Most of the councilors maintained homes in Boston where their wives served as regional hosts for visitors to the city. Some had grand homes there or in the nearby towns of Roxbury, Cambridge, Malden, and Milton. These beautifully furnished places added a touch of luster to any gathering. The wives of councilors, a group of more than 20, along with the wives of local representatives who often had homes in Boston, more than matched the number of wives of the administrative force. Of course, Boston and the surrounding towns had a large population of generally prosperous merchants who used the port as a base for business and communication. Their wives and families were also a major part of the social community. Many of their relatives were among the legislators who came to the city, and there were also widows in their households who were anxiously looking for a second or third husband.
Legislators entered office at an average age of 50. By that time, their wives had finished childbearing, but had problems with growing children. Most wives in youth endured a steady experience of childbirths, which occurred within eighteen months or less. Large families put an obvious strain on the wives who most assuredly had their hands full caring for young children and awaiting another birth. Such burdens weakened wives’ health and may have caused premature death. The birth of their first child frequently caused their death. Sometimes their names were not even given in the records as grieving husbands turned to another wife for comfort. Second wives thus gave them their families, but the second wives could also die prematurely. For some men, a third, fourth, and fifth wife may have followed. At the time of his election to the House of Representatives, the legislator had undoubtedly married a second time, but by then most of his children were nearly grown up.2
The early deaths of wives, and of husbands too, had their impact on the possibility of divorce, which was rare, and on separation, which occurred but was difficult to detect because of the traditional secrecy of such matters. The effect of emotional changes in later life has much to do with marriages of long duration, but only a few families probably suffered the family embarrassment of the Sewalls who had a long life together.3 Samuel Sewall, Jr., and his wife Rebecca Dudley had extramarital affairs for nearly a decade in the early 1700s. He went his way for years by staying in Boston at his father’s home, and Rebecca remained at Muddy River on their estate where she soon had a love affair with William Isley of Newbury. Their illegitimate son caused a family uproar, and the further revelation that husband Samuel had his own affectionate moments with the maids added fuel to the controversy. The news of the child brought a family conference. Former Governor Dudley and Councillor Samuel Sewall, the Attorney General Paul Dudley, and the Roxbury minister became secret peacemakers and negotiators. Sewall, Sr., complained about financial charges to his estate by a bastard grandson. The former governor expressed proper sympathy for the complaint and agreed to a contractual condition by donating £100 for their new grandson’s welfare. Sewall, Jr., then went home to his wife (she sent a horse for transportation from Boston), and she offered a suitable apology. The strained compromise was possible because few divorces were tolerated in socially sensitive Boston. The child, however, was apparently given out for adoption, allowed to disappear into obscurity, and became the charge of a tradesman or farmer. In a short time the Sewalls had a reconciliation child, named Henry, the sixth child in Samuel Sewell, Jr.’s, family and the only one to survive childhood. Years later Henry was admitted to Harvard College, married Ann White of Brookline, and had five children of his own. He died in 1771, a respectable member of the Sewall clan. Unlike his grandparents and uncles, he was not a member of the legislature.4
Marriages lasting many years were indeed exceptional, but few men and women waited long after the death of their spouses before they looked for another partner. Most men and women resumed married life with another person when death ended their first marriage. Children needed care, the household needed a manager, and sexual desires needed to be satisfied. Amazingly a few people did not marry, some had only a few children, and a handful of widows and widowers never remarried. Some people may have even practiced birth control.5 But the vast number of legislators and their wives enjoyed the privilege of having large families and of rearing astonishingly large numbers of children. Seven or eight children would be an average family.
Registered births may not truly account for all children born. Recordkeeping was uneven across New England. Probably there were more children in families than fewer. Bible records often reveal additional children. When official records miss the maiden name of a wife, fail to register both the marriage and death of wives, and sometimes years later list the children of a family, it is possible that some wives and more children were not registered, especially the stillborn and the dead children of premature births.
Even with the early deaths of many women, they were still a hardy group. Their mortality rate was undoubtedly similar to the men’s, but New England society always seemed to have many widows. Their husbands often died of disease, which swept regularly across the colony. Measles and fevers were takers of men, but farm accidents were also responsible for many casualties. The perils of the frontier touched lives until well beyond the American Revolution. Indian and English feuds took lives, but other frontier conditions of water purity, land breaking, and isolation were far greater causes of death. War certainly took its toll, especially the siege at Fort Louisbourg in 1745, the Seven Years War, and the military disasters at Forts Oswego, William Henry, and Ticonderoga. Deaths in the camps, along the trails, and on the open seas were equally serious.
The ordinary mortality rate for children was fearful for all parents. Epidemics swept across the colony with almost diabolical regularity, and children in certain age groups died in town after town from the spreading diseases. Parents had little hope of protecting their children from the approaching menace, even when they hurriedly lodged their children in a neighboring town with relatives. Though their families sometimes seemed very large, in reality, the parents at their deaths might be the sole survivors. Wills of the husbands reveal that their married children who lived to be parents often died prematurely. Wills listed the surviving spouses and the grandchildren, and the favorite personal items, silver, shoe buckles, and clothes, which would be marks of remembrance in the bequests.
The precarious condition of life was ever present. Old Robert Hooper of Marblehead had witnessed the deaths of three wives and many of his relatives. He was 81 in 1790 when he answered a letter from Ruth Dalton Deblois, his granddaughter. The joy of reading the good news of her health and welfare cheered the old man who answered her letter immediately. “I gave up all hopes of ever seeing you anymore in this World—but #atter myself I might hear from you according to your promise.—I am sorry you had the least Idea of presumption as to restrain your pen, when I #atter myself you must be fully convinced what a pleasure it always gave me to hear of the health of all the dear branches of my family. . . . But as you Justly observe we have been and still are 300 miles distant from each other.” Hooper died shortly thereafter.6
Distance for Ruth and her grandfather was almost as difficult to endure as death. His genuine joy in hearing from her undoubtedly re#ects well on the regard for women in the Hooper family. Distance in the case of Jane Gayer and her son, William, was also not easily bridged. Her letter to him from Plymouth, England, probably was received in Nantucket months later.
Sonn my dearest love to you and your wife and to my grandchildren, hoping that these few lines will find you in good health—as through mercy I Injoy [health] att this present writings. I have sent you two letters by Mr. Blag of New York; and I have sent you several letters by other means by [which] I never Received none from you since the 1st of October 1692. . . . I shall feel like a fule [fool] to duball [double] my Request to you that I might hear from you and that I might know how to direct my letters to you, for I do fear that they do not come to your hand. Your brother Hooper and his wife and your sister Marcy desires to be remembered to you and yours, your Unkol and Aunt Lamb doth the same.
The box of family letters contained no others from Jane Gayor to her son in Nantucket, but members of the family wrote each other from distant places. William corresponded with his daughter, Damaris Coffin, who lived in Charlestown, and expressed sentiments that he might well have sent his Mother in England:
Daughter Damaris:
These [words] may serve to inform you that we are all well. . . . Mr. ffolger came from Boston yesterday and informs me that Mr. John Sowter’s brother came from England lately, and sayeth he spoke with your brother William Gayer in the East Indies Eighteen months since. . . . I wish you would speak with him (& inquire what you can about him). I hope you will let me hear from you as often as you have the opportunity, for I take great Delight to hear of your welfare, [and] so with my love to yourself and children, with all other friends, I remain your ffather.7
These friendly sentiments from family members living at a distance or on trading voyages around the world reveal much kindness for each other. In the private collections of correspondence were several wills, and expressions of love for family members were obvious in the bequests. Wives of husbands who wrote the wills seemed to be generally loved for their sacrifices and accomplishments. Similar sentiments were frequently found in the wills of legislators. The wife is entrusted with the entire estate, or a son was instructed to be kind to mother by supplying food, firewood, a horse and carriage, and a sunny room in the homestead. An orchard was hers for life, sometimes the black servant, and more often an assortment of the family treasures—silver, furniture, and books.8 Many husbands limited the wife’s bequest to her widowhood. Legally she had some property that she brought to the marriage and generally by agreement she could retrieve if her husband died. Because much depended on goodwill, common sense, and community pressure, the wife could easily have feared the husband’s conduct. The husband was the master of the household, but only rarely did any marital difficulties get into print. The excessive demand for sex, however, must have disturbed many women, especially those who had already had five or more pregnancies. They were frankly dependent on their husbands by law and custom. Even brutality such as beating and kicking occurred without much judicial control until after the American Revolution.9
Many, many wives had no formal education. Even when they could read and sign their names, they were reluctant to undertake legal responsibilities. They turned over the management of an estate to a son or son-in-law and surrounded themselves with family if they went into court to assert a right. Most women, notwithstanding, managed the homestead when their husbands were away on business—on the juries, in the legislature, and in the capital. They were, like Abigail Adams, often exceptionally talented managers. Direction of the farm was likely the daily dinner conversation of most households, so talented wives could easily step into situations learned from father, husband, and neighbors. Extended family, grown sons, and hired labor could also be called on to help a widow manage the farm.
As her husband’s left arm, the wife was needed at home. Her presence in Boston with her husband during legislative sessions was nearly impossible unless family members could assume the burden of managing the homestead. Most New Englanders had very little hired labor and almost no black slaves as field workers; some sons were available in large families. Wives found themselves tied to the home and land despite wealth and a talented husband—and their own abilities.
If the wife was the jewel of the household, how did men locate these perfect mates? The first wife seems to come from the local community, from the next town, or from family members—a second or third cousin. Later wives often provide a mystery regarding their selection. Some widows gravitated to county seats like Taunton, Salem, and Worcester where they had family, and possibly to Boston. Because of the prevalence of similar names like Smith, it is often now difficult to trace a widow’s former home. The news of mutual need for mates possibly passed through the hands of the clergy, the jurymen who went to county seats, or the legislators who provided many services for their constituents. Widows and widowers found partners, nonetheless, but the field of search was often large and maybe the selection occurred by chance.
Too often marriages included cousins or a late brother’s wife, and stepchildren of one’s parents by a second spouse. In such cases, a marriage broker was probably at work or the close contact of family reunions brought the potential mates together. Certainly Cape Cod families were known for marriages of cousins, but the practice was prevalent all over New England. Some marital searches may have been limited to the family, and in a few cases, young people were “engaged” from their youth. Some women were wed well under 19, and men near the age of 20. In most of these cases, children arrived early.
Although the society favored early marriages, some men were married late in life to women who were too old to bear more than a child or two. Some women chose to remain widows rather than risk the birth of more children. In a few cases, these later marriages apparently occurred to ensure a place to live in midlife. Companionship, security, and service are suspected motives for these marriages.
Massachusetts was undoubtedly dominated by men, but that domination may at times be a mirage rather than a reality.10 In the letters of Abigail and John Adams, Abigail emerges with a strong personality, a woman who stood her ground with her husband on political issues and who received from her husband delightfully written newsworthy letters, often laced with philosophy and history. Abigail was certainly not the only woman of such interests and temperament. When James Warren saw her in April 1777, he was thinking of Jethro Tull, the English agriculturist, and wrote John Adams these lines on Abigail:
I hope the [General] Court will rise this week and give me a little respite,
and time to study Tull but after all our Study, I don’t know but Mrs. Adams’ Native Genius will Excel us all in Husbandry. She was much Engaged when I came along, and the farm at Braintree Appeared to be under Excellent management. I tryed to persuade her to make a Visit to her Friend Mrs. Warren but she can’t leave home this Busy Season .11
In the relations of Dorothy and John Hancock, Dorothy does not appear so sharply focused as is Abigail, but she was a wisp of fresh air for John. Professor William Fowler describes her impact on her husband. The Hancocks had summer homes on the shore of Jamaica Pond and at Point Shirley in the harbor, and Dolly liked both places as an escape from the summer heat.
Whenever she went, Dolly took Johnny, her father, and some of the servants, leaving [John] Hancock to rattle around in an empty mansion. . . . Dolly’s absence put a crimp in the social life on the hill. Whenever she was gone Hancock did little formal entertaining at home and preferred instead to go out with friends.12
Other spirited women appear in Samuel Sewall’s Diary. Sewall lost his wives through death and sought replacements. As a distinguished, powerful man, he believed he could wave his finger at a widow and she would rush to his side. His experience with Mrs. Katherine Winthrop was thus bewildering and embarrassing. Sadly he describes in the Diary how he was refused.13
Sewall had lost his second wife in 1720 after a relatively short marriage and had some incorrect impressions of his marriageable position. His first marriage to Hannah Hull (1658-1717) endured for 40 years (1677-1717) and was blessed with 14 children. Theirs was a happy marriage if a bit restrained by custom and personalities. In the early years of marriage, they once went to Dorchester “chie#y to ride and take the Air: the Time my wife and Mrs. Flint spend in the Orchard, I spent in Mr. [Josiah] Flint’s study, reading Calvin on the Psalms.” When Sewall journeyed to England in 1688, he thought not only of his wife in the daytime, but dreamed of her at night. He bought home gifts for her and hoped to return safely, but he took the precaution of seeking God’s favor and writing a will that placed her in charge of the estate if he died. He seemed a kind husband and even relinquished voluntary control of household finances because of her better talents of management.
His family was often in his thoughts as he journeyed from Boston on business. In 1690, he left a Diary note: “found my family all well. . . . I have had great heaviness on my Spirit before, and in this journey, and I resolved that if it pleas’d God to bring me to my family again, I would endeavour to serve Him better in Self-denial.” His wife was then pregnant and would in August 1690 bear their ninth child, Judith, who would die a month later. Another Judith, in 1702, would be their fourteenth and last child. Her birth was difficult, and he and Hannah decided to “leave off bearing.” His Diary notes are instructive:
This is the Thirteenth Child that I have offered up to God in Baptisme;
my wife having born me Seven Sons and Seven Daughters. I have named
this little Daughter Judith, in Rememberance of her honoured and beloved Grandmother Mrs. Judith Hull. And it may be [that] my dear wife [and I] leave off bearing.
Immediately after the birth, Samuel bought a wicker cradle for their daughter, and after several weeks of recuperation his wife treated the midwives and nurses to a “good dinner” of boiled pork, beef, fowl, turkey pie, and tarts. “Madam Usher carv’d.”
His pleasure at the celebration of Hannah’s recovery was unmistakable and he rejoiced in Judith’s survival. On the very next diary entry he recorded harsh news from Salem: “We hear that Mrs. Sam. Brown of Salem is dead, and the first child she had. She earnestly desired a child, having been a pretty while married.” Judith would grow up to marry William Cooper, but she died suddenly in 1740 at age 38 after bearing seven children, and her husband, William, died like his wife prematurely in 1743. He had married a second time shortly before his death.
Sewall’s wife Hannah lived to see most of their living children married, but became fragile and died possibly of pneumonia in October 1717. Samuel was deeply affected and gave his late wife’s wedding ring to his daughter. “Then [I] went up to my daughter, and gave her my wive’s Wedding Ring, saying I hoped she would wear it with the same Nobility as she did who was the first owner of it.” He felt lonely in the months after Hannah’s death and debated whether he could ever remarry. But he liked several of the town’s widows, especially Katherine Winthrop, and sent her books and other gifts. Her relatives and friends urged him to marry her, but Sewall had second thoughts.
In a short time, he chose Abigail Tilley instead, who was only recently widowed by the death of her second husband in November. Their courtship was relatively short, and they married in October 1719. His expectations of a long and happy marriage were great. But the very first night after their marriage ceremony, Abigail became seriously ill. Her health was uncertain from that night to her sudden death six months later. The shock of her passing unsettled him greatly, but not so much as the loss of his first wife. He recovered sufficiently to look over the widow’s bench at the meeting house and to ask cautiously Mrs. Katherine Winthrop if she might consent to be his third wife. Their courtship was apparently reluctant from the first. She seemed plainly not interested by revealing much apathy, refusing his gift of almonds, and permitting him to await her return home when she was away visiting. Sewall was persistent, nonetheless, and visited and wrote her several times.
On October 10th [1720]:
In the Evening I visited Madam Winthrop, who treated me with a great deal of courtesy, wine, marmalade.
On October 11th:
I writ a few lines to Madam Winthrop to this purpose: “Madam, These wait on you with Mr. Mayhew’s Sermon, and Account of the state of the Indians on Martha’s Vineyard. I thank you for your Unmerited Favours of yesterday, and hope to have the Happiness of Waiting on you tomorrow before Eight o’clock [in the] after Noon. I pray God to keep you, and give you a Joyful entrance upon the Two Hundred and twenty ninth year of Christopher Columbus his Discovery; and take Leave, who am Madam, your humble servt.”
On October 12th:
Mrs. Anne Cotton came to the door (twas before 8), said Madam Winthrop was within, directed me into a little Room, where she was full of work behind a Stand; Mrs. Cotton came in and stood. Madam Winthrop pointed to her to set me in a Chair. . . . I got my Chair in place, had some Converse, but [it was] very Cold and indifferent to what `twas before. . . . I told her that I had one petition to ask of her, that was, that she would take off the Negative she laid on me on the third of October. She readily answer’d she could not, and enlarg’d upon it; She told me of it so soon as she could; could not leave her house, children, neighbours, business. I told her she might do some good to help and support me.
Sometime later Sewall looked kindly upon Mary Shrimpton Gibbs (1667- 1746), widow of Samuel Gibbs who died in 1702, and mother of five children. Sewall had known Samuel Gibbs as a selectman of Boston and other members of the family. She was not his first choice for a wife over the years, but apparently his rejection by Katherine Winthrop helped him clarify his expectations. Mary’s son Henry was contacted in Boston, and he informed his mother of Sewall’s feelings. Letters then passed between Mary and Samuel, but soon he was negotiating a business agreement with her through Henry who agreed to bring his mother from Newton to consummate the marriage. They were finally married on March 29, 1722, in a ceremony conducted by Judith’s husband, William Cooper, and blessed by John Cotton, minister of Newton and son-in-law of Mary Gibbs. At age 70 Sewall gained a new group of relatives, the Olivers, Shrimptons, and Cottons, and he and his wife engaged in a new social life with their much enlarged number of relatives: “My wife and I, Madam Noyes and Willoughby, dine at my son’s.” “Our unkle Oliver invites us to a noble supper.” “I visited Mr. [Joseph] Belcher of Dedham and Madam Belcher; invited them to dinner, but neither could come. My wife sent them a taste of her Dinner.”
Samuel Sewall was a great in#uence on Boston for nearly 40 years, serving on the Council longer than any other man. His generous conduct as host for thousands of people made him known to most townspeople of Boston. His search for new wives and finding a good one was undoubtedly essential to his career if he were to conduct the social life he had begun under Hannah. He enjoyed dinners, conversations, and ceremonies, and with Mary he continued to be gratified. Mary survived the judge by 16 years, but their nearly eight years together gave the old gentleman much happiness.
When he traveled to Europe in 1688, he did not take Hannah, his first wife, with him because of their large family. His colleagues went back and forth across the Atlantic without their wives. When William and Frances Shirley came to America in 1731, however, they brought most of their young family with them because William was taking a position that he expected would keep him in Boston for five years. When William’s career would benefit if Frances were his agent in London, she left her young family, undertook the hazardous voyage, and remained in London until William was successfully awarded the governorship of Massachusetts in 1741.14
As the daughter and heir of a London merchant, Frances could write, speak with people, possibly charm them, and represent her husband’s interest. She was not visible during William’s early years as governor, but she accompanied him in 1745 to Louisbourg on Cape Breton Island to congratulate the New England troops on their victory over France. Later she returned to Boston with William, but did not appear at the welcoming festivities because she considered it inappropriate. But later she must have presided over the traditional round of dinners and ceremonies at Province House and given her impressions of Cape Breton.
The Shirleys planned, probably in 1745, to build a great house in Roxbury for entertaining. Unfortunately before the house was finished, Frances died suddenly. The governor, nonetheless, wanted to complete the plans. He landscaped the grounds, bought furniture, and asked his daughter and son-in-law, the Eliakim Hutchinsons, to live as his hosts in the mansion. In 1753, he boldly brought over a French wife he had married in Paris to be the lady of the mansion, which triggered a few remarks of shocked surprise from Bostonians. His second wife faded into his very private personal life, as he conducted some rather brilliant negotiations for his daughters’ husbands. Some of the most eligible young men were caught up in his strategy. Such families as the Hutchinsons, Temples, and Ervings joined his own in these marriages, probably not so much in any sentimental union of love as in patronage alliances that strengthened business and political ties. Eliakim Hutchison served on the Council as did John Erving, Sr. (father of Shirley’s son-in-law). The other sons-in-law had less prestigious posts in government, but they all were well treated by their father-in-law.15
Arranged marriages were very much part of eighteenth-century life all over America. Massachusetts families such as the Olivers, Hutchinsons, and Otises formed many marriage alliances. Women were no less often paired off by their families than men were. In a society that permitted male dominance, men may have had the legal advantages, but the alliances undoubtedly protected the women. The mothers and fathers of engaged couples knew each other, and their friends were well acquainted. On certain levels, New England townspeople were on speaking terms with each other about the welfare of theirchildren,andpotential in-laws were considered long before alliances were ever contracted.
Wanting the best husband for his daughter Judith, Samuel Sewall first focused on William Cooper when the young man graduated during the Harvard commencement of July 1712.16 A relative of Lieutenant Governor William Tailer, through his mother Mehitable Minot Cooper, William became a joint minister at the Brattle Street Church. His lectures and sermons were attractive, and he seemed to be on the outer edges of the official circle in which Samuel Sewall revolved. When Cooper was first aware of Judith cannot be ascertained by the Diary, but Sewall had rejected at least one suitor shortly before Cooper felt inclined to make known his desire for Judith’s hand. Former Governor Dudley’s son William was anxious to marry her, and the former governor even personally pressed his son’s interest. But Sewall already had a Dudley in the family and did not want another. Seeing such contenders waved away, young Cooper rushed forward with the help of Sewall’s nephew, Samuel, who invited both Judith and William to his home. The brokerage seems extraordinarily modern, if a little too brie#y noted by the councilor in his Diary , to be a surprise to the old gentleman:
December 1, 1719
Cousin Sam. Sewall invites Judith to go and keep his wife Company. She hath a Cold. There she meets with Mr. Cooper, where they sup. Mr. Cooper waits on her home about nine a-clock.
December 7, 1719
Mr. Cooper asks my Consent for Judith’s Company, which I freely grant him.
December 11, 1719
I and my wife visit Mr. Stoddard and his Lady; they entertain’d us very kindly. Madam Stoddard Thank’d me for the Liberty I granted her Son to wait on my daughter Judith. I return’d the Compliment and Kindness.
January 20, 1720
Mrs. Hannah Cooper [, the sister of William,] visited my daughter Judith.
Meetings of family members, gatherings at Brattle Street Church to hear William preach, and dinners occurred over several months and finally in February William met with Samuel Sewall.
February 23, 1720
Mr. Cooper comes in, and sits with me, and asks that he may be published; Next Thursday was talk’d of; at last, the first Thursday in March was consented to.
The actual wedding occurred in the evening of May 12. Sewall joined the couple in marriage and congratulated himself on how a naturally perfect marriage was accomplished without much arranging.
I said to Mr. Simeon Stoddard and his wife, Sir, Madam, the great Honour you have conferr’d on the Bridegroom and the Bride, by being present at the Solemnity, does very Conveniently supersede any further enquiry after your Consent. And the part I am desired to take in this wedding, renders the way of my giving my Consent very Compendious: There’s no manner of room for that previous Question, Who giveth this Woman to be married to this Man? Dear Child, you give me your Hand for one moment, and the Bridegroom forever. Spouse, You [do] Accept and receive this Woman now given you.
The Coopers moved into their own residence on Sudbury Street in October, when their order for household furnishings arrived from London. In the next 12 years, they had seven children; the first, William, in 1721, and there followed children about every two years until 1732. Three died as infants, but William, Jr. (1721-1809), like his distinguished brother Samuel (1725-1783), became patriots of the American Revolution.17
Documents for most other marriages are not so full as those that chart the romance of the Coopers. His attractive personality, family, and friends obviously made him a potential son-in-law, but Judith was her father’s joy. Her in#uence with him undoubtedly helped make the marriage possible.
The wives of the legislators remained obscure. Only a few appear outside of the veil that seemed to hide personal life and indicate society’s treatment of women. Those who appear more or less clearly are vigorous individuals who challenged any assumption that women were not ready to play an equal part in the management of the household. Some of these women joined their husbands in Boston and became a social force in the capital during legislative sessions.
NOTES
1. The hardship of travel from distant towns limited attendance of many representatives. Wives would not be expected to endure equal hardships when there was no legal obligation. The Adams quotation is taken from Mary Beth Norton, Liberty’s Daughters (Boston, 1980), 171.
2. Robert Hooper had four wives. His first wife died at age 22. When he became representative in 1755, he was long married to his second wife. Two other wives followed after age 53. See Charles H. Pope and Thomas Hooper, Hooper Genealogy (Boston, 1908), 107-110.
3. The Sewall family difficulties are evident in Samuel Sewall’s many notes in the Diary. But the editor summarizes the dispute. See M. Halsey Thomas, The Diary of Samuel Sewall , 2 vols. (New York, 1973); 2: 705-706.
4. Sibley’s Harvard Graduates , 10: 318-320. Sewall was apparently accepted into society as a legitimate grandson of a distinguished councilor. He held most town offices in Brookline and was appointed justice of the peace by the governor.
5. As an example of representatives without children, I took the letter “H.” There were approximately 250 legislators; only 13 were unmarried or married and childless: John Hale, Joseph Hammond, Thomas Hancock, Ebenezer Harnden, Joseph Haywood, Joseph Henshaw, Henry Higginson, Henry Hill, John Holyoke, Francis Hooke, Jeremiah Howes, John Howes, and Elijah Hunt. A few more might be added if the data were complete.
6. Robert Hooper to Ruth Dalton Deblois, Mar. 17, 1790, in Hooper Genealogy ,
op. cit., 108-109.
7. William C. Folger, “The Gayer Family,” The New England Historical and Genealogical Register, 31 (July 1877): 298-301. (Hereafter cited as NEHGR )
8. John J. Waters looked at wills in Barnstable County in the 17th century. In his selection of wills, he found an amazing 37 percent of the husbands gave full control of their homesteads to their wives. See his “The Traditional World of the New England Peasants,” NEHGR , 130 (January 1976): 7.
9. Divorce was adjudicated by the governor and Council in Massachusetts. In colonial times, there was almost always a petition before the Governor and Council. About 229 petitions were filed between 1692-1786. See Nancy F. Cott, “Divorce and the Changing Status of Women in Eighteenth Century Massachusetts,” The William and Mary Quarterly , 32 (October 1976): 586-587.
10. In North Haven, Connecticut, there lived in mid-century a most independent woman whose diary and life reveal a forceful personality. See Barbara E. Lacey, “The World of Hannah Heaton,” The William and Mary Quarterly , 45 (April 1988): 280-304.
11. James Warren to John Adams, Apr. 27, 1777, in Papers of John Adams , eds. Robert J. Taylor et al. (Cambridge, Mass., 1983), 5: 165.
12. William M. Fowler, The Baron of Beacon Hill: A Biography of John Hancock (Boston, 1980), 253-254.
13. All the following material on Sewall was taken from his Diary. See M. Halsey Thomas, The Diary of Samuel Sewell , 2 vols. (New York, 1973).
14. John A. Schutz, William Shirley: King’s Governor of Massachusetts (Chapel Hill, N.C., 1961), 21, 39, 108, 122.
15. Ibid., 28, 120, 92, 107, 188; Sibley’s Harvard Graduates , 8 (1951): 726-729.
16. Sibley’s Harvard Graduates , 5 (1937): 624-634. A critical appraisal of Cooper was made by Charles Chauncy: “Mr. Cooper was a good preacher, eminently gifted in prayer, and a man of good understanding; though not endowed with a great deal of learning; or an uncommon strength in any of his powers.”
17. All of the romantic story of the Coopers and Sewalls is taken from Samuel Sewall’s Diary , 2: 948 passim
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