In a nod to the calendar, we examine three court cases that evoke the old adage, “Marry in the month of May, and you’ll surely rue the day.” The origins of this phrase are unclear, but the superstition may date all the way back to ancient Rome. It also appears in English, Irish, and Scottish folklore. We also discuss Connecticut laws regarding marriage during the colonial and early American eras, as well as various popular contemporary views on matrimony.
When quoting from documents, we will use the actual spelling, including transcriptions of individual words as necessary. (For more information about colonial spelling practices, see The Standardization of American English at teachinghistory.org.) In certain circumstances, we will add missing letters to abbreviated words or substitute modern spelling in brackets to enhance reader comprehension.
The Pleasures of the Married State, a positive portrayal of marriage. This panegyric was published in London, circa 1780. Image courtesy of W. Proud, Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
The Joys of Domestic Life (as translated from French), a satire on marriage. Created by British caricaturist and printmaker James Gillray in 1781. Image courtesy of James Gillray and the National Portrait Gallery of London, Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
As the images above demonstrate, there were conflicting attitudes regarding marriage in eighteenth-century England.
One attitude held that marriage was of the highest good for men, women, and society overall. The poem contained in the first image extolls the joys of a wife “so chaste, so tender, and so kind” and children who are the “comfort” and “joy” of their parents, while bemoaning the “idle Rakes... Fops, and Beaus” who did not get to experience this happy state (see the description for File:Married-state-ca1780.jpg on Wikimedia Commons for more information about this image).
Another widespread attitude postulated that marriage was a trap – particularly for men. In the second image, a “henpecked husband” cringes at his wife’s aggressive demeanor as they are surrounded by their numerous and unruly children (see the description for File:Les plaisir du mènage by James Gillray.jpg on Wikimedia Commons for more information about this image).
Both of these attitudes made their way across the Atlantic to the American colonies. Whereas the Puritans were partial to the view of marriage being the highest good, anti-matrimonial sentiment became increasingly common as colonial culture became more anglicized over the generations. As Cornelia Hughes Dayton wrote, “By the 1750s and 1760s New England printers showed a newfound penchant for including in their newspapers stories, poems, and jokes about nagging, spendthrift wives – many of which were borrowed directly from the London newssheets... [This] would never have been tolerated by the magistrates who controlled seventeenth-century New England presses, given the Puritan concern to portray marriage as a positive good for both men and women” (Women Before the Bar: Gender, Law, and Society in Connecticut, 1639-1789, pp. 154-155).
We want to note that in these images representing marriage attitudes of the era, there is a distinct absence of feminine perspective. The media portraying marriage in those days, whether positive or negative, appears to have been primarily concerned with examining matrimony from a masculine point of view.
Connecticut laws regarding marriage during the eighteenth century sought to prevent what the colonists and early Americans would have considered incestuous unions. Several “degrees of kindred” were listed as forbidden for a man to marry, including mothers, daughters, granddaughters, grandparents, aunts, and nieces. (Notably, cousin relationships were not included in this list!) The highly specific wording of these categories (e.g., mother’s brother’s wife) seems to indicate that unions between those who were related by affinity but not necessarily blood were not sanctioned. The penalties for disobeying this law were severe, including automatic disinheritance of any children born, being whipped up to forty stripes, and the compulsory wearing of a capital I (for incest) on one’s garments in open view. (The Public Statute Laws of the State of Connecticut, Book 1, pp. 478-479)
To avoid running afoul of incest taboos, as well as to discourage clandestine unions, betrothed couples were required to publish their intentions to marry “in some public meeting or congregation on the Lord’s day, or on some public fast, thanksgiving, or lecture-day, in the town, parish, or society where the parties, or either of them do ordinarily reside” at least eight days before the ceremony was to occur (The Public Statute Laws of the State of Connecticut, Book 1, p. 477).
Only magistrates, justices of the peace, and ordained ministers were legally allowed to perform marriages. Given that Connecticut town governments were ecclesiastical in nature and often highly territorial about the management of their own jurisdictions, it wasn’t until 1805 that ministers with parishes in more than one county were allowed to marry couples in all of the counties in which they resided. These officials were also required to certify that the parents or guardians of the bride and groom consented to the union. (The Public Statute Laws of the State of Connecticut, Book 1, pp. 478, 481)
The marrying of more than one spouse at a time, called bigamy, was highly illegal and punishable in the same manner as adultery. During the eighteenth century, the penalty for these offenses was whipping or branding. Interestingly, marriage laws also banned women from dressing in men’s apparel, and vice versa! (The Public Statute Laws of the State of Connecticut, Book 1, pp. 480-481)
Writ for Judah Woodruff vs. Benjamin Hall
In 1771, Judah Woodruff of Farmington sued Benjamin Hall of Wallingford for acting in a “Private and Clandestine Manner” by joining his daughter Asenath, who was 17 years of age and therefore a minor, to Levi Clark in marriage. The writ for the case specifically quoted the applicable statutes (as discussed in the previous section) that Hall violated: this marriage was not published, nor had Woodruff given his consent for the union to occur.
Both Asenath and Levi were also from Farmington, and Hall married them in Wallingford. Given that the writ stated this ceremony was “against the Mind and Will of the Pl[ain]t[iff],” we surmise that the couple most likely eloped to thwart Woodruff’s disapproval of the match.
In recompense for this thwarting of his “Mind and Will,” Woodruff demanded 20 pounds in damages from Hall. Interestingly, the Court found the plaintiff’s declaration insufficient, and awarded the defendant recovery of his court costs. Unsurprisingly, Woodruff appealed and was bound on recognizance of 20 pounds, lest he “make not his plea Good” (County Court Records, New Haven County, Vol. 7, 1767 to 1773, p. 320).
Writ for William Davidson vs. Nathan Fenn
In December 1783, William Davidson of Milford sued the Reverend Nathan Fenn of Middletown for marrying Richard Morris and Mary Marchant of Milford when he “does not dwell, neither is he settled in or ordained in the Ministry in s[ai]d Milford nor was he at the time of s[ai]d Marr[i]age.”
In recompense for this offense, Davidson sought damages of 20 pounds to the Treasury of the County of New Haven. Upon consideration of the matter, the Court deemed the plaintiff’s declaration sufficient and awarded full damages, plus court costs. Fenn subsequently appealed to the Superior Court and was bound on recognizance of 50 pounds, lest he “make not his plea Good” (County Court Records, New Haven County, Vol. 9, 1783 to 1788, p. 39).
This wasn’t the only instance in which Reverend Fenn ran afoul of Connecticut’s marriage laws. In January 1786, Davidson sued him again, this time for marrying Theophilus Miles and Sarah Prince Fenn of Milford when he “does not dwell, neither is he settled or ordained in the Ministry in s[ai]d Milford nor was he at the time of said Marr[i]age.” Once again, Davidson requested 20 pounds in damages. Fenn failed to appear, so the Court awarded the plaintiff full damages and court costs (County Court Records, New Haven County, Vol. 9, 1783 to 1788, p. 256).
Writ and court proceedings for Rex (on behalf of Elizabeth Andross) vs. Jedidiah Andross
In 1753, Elizabeth Andross of New Haven made a formal complaint to Justice of the Peace John Hubbard that her husband Jedidiah “abused her very cruelly & Barbarously, and some Time past did throw her down on the Floor and stamp on her Body, drew out his Knife, and threatned therewith to kill her and sundry Times threatned that he would send her Soul to Hell... she is so terrified by her s[ai]d Husband that she really believes he intends to kill her, and has made oath to the above complaint, and that she goes in continued Fear of her Life & prays she may have surety for his peaceable Behavior and be protected from him.”
As discussed in a previous post, Connecticut had some of the most liberal divorce laws in the Western world at the time. However, per these laws, divorce could only be obtained in three circumstances: adultery, fraudulent contract, or desertion. In the colonial period, cruelty by itself was not considered sufficient grounds for the dissolution of a marriage, for the courts were loath to interfere with a man’s patriarchal authority in his own household. (Dayton, Women Before the Bar, pp. 115, 136)
However, as the Revolutionary ideal of attaining freedom from tyranny became popular during the 1780s, the Connecticut legislature finally began to approve divorces for cruelty alone. In 1843, this rationale was finally codified into law, along with divorce on the grounds of intemperance. (Dayton, Women Before the Bar, pp. 107, 144, 156)
Unfortunately, these reforms came too late to help Elizabeth Andross. Her only legal option to prevent further violence was to petition the Court for a surety of the peace, whereupon her husband would be bound on recognizance for good behavior between two County Court sessions. As Dayton notes, this approach was largely ineffective:
Only nine wife-abuse complaints came before the New Haven County bench in the eighty years following 1710, and in all nine instances the husband was discharged once the initial term of his bond was up, since no witnesses (including his wife) appeared to testify that his miscarriage had persisted. In some cases, the complaint might have functioned to rally neighbors and local officials to keep a strict daily watch over the troubled household, thus temporarily sparing the wife the more dramatic episodes of abuse. But peace bonds offered no lasting security to the wife. Indeed, for most wives the disincentives for filing a complaint against husbands with whom they continued to live must have been compelling: the difficulty of proving cruelty; the likelihood that their husbands, unrepentant in court, would punish them privately after the court hearing; and, finally, the shame brought upon one’s family by such a public affair (Women Before the Bar, pp. 136-137).
Indeed, Jedidiah was bound to a surety in a recognizance of 100 pounds for his good behavior. Upon review of his case during the August 1753 session, “no Person appeared to inform against him,” so he was discharged from his bond (County Court Records, New Haven County, Vol. 4, 1739 to 1755, p. 620).
If it weren’t for the existence of the writ and the court proceedings for this case, we would not know Elizabeth’s story. Women suffering from domestic violence were largely rendered invisible in the official Court Record Books. Not only did the Court not give reason for Jedidiah’s bond in the entry for this case, Elizabeth’s name wasn’t even mentioned. In the index for this volume, the case is filed under Jedidiah, along with several other lawsuits he initiated for debt and trespass. And to highlight just how challenging it can be to trace women in the court records, the official plaintiff for this case was Rex, rather than Elizabeth herself.
The two papers pictured above are the only documentation we have of Elizabeth’s plight, as there is no further mention of her situation in the County Court records afterward. Thankfully, she was not murdered by her husband. According to various genealogical websites, Elizabeth and Jedidiah lived another 31 years after this court case, whereupon they perished of various types of ague in 1784. However, given what we know about domestic violence, it is sadly likely that her marriage continued to be abusive.
Due to the shame and ignominy surrounding domestic violence at the time (a problem that still persists to this day), Elizabeth may have viewed the subtlety and discretion of the Court as a kindness and a relief. As such, we do not tell these sordid stories to arouse prurient interest or embarrass descendants, but as cautionary tales and reckonings with the truth of our history. If we are to prevent such atrocities in the future, we must be able to uncover and learn from the suffering of those in the past.
As noted in a previous post, the records for these cases, as well as several of the cases previously profiled in this blog, are currently in the process of being digitized. They will eventually be available for public viewing at the Connecticut Digital Archive (CTDA).
The Connecticut State Library would like to thank the National Historical Publications and Records Commission (NHPRC) for their generous support of this project.
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