friends "that might want." But, says Samuel, "I could not observe that she made me any offer of any part all this while." So "she went away in the bitter Cold, no Moon being up, to my great pain. I saluted her at parting."[629]
Then the judge turned to Widow Tilly, whom he married on the next Thanksgiving day (October 29, 1719), though she pleaded her "Unworthiness of such a thing with much Respect."[630] But the union was short-lived; for in May of the next year "a very Extraordinary, awful Dispensation" came to the Judge. "About midnight," he writes, "my dear wife expired to our great astonishment, especially mine."[631]
Already by the following December he wants God to "yet again provide such a good Wife for me, that I may be able to say I have obtained Favour of the Lord."[632] For in the meantime his mind has been "wandering" again toward Catherine Winthrop. But the gentle widow is now very coy and close at a bargain. After many visits and some interesting love passages,[633] the judge writes, she "was Courteous to me; but took occasion to speak pretty earnestly about my keeping a Coach: I said 'twould cost £100. per a[=n]um: she said twould cost but £40."[634] Clearly the issue was getting too sharply joined; and it is not wholly surprising that the lady was a trifle cool at her suitor's next visit.[635] Later he asked her "when our proceedings should be made publick: She said they were like to be no more publick than they were already. Offer'd me no Wine that I remember." She did not offer to help him on with his coat, nor at his request would she send her servant Juno to light him home.[636] It is to be feared that Catherine had not forgiven her suitor for leaving her for Widow Dennison, and was now getting "even." But the judge stood manfully to his arms. At the next meeting "I told her ... I was come to enquire whether she could find in her heart to leave that House and Neighborhood, and go and dwell with me at the South-end; I think she said softly, Not yet. I told her it did not ly in my Lands to keep a coach.... Told her I had an Antipathy against those who would pretend to give themselves; but nothing of their Estate. I would [give] a proportion of my Estate with my self. And I su[=p]os'd she would do so."[637] It goes without saying that when Sewall made his next call the lady was "not at home." After one or two more futile efforts[638] at coming to terms the grapes began to sour. The aged wooer somewhat spitefully closes this unlucky chapter of his courtships with the ungallant remark that "I did not bid her draw off her Glove as sometimes I had done. Her dress was not so clean as sometimes it had been. Jehovah jireh."[639] Thus Eros regained his sight.
Several other attempts prove not more successful in providing the venerable widower with a suitable place to rest his "weary Head in Modesty."[640] But at last, humbly confessing himself, "aged, and feeble, and exhausted," he offers himself as a husband to Mrs. Mary Gibbs, of Newton, who is all too yielding in her reply.[641] For with this gentle dame the astute wooer, erstwhile so meek, at once proceeds to drive the sharpest bargain in the long history of his courtships. As she had no property to leave him by will, he insists upon the following harsh conditions: "I Rode to Newtown in the Coach, and visited Mrs. Gibbs. Spake of the proposals I had intimated per Mr. H. Gibbs; for her Sons to be bound to save me harmless as to her Administration; and to pay me £100. provided their Mother died before me: I to pay her £50. per a[=n]um during her Life, if I left her a Widow. She said 'twas hard, she knew not how to have her children bound to pay that Sum; she might dye in a little time. Mr. Cotton, whom she call'd spake to the same purpose, spake of a Joynture. I said I was peremptory as to the indemnifying Bond; Offer'd to take up with that alone, and allow her forty pounds per a[=n]um."[642]
These terms, "hard" as they were and again insisted upon with most unromantic bluntness,[643] were at length accepted by the amiable Mary; who, surviving her kindly though grasping spouse, was no doubt by his side, according to his wish, to "carry it tenderly"[644] with him when he passed to his last reckoning.