Life of Propriety: Anne Murray Powell and Her Family, 1755-1849 9780773564657

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A Life of Propriety

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A Life of Propriety Anne Murray Powell and Her Family, 1755-1849 KATHERINE M . J . M c K E N N A

McGill-Queen's University Press Montreal & Kingston • London • Buffalo

McGill-Queen's University Press 1994 ISBN 0-7735-1175-X Legal deposit second quarter 1994 Bibliotheque nationale du Quebec Printed in Canada on acid-free paper This book has been published with the help of a grant from the Social Science Federation of Canada, using funds provided by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canda. Publication has also been supported by the Canada Council through its block grant program.

P-anaHian Cataloguing in Publication Data McKenna, Katherine Mary Jean, 1955A life of propriety: Anne Murray Powell and her family, 1755—1849 Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-7735- H75-X i. Powell, Anne Murray, 1755-1849. 2. Powell family. 3. Toronto (Ont.) - Biography. I. Title. FC3097.26.P69M34 1994 97i.3'54io2'o92 094-900184-8 F1059.5.T6853P691994

To my parents Jean MacLeod McKenna and]. Edward McKenna

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Contents

Acknowledgments ix Illustrations xi Prologue 3 Introduction 8 PART ONE LEARNING AND L I V I N G THE LESSONS OF PROPRIETY 21

1

Early Years at Boston 23

2

The Founding of a Family, 1775-1800 39

3

Establishing Social Status: Anne Powell and York Society 61 PART TWO THE INTERSECTIONS OF MALE AND FEMALE G E N D E R ROLES 89

4

Married Life: Anne and William 91

5

Brothers: George and John 113

6

Sons 128

viii Contents PART THREE

THE TRANSMISSION OF FEMALE

G E N D E R ROLES 153

7

Education 155

8

Marriage and Childbirth 172

9

The Limitations of "Woman's Sphere" 190 I Wife and Mother: Mary Boyles Powell Jarvis 192 II "Unnatural Daughter": Anne Murray Powell 206 III Spinster: Elizabeth Powell 229 PART FOUR CONCLUSION 241

10

"A Solitary Tree Shorn of Its Branches": Old Age 243 Notes 261 Bibliography 309 Index 323

Acknowledgments

This book began its life as a doctoral dissertation. Over the many years it has taken to develop it from a tentative research paper to a work suitable for publication, I have incurred many debts. The first and most important of these is to my supervisor, Professor George A. Rawlyk. His support of and respect for my interest in women's history when the field was still considered a novelty by many was very important to me. He allowed me to travel along in my own idiosyncratic winding way, yet always brought me back to the straight and narrow in his insistence on high standards of careful research placed on a solid footing of historiography. Others have also provided valued support. Sylvia Van Kirk spoke words of encouragement at an early stage which gave me the resolution to carry on, and she has since provided me with a thoughtful commentary on the manuscript. Roberta Hamilton, Mary Morton, and Christine Overall will never know how much I welcomed seeing their smiling faces at the back of the room at my first presentation of part of this book at the Canadian Historical Association Annual Meeting. Roberta Hamilton has also, along with Joy Parr, Margaret Conrad, Jane Errington, Edith Firth, Deborah Gorham, Klaus Hansen, Keith Johnson, Bryan Palmer, and Alison Prentice, read and commented on this work at various stages of its development. Their input has improved the final product immeasurably. Billie Stewart, married to a descendant of Anne Murray Powell, was most generous in her sharing of source material. Mr Warren Baker was kind enough to allow me to view and photograph many items from his private

x Acknowledgments

collection for inclusion as illustrations in this book. To my delight and amazement, he also presented me with one of the anniversary medals of Anne Murray and William Dummer Powell, a treasure that I prize greatly. Judy Williams and Mary Kay Maudsley did a terrific job of editing my tangled prose and correcting many embarrassing errors. George Innes made a number of excellent photographs for inclusion as illustrations. Phil Dunning, drawing upon his considerable expertise with eighteenth-century artifacts, helped me to date the miniature of Anne Murray Powell. Without Ted and Sheila Sharp's warm hospitality, I would not have been able to spend the necessary months in Toronto for research. And, of course, I owe a great debt of appreciation to the many individuals who assisted me with my work at the Public Archives of Ontario, the Baldwin Room of the Metropolitan Toronto Public Library, the Massachusetts Historical Society, the National Archives of Canada, and the New York Historical Society. Finally, I would like to note that my husband Paul Debenham had a great role in enabling me to complete, first, my dissertation, and now this book. Large portions of it were originally typed by him under the pressure of thesis deadlines. His support and encouragement have been unfailing, from accompanying me on trips to archives and academic conferences to, latterly, assuming the care of our infant son, Evan, so that I could prepare the final manuscript. He did all this on condition that I would never embarrass him by thanking him in print, so of course, in keeping with his wishes, I will not.

Miniature of Anne Murray Powell 0.1775 Courtesy of Mr Warren Baker Photographed by Mr George Innes

Portrait of Anne Murray Powell by Gilbert, 1834 from Riddell, Life of William Dummer Powell Photographed by Mr George Innes

Portrait of William Dummer Powell by Gilbert, 1834 from Riddell, Life of William Dummer Powett Photographed by Mr George Innes

Golden Anniversary Medal of Anne Murray and William Dummer Powell Courtesy of Mr Warren Baker Photographed by Mr George Innes

Miniature of Dr John Murray Courtesy of Mr Warren Baker Photographed by Mr George Innes

Photograph of Miniature of George William Murray Collection of the New-York Historical Society

Portrait of Dr John Murray from Tiffany, Letters of James Murray, Loyalist

Photographed by Mr George Innes

Portrait of Mrs Dr John Murray (Mary Boyles Murray) From painting by Samuel Lane Collection of the New-York Historical Society

Mrs James Smith (Elizabeth Murray Smith Inman), 1769 by John Singleton Copley Gift of Joseph W.R. and Mary C. Rogers Courtesy, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Powell Home on York Street east side, north of Front Street West, York, Upper Canada Metropolitan Toronto Reference Library J. Ross Robertson Collection: 1*11439

Anne Powell's brooch, presented to her father with accompanying note Courtesy of Mr Warren Baker Photographed by Mr George Innes

View of Detroit. Watercolour on silk by Anne "Nancy" Powell Courtesy of the Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto, Canada

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A Life of Propriety

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Prologue

The year was 1774. In his cramped study, surrounded by the constant bustle of a busy household with ten children, a Norwich physician took pen in hand to write to his eldest son, who was just about to turn eighteen. How to mark such an important milestone? For this son was not merely away at school or seeking his fortune elsewhere in England - he was thousands of miles away in Boston, Massachusetts, apprenticed in business under the watchful eye of his paternal aunt and uncle. If a gift was sent, it had to be significant, and if a letter was to be written, it would have to carry all the weight of a father's advice. Since Dr John Murray could not be at his son John's side to tell or show him all that he knew, he earnestly set about writing a letter that would give his almost adult boy everything important that he needed to know about what it was to be a man of the middling professional class of the late eighteenth century. And conversely, in telling young John what it was to be a man, Dr Murray also made it clear what it was to be a woman of that same class and time. In the end, Dr Murray decided on a time-honoured gift for his son - a complete works of Shakespeare. This had not been the first thing that he had considered giving to John, however. In 1774, another concerned father's correspondence to his son had become world-famous, sparking controversy from the moment it hit print.1 This father was no middle-class doctor, but the great Lord Chesterfield himself, a wealthy and famous aristocrat. His Letters to His Son appeared at first to be an ideal sort of gift for Dr Murray to give to

4 A Life of Propriety

John. Quite sensibly, however, he "thought right to peruse it first."8 What he read did not impress him favourably. "The beginning was pleasing and instructive," he conceded, but "the middle wicked and detestable, and the conclusion, had it not been for the purity of the language, and an easy agreeable style, would have been stale and tedious." On what basis did he decide on not only the dull nature of this great lord's advice but, more surprisingly, its depravity? Surely one of the leading men of his day would be casting about pearls of wisdom, not leading the male youth of the nation astray. Lord Chesterfield's intent was to turn his son, Philip Stanhope, an awkward and unsophisticated boy, into a nonchalant and polished man of the world. Philip had been sent on carefully planned travels with a tutor in tow, all controlled and monitored by his father. Although his early classical education was, in Dr Murray's opinion, "overloaded," it was accompanied by letters from his father which were "very agreeable as they abound with fine strokes of criticism on the different studies his son was engaged in." "His Lordship's" plans for Philip as he became older were not as acceptable, however. For Dr Murray and others of that time who read him, Chesterfield's advice to his son was shocking in its lack of morality, and most especially with regard to women and family life. "Having got his skinful of learning," young Philip was sent at the age of sixteen to Italy, Dr Murray related: Now his Lordship who has laboured to make his son lively and de bonnair, lays on him thicker and faster to sacrifice to the Graces, as he calls it, insists upon his devoting as much time as possible to the Ladies, not only to improve his Italian, from such agreeable teachers, but to become an amoroso. ... The time allotted for our pupil's residence in Italy being expired, we find him in Paris at 18, your age Jack! Here his father thinking him old enough to guide himself under his Lordship's own occasional directions, dismisses his tutor and turns him loose upon a town; with free command of money, where every Vice imaginable may be said to be fashionable. ... Now how is he treated at his first setting out? He is not only advised but, as it were ordered to be gay and gallant, to indulge a passion for the sex whether he had or not. ... But with whom? Girls of the town or demireps? No, they are not recommended. ... With whom then? Why no other and no less than married women, and one of those in particular, of the most distinguished virtue, and enjoying the highest conjugal happiness.

This advice hit too close to all that Dr Murray held most dear. To indulge oneself with a woman who was considered beyond redemption was bad enough, but to violate the sanctity of marriage,

5 Prologue

even if outward appearances were preserved, was unthinkable. "How do you feel Jack?" he wrote indignantly. "What would you think of, what would you do to that Villian who should dare to make an attempt upon your Mother's Honour? Infamous wretch! Not only to secure eternal remorse to this only son, but to destroy the peace of a worthy, innocent and happy family. Could I suppose you capable of such impiety, Oh my Sonl I should execrate the day of your birth, and carry down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. Yet it appears that Ld. C. at the time he gave this ignoble advice was older than I am now. Infamous pander I" How could the great Lord Chesterfield be so far removed from the moral views of Dr Murray and others of his day? The answer is that he was a man of the past. Drawing upon a tradition of aristocratic politesse, he was unwittingly to become the last in a long line of courtesy writers, advising their predominantly male readership about how to behave at court.3 By Chesterfield's time, this genre had degenerated to a stress on form rather than content, of public respectability rather than inner moral virtue. His cynical moral relativism, typical of a decadent aristocratic class, was anathema to the middle classes of Britain. As they began their power struggle to wrest hegemony from their so-called "betters," they staked out a new moral high ground from which to look down on men like Chesterfield.4 His life had been a model of aristocratic immorality, according to Dr Murray. Young Philip Stanhope was in fact an illegitimate, or "natural," son. "His mother was a Dutch Lady whom his Lordship seduced in Holland, brought over to England, and deserted ... to marry a niece of the Duchess of Kendall, King G. ists Mistress." Inner moral decay was accompanied by its outward physical display. "It appears also that the father had a dropsical complaint, about the time this boy was born, and at best was no gracious figure, but greatly improved by art. From all this it naturally followed that the produce of this Amour was grave, serious, unhealthy and had a very ungracious aspect." In contrast to this blueblood degeneracy, Dr Murray described his own sturdy moral legacy to his offspring. "With regard to your intercourse with the world ..." he told John, "I insist it is better to be virtuously singular than viciously fashionable. Had I when your age or for some years after indulged that fashionable gallantry, that my compeers gave way to, like most of them I had died before I was fully ripe, or been at this a childless, worn out man. I might have grown rich and bribed some Girl to be my wife or nurse, teased her and fretted myself, either have had no children or a few foolish, puny, sickly half existing animals, requiring more nursing than they were worth.

6 A Life of Propriety Are my children sick? Answer for yourself my Son." Dr Murray was not surprised that Philip Stanhope was neither brilliant nor healthy and died at thirty-six, outlived by his father. But this worldly punishment was not all that would follow. After death, he asked, "how will this Father meet the spirit of this injured son? His fine wit, his satirical turn, his Gibes and Jokes will naught avail, and unless his sincere repentance added to mediatorial influence has obliterated his crime, eternal punishment must prove it unexpiated." Such was the likely fate of the "noble delinquent" whose precepts were "so opposite to reason, virtue and religion." It is an ironic footnote that Chesterfield's son did not become a man of aristocratic sophistication like his father. In fact, he rebelled against the earl's moral cynicism by adopting a virtuous middleclass domestic life-style. He preferred the new family ideal to the older model of aristocratic gallantry advocated by his father. The powerful lord did not learn about his son's secret marriage to Eugenia Peters, a plain, respectable, and common young woman, or come to know their two sons, until after Philip's death. Eugenia Stanhope was to exact an even more telling revenge on Chesterfield. Not only did she publish, after the earl's death and without his permission, the controversial letters he had written to her husband, but also she was later to write a paean to middle-class domesticity. In perhaps unconscious parody of her father-in-law, she presented it in the form of letters, but written by an older woman to a newlywed young female relation. The Deportment of a Married Life, published in 1790, was part of a new tradition of advice literature, called the Conduct Book, that began in mid-eighteenth century England.5 These books were largely directed at middleclass women rather than men aspiring to the aristocracy. Instead of recommending only an outward correctness, they encouraged an inward sense of proper behaviour as well. Virtue came from within, and propriety was its outward display. The contrast between such enormously popular books as Eugenia Stanhope's and the Earl of Chesterfield's Letters shows us that even in that one short generation dramatic ideological changes took place in attitudes toward gender roles, family life, and sexual behaviour. Dr Murray's discussion of Chesterfield fuelled as it is by righteous indignation, is the most spirited part of his long letter to his son. "I could not refrain from delineating it, in order to contrast it with those [precepts] I am about to give," he explained, "and [with] that example I have exhibited and with the divine assistance hope I shall ever exhibit to my family." Although he acknowledged that "It would be an affront to your understanding to be minute, nor do I

7 Prologue

have leisure to be prolix on this occasion ... I shall endeavour to give such hints as may be useful." He advised moderation, prudence, and religion, presumably of the Church of England sort, since that was his own denomination. The duty of a man consisted in the protection, not the despoilment, of the virtue of women. As an example he told the story of "a remarkable instance" that had occurred when the "very pretty" and "celebrated" Mrs Hartley met with some craven aristocratic youths at Vauxhall and was "rudely insulted by three or four Macaronies, of which the present Lord Littleton was one." Even her husband did not rise to her defence, but a virtuous clergyman present, "finding that none of the Company cared to defend her, opposed himself to their resentment by a very spirited conduct, which not only rescued the lady, but exposed them to the contempt and ridicule of the whole Kingdom - as the affair was made public, much to the Honour of the Heroic Minister." In contrast to the dissolute "Macaronies" and Lord Chesterfield's urgings to fashionable gallantry, Dr Murray advised his son to meet young women in the safe confines of the home. "If you are not otherwise engaged," he told John, "will you give me leave to introduce you to tea in a respectable genteel private family, where there are some agreeable young ladies under the eye of a Prudent Mother and Grandmother, who receives her welcome guests with a graceful ease, and frowns not when her children enter into familiar conversation with their friends." There, within the family circle, Dr Murray was confident, his son would meet the right sort of women, ones who would have been brought up with virtue and propriety. Although John was to pursue his fortune in the wide world, he was to seek a wife at home. For it was in the domestic sphere, not in the gaiety of fashionable social life, that middle-class women of real worth were to be found. On that note, Dr Murray completed his letter, satisfied that he had conveyed to his son some of the most important values that would carry him forward in life.

Introduction

John was not the only child of Dr John Murray and his wife, Mary Boyles, to emigrate to North America. Several of their large family of thirteen children ended up in the New World, and among them was a daughter, Anne. Although no instructive letter similar to the one her father sent to John survives to Anne from either of her parents, in other respects her life is remarkably well documented. Her and her family's papers are scattered among archives in Ottawa, Toronto, Boston, New York, and Washington. At the Metropolitan Toronto Library alone, there are upwards of 2,500 pages of Anne's letters written over a span of fifty years. Source material this extensive allows the historian to reconstruct a life with a kind of depth and complexity rarely found. What is also fascinating about these documents is the insight that they can give us into a life lived within a broad North Atlantic context in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. And because they are written by a woman from a middle-class British Anglican background, they can tell us much about women's lives, gender roles, and class attitudes from that perspective. Anne Murray was born in England in 1755 and emigrated to Boston, Massachusetts in 1771 at the age of sixteen. Under the care of her paternal aunt, Elizabeth, she and her sister Mary were for a time employed as milliners and shopkeepers. With the beginning of the American Revolution and the Blockade of Boston in 1775, this life came to an abrupt end. These dramatic events also had the effect of accelerating the romance which had developed between

9 Introduction Anne and a young American, William Dummer Powell. He was the son of a prominent Boston merchant, his father having important contracts to provision the Royal Navy. It was not unexpected, then, that William would become a Loyalist. When it appeared prudent for him to leave Boston to seek refuge in England, Anne and he were forced either to wed or to part. Marry they did, and in October of 1775, they set sail for Britain, where he had been educated and which was her homeland. Anne and William were soon to return to North America. In 1780, after William had spent the intervening years in England studying law and Anne had given birth to three sons, they settled in the British colony of Quebec. William's Loyalism did not prevent them from attempting to reestablish themselves in New England following the end of hostilities in 1784. Evidently he was not happy with the French legal system of Quebec. When their plans to resettle in the United States did not work out, Anne and William returned to Montreal in 1785. Soon new opportunities presented themselves with the formation of the province of Upper Canada. After living at Detroit and Niagara, the Powells settled in York, present-day Toronto, in 1798. Altogether Anne was to give birth to nine children, one of whom died in infancy. William was first appointed to the Bench in 1789, was a member of the governing Executive Council of Upper Canada from 1808 to 1825, and crowned his career with the attaining of the chief justiceship of Upper Canada in 1816. With the exception of a short-lived attempt to retire in England, Anne and William were to remain at York for the rest of their lives. Anne died there at the age of ninety-three in 1849. Anne Murray Powell's life, then, intersects with the societies of three distinct locations: Canada, New England, and Britain. In following her as she moved from place to place, we can make comparisons, draw contrasts, and note similarities within a North Atlantic context. This kind of comparative study of social values is rare, and almost unknown in women's history.1 Anne Murray began her life in a mid-eighteenth-century British world that was undergoing dramatic change. Along with such factors as the growth of modern industrial capitalism, the development of a dominant and distinctive middle-class world view, and the rise of nonconforming Protestantism came a new ideology about male and female gender roles and family life. Leonore Davidoff and Catherine Hall, in their path-breaking book Family Fortunes: Men and Women of the English Middle Classes 1780-1850, document these changes admirably, although, with their post-1780 focus, they tend to connect them most closely with evangelical Protestantism." The

10 A Life of Propriety

division of the home from the workplace that came with industrialization brought a corresponding new sense of separate private and public spheres. Increasingly throughout the eighteenth century, these realms became gendered, into the female domestic world and the male public world of politics and business. In earlier eras, the idea that a woman's place was in the home would have been absurd. Everyone's place was in both the household and the marketplace, although men dominated everywhere. In an economy based on agriculture or home-based manufacture, employment distinctions according to sex were not always clearly drawn. But in a new liberal-capitalist system where land ownership was being replaced by disposable income as the standard by which wealth was measured, one way in which a middle-class man might signal his success to others was by having a wife who did not have to seek work outside of the home. But his spouse was not to imitate aristocratic ladies who enjoyed lives of self-indulgence and "dissipation." A middleclass woman was now expected to restrict her activity to the private sphere. A virtue was made out of a necessity, and motherhood and household work were elevated to the status of a sacred duty that only women could perform. Their husbands spent their days in the corrupt and competitive world of industrial capitalism, returning home at night to an angelic wife and children and the peaceful sanctuary of domestic life. Untainted by evil, a woman had the job of providing her husband and children with moral instruction and example. This idealized view of woman was clearly ambivalent, seeing her as too weak and frail to face the outside world as her husband did yet strong enough to fight its corrupting influence within her home. This whole constellation of ideas has been perhaps best described in an American context by historian Barbara Welter as "The Cult of True Womanhood."3 Beginning in the eighteenth century, True Womanhood was to reach its apex and symbolic embodiment in the reign of Queen Victoria and has been considered part of what has been described as Victorian ever since.1 Some American historians, as well as British, have documented the importance of these new values about the role of women and men in relation to each other and to family life. As early as 1976, Ann Gordon and Mari Jo Buhle observed that "comparison with the more carefully documented English events suggests that American women duplicated the work experience of English women. ... By the middle of the eighteenth century, urban middle class women styled themselves after the ladies of England and participated in the development of a distinct, class-linked femininity."5 Since then, other historians such as Ruth Bloch, Nancy Cott, Linda Kerber,

ii Introduction Mary P. Ryan, and Carroll Smith-Rosenberg have investigated the growth of an idealized domesticity in American life, with an increasingly separate woman's culture at its core.6 As Suzanne Lebsock has observed in her study of Petersburg, Virginia from 1784 to 1860, "The cult of true womanhood turns out to be a closer description of social reality than we might like."7 For the most part, however, recent American historians fail to relate this growth in the ideology of women's domestic role to the changes also taking place in England. This is primarily because of their continued preoccupation with the American Revolution as a decisive break with a "bad" colonial past. Thus the status of women after the Revolution must be seen as better than it was before. Over fifty years ago, Elizabeth Anthony Dexter first argued that the opposite was true, that the status of women, although never equal to men's, actually deteriorated after 1776.® Mary Beth Norton has labelled this view as "The Myth of the Golden Age."9 This is an exaggeration of Dexter, who never saw the colonial period in such idealized terms. Yet even Norton, with her stress on the benefits of American republicanism for women, is forced to conclude that "The legacy of the American Revolution was thus ambiguous. Republican womanhood eventually became Victorian womanhood."10 The story of young Anne Murray's experience in Boston as a milliner provides us with an example of the meeting of British and colonial New England ideas about woman's proper sphere just prior to the American Revolution. Anne had been brought up in one of the new middle-class British families that valued women's domestic role and increasingly saw their involvement in public activity as inappropriate. Anne's Aunt Elizabeth had been born in Scotland in the 17205 and had emigrated as a young person to the New World in an era during which it was not unusual for a woman of the middling classes, especially if she were single, to work in some manner for her livelihood. Her own success led her to pass on this heritage of independent activity to her nieces. For Anne, born thirty years later and brought up under the new system of domestic retirement for women, such employment was humiliating, and, in her view, lowered her class status. At that time the Cult of True Womanhood was only beginning to make its way to America from Britain. The fact that it was eventually to dominate the American cultural outlook, despite the Revolution, might lead us to question how relevant the republican rhetoric of the new United States was to the status of women in that society." If Anne was led into a position of contradiction between her upbringing and her aunt's well-intentioned plans for her employ-

12 A Life of Propriety

ment, she was to be placed in an even more ambiguous position when she moved to the wilderness of Upper Canada. Anne and William belonged in the elite political circles of that sparsely populated and isolated society. Much has been written about the early ruling group of Upper Canada, the "Family Compact," and its importation of British political ideals into the new colony.12 Yet with these ideals also came values about women's roles, family, and social life, themes to which historians have paid little attention.13 The incongruity of the wilderness setting for these values only encouraged the elite to enforce them more rigidly. It is also interesting that even in the Upper Canadian bush, the values of the aristocracy and the middle class struggled for supremacy. Anne led the forces of middle-class propriety when in 1806 she opposed LieutenantGovernor Gore over his reintroduction of Elizabeth Small, the wife of the clerk of the Executive Council, into polite company. Mrs Small had been publicly accused of immoral conduct with a man not her husband some years earlier and had consequently been shunned by York society. Her aristocratic friends in England had intervened with Gore on her behalf and he was prepared to overlook her disgrace. Anne's opposition to his attempts to reintegrate Mrs Small into society was based on her sense of moral outrage. Just as her father had condemned Lord Chesterfield's cynical flouting of propriety, so too did Anne resist Gore's moral flexibility. The fact that she won this social battle shows us that the world was indeed changing, and that even in the backwoods of Upper Canada the new middle-class values would triumph. The first section of this book, then, "Learning and Living the Lessons of Propriety," follows Anne from her childhood in England through her brief time in Boston and her years in York society up to the time of William's retirement in 1825. Anne Murray Powell's life tells us about more than changing values in a North Atlantic context. Her letters are a rich documentary source not only for her social doings but also for the more intimate details of her family life. Her relationships with William, her brothers, and her sons reveal much about married life and male-female family ties. Recently historians have moved away from speaking of gender primarily in relation to women and have recognized that male roles are equally gendered.'4 As categories defined in opposition to each other, musculinity and femininity in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries can be more clearly understood when discussed side by side. Part two, "The Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles," examines Anne's life within husband-wife, brother-sister, and mother-son relationships.

13 Introduction

This is, however, a book which is primarily about women's roles in history. Part three, "The Transmission of Female Gender Roles," investigates what it was to be brought up as a woman in insular early Upper Canadian elite society. My interpretive framework follows closely that of Carroll Smith-Rosenberg in its "women's culture" emphasis.15 The increasingly sharp divisions between the male and female spheres ensured that in many ways men and women lived in separate worlds. In the past, historians have disproportionally focused on the public world of politics and business, which has been a male domain. We need to know in corresponding depth about the private domestic world that women inhabited if we are to enlarge the picture of the past to include both genders. In their sphere, women as mothers felt a special responsibility for their female offspring. Anne was no different. The education of her daughters and granddaughters, their choice of suitable marriage partners, their safety in childbirth, and their material well-being were of great concern to her. There were very few options other than marriage open to women of their class and position in Upper Canadian society. In this they reflect what was increasingly true for all women of the middle classes in the English-speaking world. Anne's daughters represent three possible life paths for women; one a wife and mother, another a spinster who devoted her life to the care of others, and the third a woman who could not reconcile herself to her restricted role in life and paid a terrible price for her rebellion. Throughout these discussions about gendered cultural values, family relationships, and woman's sphere, we are witness to the lives of real people doing their best to reconcile the ideology of their day with the actualities of their lives. That this was an era of great social and cultural change taking place at different paces and in different contexts in the North Atlantic world was surely enough to cause uncertainty and confusion in individual lives. We all know today from our own experience, living in an equally, if not more, turbulent period of change in social standards and sex roles, how difficult it is at times to relate real life to ideology. Thus it is not surprising that the life stories of Anne Murray Powell and her family are full of contradictions. These were not only demonstrated by the clash between Anne's occupation as a milliner and her training in propriety, and by the almost absurd observation of rigid social rules in the wilderness of Upper Canada. In spite of the ideology of domesticity, Anne and other wives of the men who dominated political life clearly exerted a great deal of influence on public events. Their behaviour to each other and to men could result in devastating

14 A Life of Propriety

consequences - fatal duels, social ostracism, and political downfall. It is noteworthy that throughout Anne's struggle with LieutenantGovernor Gore over Mrs Small, not once did she mention what her husband's opinion was of her behaviour. Yet consultations went on constantly among the women of the York elite over this difficult issue of propriety. It was not that the problem did not concern William. Anne herself mentioned several times her annoyance that her behaviour was affecting Gore's attitude toward her husband. Also striking is the fact that she never comments on William's behaviour or even presence at social events, although he must have been there. Only her daughters are mentioned as accompanying her and participating in decisions about whether or not to attend. Her lack of concern for William's opinion on such matters shows that the division of public and private spheres was not always as clear-cut as the rhetoric of True Womanhood would have it.'6 Such contradictions between reality and ideology were also felt by Anne's brothers and sons as they sought with varying degrees of enthusiasm and success to live up to the confusing new ideals of masculinity. Within marriage, the doctrine of separate spheres dictated that, in theory, the husband and wife were companionate partners with different but complementary roles. He would take care of the public matters and the business end of their concerns, ensuring that she was protected and taken care of financially. She would reciprocate by running the domestic sphere so as to ensure his and their children's material comfort and spiritual well-being. In practice, such an idyllic arrangement was difficult to achieve. Anne was frequently exasperated by William's dependency on her and his failure to recognize her needs and those of her daughters. And, when in old age he became increasingly senile, Anne became the helpless victim of his growing financial incompetence. The Cult of True Womanhood did not provide a woman with a map to plot a socially acceptable route out of such a morass. Only by appealing to the protection of another man, her brother George, was Anne able somewhat to salvage the situation. On her own, she was powerless to act. Although Anne did the best she could to ensure that her daughters would not have to face the prospect of a penniless existence with no way of earning their own support, they too faced the contradictions between theory and reality. Middle-class women were not supposed to need to earn money, because they would have men to support them. But sometimes women did not fulfil their heterosexual destiny of marriage and had no male relations who were

15 Introduction

prepared to take care of them. The only suitable occupation was that of teaching, which paid poorly and required expensive education that few women were provided with. As Anne's own brother John shows, there was nothing to force a man to assume the role of protector if he did not wish to. Anne felt that John had exploited her naivety in legal matters by cheating her out of part of her rightful inheritance from her Aunt Elizabeth. This was an act that contrasted sharply with the ideal male protective role. As Anne's daughter Mary's story reveals, even within marriage life was often hard and uncertain for women rather than pampered and shielded from harsh realities. Women's lives actually consisted of a great deal of unpaid work and self-denial. Anne's eldest daughter and namesake, a woman who would not accept such a life, paid a heavy penalty of emotional stress and social rejection. The difficulty that her mother had in dealing with her distressed and angry daughter also shows some of the limitations of Smith-Rosenberg's "Female World of Love and Ritual." This intimate, caring, and supportive female sphere could make conflict taboo and become restrictive when problems arose that could not be easily resolved. What Anne Murray Powell's life and family relationships reveal, then, is that ideas are certainly born from experience and influence life, but are not always in turn compatible with its reality. In particular, during periods of transition, when value systems are shifting and standards of behaviour changing, people find it difficult at times to decide on the proper course of action. In Anne's lifetime, many of her own personal dilemmas were never to be resolved. In part four, the chronological story of her life is resumed with a discussion of her long old age following William's death. As she reflected on her past, Anne was unable to reconcile with her sense of propriety the many difficult periods of her life, among them her work as a milliner, her impatience with her husband's incompetence before his death, her brother John's betrayal, and her daughter's fall from grace. And at the end of her life we can see a final source of tension generated by the ideal of woman's domestic role. Anne's horror of dependence during her last years shows how little value was placed on or account taken of a woman who could no longer perform the domestic or maternal duties that were supposed to be her sole occupation. We might ask ourselves today how far we have advanced in our resolution of the social and personal problems that come with old age in a culture that values only the young and materially productive. And finally, although as contemporary observers we can sympathize with Anne's distress about many of

16 A Life of Propriety these confusions and contradictions in her life, we must add our insight to her own in order to provide a systemic analysis of her personal sources of anxiety and shame. This book is a biography, but it is not a typical one. To begin with, it is self-consciously feminist in its approach. For me, this means first that it is woman-centred, with the dignity and selfdetermination of the female agent always at the forefront. Although as a biographer I must make critical judgments about my subject, I explain events from her perspective as much as possible and value her thoughts and actions from within the limitations of her own world view.17 For this reason, I allow Anne to speak for herself as much as possible, with direct quotations from her correspondence to duplicate her own authentic voice and perspective. Her prose is reproduced with no spelling corrections and minimal punctuation changes. Because Anne, in idiosyncratic eighteenth-century style, rarely ended a sentence with a period, instead using semicolons, for the sake of clarity I have occasionally substituted one for the other and added capitalization. No other alterations that might change the meaning of the original have been made. But as a feminist historian, I require more than an emphasis on hearing women's words: some larger contextual vision is called for. In outlining my interpretation of the significance of Anne Murray Powell's life, I am making broader statements about the cultural values of the specific settings that she lived in, and in so doing, I am describing these as created in time and place. Although I recognize some of the constants of woman's existence, such as the biological realities surrounding reproductive function, I am placing these within a social context that is not unchanging. As with all social constructs, it had a beginning and an end, created by human beings for their own purposes. Although it had causes, it neither was inevitable nor reflected any essential truth. In this quite limited sense, my approach has affinities with poststructuralism, although I am persuaded by Kathleen Barry when she points out that such deconstructionist emphasis on relativism is little different from the thirty-year-old feminist critique of the social construction of gender.18 And, unlike the poststructuralists, I would argue that differences are not all equal. The two genders may be similarly socially constructed, but under patriarchy they do not enjoy the same power and privileges. Another way in which this biography differs from the standard is that it attempts to move beyond the liberal-individualist model of the "great man" simply transposed to the "great woman." Much has been written of late regarding the uses of biography for feminist

17 Introduction

purposes. Historians and literary critics have, in particular, wanted to move beyond traditional biography, which in its classic form selects mythic Hegelian world-historical figures as its subject matter. Always important public men, they generally suffer some terrible inner torment in the fulfilment of their great destiny, which is to create history. The "great man" lives a childhood and youth full of promise and foreshadowing, overcomes obstacles, comes to his full potential, accomplishes great deeds, and then, of no further use to fate, declines. Although this kind of biography has always been used by popular writers, it has in the past forty years or so fallen out of favour with academics. Most recent innovative scholarly work has concerned itself with broad social and cultural trends, statistical analysis, and a focus on the ordinary and inarticulate in society. From this perspective, biography can be seen as old-fashioned, a return to an outdated style. We tend not to view the past in terms of the achievements of individual great men anymore. So why reclaim this outmoded medium for the writing of women's history? To begin with, designating someone's life as worthy of biography makes a statement about the value of that individual. As Phyllis Rose has aptly observed, "In starkly political terms, biography is a tool by which the dominant society reinforces its values." Thus it is not surprising that it has "ignored women; it ignores the poor and working class; it ignores the unprivileged; it ignores noncelebrities. Such a formulation is useful only up to a point, because it ignores almost everyone. ... Biography is still shaking off assumptions about fit subjects closer to that of classical tragedy, which dealt only with royalty and heroes." As Rose tellingly concludes, "In biography the bourgeois-democratic revolution is just beginning. For, of course, what happens when you start writing biographies about the minor and the failed is that they don't seem so failed or minor any more."19 Indeed, many feminist biographies fit within Rose's liberal framework, which is to resurrect forgotten great women, reclaim their achievement, and celebrate their importance as role models for women today. But as with all liberal feminist agendas, these biographies place women within a male model of achievement, focusing on exceptional women who have achieved in the public sphere, in ways normally credited by patriarchy.20 This is in no way to suggest that these are not extremely valuable and important works that must be written if women's historical experience is to be fully reclaimed.21 Yet they do not tell us as much as we might like about women whose lives cannot be considered important within the standard value hierarchy of the patriarchal, liberal-individualistic culture of Western society.

i8 A Life of Propriety

Some women's historians have tried to resolve this problem by using a "life cycle" approach that tends to focus on the personal and private sphere. Thus the biographical focus is taken off the exceptional nature of the subject, and representativeness is stressed. Different kinds of documentary evidence are emphasized, and sources such as letters and journals become more important than, for example, literary output, a record of political activities, or intellectual achievements. As Margaret Conrad expresses it, "We are shifting the focus from the world of men to that of women. If public and published documents are few and macro studies difficult, then we must investigate personal and private sources with greater seriousness."22 Although we would not want to ignore public aspects of women's lives in this emphasis on the personal, we need to turn our attention more to the private sphere if we are to get a sense of the different realities of women's history.23 But this personalizing does not mean that we do not generalize from the individual. As Kathleen Barry has so aptly commented, "when biography can totalize society in a life, it has achieved the collective identity of the subject. When women's lives can be read as encapsulations of the society, it will be because the collective identity of women as a sexclass has not only been discerned in the particular life but because it is drawn into the life from the society as a whole."24 Thus, by looking at the life of a woman who did not make any lasting mark in the public sphere, and by focusing more on the personal and private, we can provide an outline of a life that is broadly representative rather than exceptional. Anne Murray Powell's life was not marked by any great accomplishments, but she can tell us much about family and social life in the era that she lived in.25 A final way in which this biography differs from the liberalindividualistic model is that Anne Murray Powell's life is seen in context, situated within her family and in the web of relationships that made up her world. Her particular biography is not artificially separated out from that of the people she was most intimately involved with, so the spotlight is not just on her life alone. Neither is it a straightforward narrative travelling in an unwavering line from birth to death. The chapters of this book are organized only partly chronologically and there are a number of shorter, related biographical stories throughout. Examination of the lives of her siblings and her children allows for a broader focus on the time that she lived in and embodied. In particular, the lives of her sons and daughters show how the new ideas about gender roles and family life that began in Anne's lifetime in the eighteenth century were

ig Introduction developed and carried forward into the next generations of the nineteenth century. In the years that I have been engaged in the research and writing of this book, Anne Murray Powell and her family have been my constant companions, and their living essence has grown until it has become a vivid presence in my life. Now I finally send them out into the world, so that others can come to know them as I do. In presenting them to you, it is my hope that you will find their company as interesting and learn as much from them as I have done.

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PART ONE

Learning and Living the Lessons of Propriety

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1

Early Years at Boston

It was 1771 when the sixteen-year-old Anne Murray bade farewell to her mother and father at Norwich and sailed with her Aunt Elizabeth to the New World. "Thus commenced my eventful life," she recalled in her old age.1 The young Anne was torn by conflicting emotions as she watched the mainland of England recede into the distance. Homesickness, excitement, and fear competed for control of her naturally cautious spirit. In the end, and for one of few times in her life, the exuberance of youth won out. "My sorrowful feelings for the seperation from those I best loved," she later remembered, "were alleviated by the novelty by which I was surrounded."2 Certainly very little in Anne's early years had prepared her for an adventure of this magnitude. A transatlantic move is a dramatic enough change today with rapid world-wide transportation and media communication networks. In 1771, such a relocation was by comparison a monumental undertaking, fraught with the danger of shipwreck and, even more, uncertainty as to what would greet the traveller upon arrival. This was an enormous step for a sheltered young woman. "Never was a girl of 16 so much a child as myself in person and mind," Anne admitted as she reminisced about this time.3 Anne Murray was born in Wells, England on 26 April 1755 to parents of middle-class background. Her father, Dr John Murray, began his life in Scotland in 1720, and as a young man became a surgeon in the British navy. Later he was to upgrade his quali-

24 A Life of Propriety

fications by studying medicine at the University of Edinburgh, from which he graduated in i75i. 4 This allowed him to retire from the navy on his half-pay and enter into private practice, first at Wells, then finally at Norwich in 1768. This improvement in his professional prospects also meant that he was able to undertake the responsibilities of married life at around this time. His bride was fellow Anglican Mary Boyles, the daughter of a customs collector, and together she and John aspired to a respectable and genteel social status. John was one of a new breed of professional middleclass men, and he had a strong sense of the importance of his stature in his community. He was remembered as one "who distinguished himself by encouraging every charitable pursuit." John was involved in the formation of the Scots Society in 1775, a philanthropic organization that eventually expanded from its original purpose of aiding his needy countrymen to serving the needs of all destitute foreigners. He was also instrumental in the building and operation of the Norfolk and Norwich Hospital. John Murray was eulogized as "an amiable philanthropist ... a man universally beloved, and eminently distinguished by his domestic virtues, unaffected piety, professional abilities, and extensive benevolence," clearly a person of some social standing.5 Upwardly mobile individuals like John Murray and Mary Boyles were part of the emerging middle class which wrested social dominance from the British aristocracy. It was unfortunate that John's income did not always match their aspirations. Mary was an impressively fertile woman, bearing thirteen children altogether. John found it difficult to support this brood and provide for their future on the uncertain returns of his medical work. It was not until 1771, after twenty years of practice, that he was reported as "getting into better business." 6 John and Mary did their best, nevertheless, to provide their many children with an education in keeping with their social standing. Their sons were all launched in various careers and the daughters each spent some time away from home at school. Anne, we know, briefly attended one of the boarding schools then popular for young ladies run by a Mrs Palmer. There she was taught more than the bare skills of reading. A girl's school advertisement typical of its day assured middle-class parents that their daughters would be "boarded and instructed in the rudiments of the English Tongue, and taught Dresden and all manner of Needlework in the Neatest Manner." In addition to this, "The Utmost Care and Attention are had to their Conduct and Behaviour in general, as well as to their Improvement. Writing, French, Music and Dancing are also taught

25 Early Years at Boston

... at an additional, but easy Expence."7 Such an advertisement reflected the educational priorities of the day. Reading was considered to be quite separate from the more advanced skill of writing. As Jennifer Monaghan has pointed out, the teaching of penmanship to girls was a new development among the urban-dwelling and status-conscious middle classes of the eighteenth century. What may seem to be a very rudimentary curriculum by today's standards was in fact quite advanced for its time. Prior to this, the only manner in which a girl might form letters would be by stitching a sampler.8 Certainly, in those days before the widespread mass production of garments, sewing was a skill that was of great practical as well as ornamental value for a young girl. Dancing, music, and French would add some extra sophistication and polish. If we are to judge the quality of Anne's education by that of her younger sisters, the Murrays made every effort to give their daughters these advantages. Charlotte, for example, was sent to a "dancing and writing" school in 1771, according to her father.9 A year later, she was still "learning to dance Be write besides going to Mrs Woolner's day school." Nor was this to be the limit of her education. "I intended to have begun to teach her french this year," John related of his thirteen-year old daughter, "but find that she has irons enough in the fire already."10 By the time she was twelve in 1773, Charlotte was ready to be sent "to a boarding school somewhere that she may feel her own weight a little before she launches into the world."11 Her older sister Elizabeth was already away at school at that time, taught by a Mrs Halsey. By 1778 the two girls were spending most of their time in "work, play and attending] household affairs by turns," and it was now their younger sister Helen's turn for schooling outside of the home. Her father proudly declared that she was "no bad needlewoman" and was "learning to dance with Mr Christian."12 Anne, too, was educated in this manner, trained in what Marjorie Theobald has described as an "accomplishments curriculum." which "dictated excellence in music, modern languages and painting" in addition to basic reading and writing.13 Such education was integrally linked to the aspirations of the upwardly mobile middle class. "Speech, manners, social ritual and the right connections were vital," Theobald has pointed out, and it was crucially important for the middle class "to educate their daughters in the way of gentility."14 This most decidedly did not mean that girls were trained for the same reason as boys, so that they might establish themselves as independent wage-earners. Although a middle-class woman might without social stigma take on the role of teacher to other young women like herself, there was a

26 A Life of Propriety

very clear "understanding that female achievement must not be used in the public sphere."'5 It was thus not thought necessary to train girls in such subjects as mathematics, geography, Latin and history. A girl's destiny lay in the drawing-room of her father or husband as a new breed of middle-class lady who was, at least in theory, not to soil her hands with manual labour like a lower-class woman. Nor was she to imitate the free-wheeling social lives of aristocratic women, or become a learned lady like some of her bluestocking predecessors. The Reverend James Fordyce emphasized the importance of retiring domesticity for middle-class girls in his influential Sermons to Young Women, first published in 1757 when Anne was but two years old: "If aught on earth can present the image of celestial excellence in its softest array, it is surely an Accomplished Woman in whom purity and meekness, intelligence and modesty, mingle in their arms. But when I speak on this subject, need I tell you, that men of the best sense have been usually averse to the thought of marrying a witty female?'"6 Since marriageability was the key to a middleclass girl's future prospects, too much learning was clearly a liability. But this did not mean that she was to be only a social butterfly, constantly attending parties and showing off the results of her dancing lessons. Another commentator on young women's proper role, the Reverend John Bennet, wrote in 1797 that "the qualities, which every man of real taste and sense wishes, particularly, to find in a woman, are simplicity and domestick worth." He continued on to lecture his readers that "What ever undomesticates a woman so far unmakes her as to all the valuable purposes of her existence, and is at once the bane of her usefulness, her happiness and her virtue ... It is undomesticated women, that poison the sources of our sweetest comforts." And, he concluded sweepingly, "It is undomesticated women, that have houses without any order or arrangement, servants without discipline, and children, without instruction; that are friends without friendship, wives without constancy, and parents without affection."17 Clearly domestic happiness would be destroyed if young girls displayed any of their talents outside of their own household. But even worse than this, Fordyce warned darkly, the path that led away from the protected sphere of domesticity was the road to a world where young women's virtue and safety were not ensured. "Even the worst men," he affirmed, "are struck by the sovereignty of female worth unambitious of appearing [in public]. But if a young person," he warned, "(supposing her dispositions in other respects ever so good) will always be breaking loose through each domestic enclosure, and ranging at large the wide common of

27 Early Years at Boston

the world, these destroyers will see her in a very different light. They will consider her as lawful game to be hunted down without hesitation."18 The messages given to Fordyce's young readers are clear. Girls of the middling classes were to be modest, reserved, and retiring. Although they were to be able to both read and write, they should never be learned. They were to be accomplished only that they might adorn their drawing-rooms and behave with grace in society. In practical terms they were to be able to sew and understand housewifery at least to the extent that they would be capable of directing servants in the smooth running of the home. This was an education intended to equip them with the necessary skills to be daughters, sisters, wives, and mothers whom their middle-class male protectors would be proud to show off to others, and who would ensure the pleasant and regular ordering of family life. In the language of the day, young girls like the Murray daughters would be trained to behave with the utmost decorum and propriety, an important part of which was a retiring domesticity. It was, then, quite unusual for a young woman of her class to be sent so far away from her home and parents before marriage as was Anne. Boys often travelled great distances for academic or professional training, but except for perhaps a stint at a carefully supervised boarding school, or well-regulated visits to other households, single girls did not leave home. Financial necessity alone drove the Murrays to seek further means of establishing their daughters in life. Fortunately, they had close relatives who took a keen interest in their children's welfare. Dr John Murray's brother James and sister Elizabeth had left their native Scotland in the 17305 in search of better prospects, which they had found in the American colonies. Elizabeth in particular had prospered, and she was generous enough to share some of her good fortune with her financially burdened brother. For some years she sent him money on a regular basis. Never having children of her own, Elizabeth was also to "adopt" several of her nieces and nephews throughout her life. When she visited England as a wealthy widow in 1769, she assumed responsibility for John's three eldest - John, Mary (nicknamed Polly), and Anne. The plan was that they would come to live with her in Boston, and she would ensure that they were well prepared for adult life. Her ideas about how to ensure the successful future of young ladies, however, would not have been approved of by Bennet and Fordyce. Aunt Elizabeth, having been born in 1726, was cast from a different mould than the young women who were growing up in

28 A Life of Propriety

the mid to late eighteenth century. She would have been surprised at Bennet's dire warnings concerning the dangers of the public sphere, because for her it had been such an advantageous world. When Elizabeth emigrated to America at the age of thirteen in 1739, she at first kept house for her brother on his North Carolina plantation. By 1749, she was twenty-three and anxious to make her own way in the world.'9 An unusually independent and self-reliant young woman, she borrowed £800 from a Mr Bridgeon and travelled to England, where she purchased a stock of goods so that she could set herself up in trade.20 Rather than return to her brother's home in North Carolina, she decided after stopping at Boston on her way home that she would have better prospects there. Elizabeth industriously set to work, and in "addition to selling millinery, cloth, and sewing supplies ..., taught needlework to young ladies." This brought her such success that "By 1754 ... she had an inventory worth £700, had hired an assistant," and had paid off her initial costs, making enough profit that she "was able to afford a voyage to England."21 Almost thirty years later, Elizabeth looked back on her business career with a great deal of satisfaction. "I rejoice," she wrote to her brother John in 1783, "that the spirit of independence caused such exertions to place me in a situation that I am content to pass the remainder of my days in, untaught as I was I am surprised 8c my heart overflows with gratitude at the success I have met with."22 In mid-eighteenth-century Boston, Elizabeth's achievements in the public sphere were respected rather than deplored. Terri Premo has observed that Elizabeth was one of a number of women of her day who "pushed beyond the confines of the domestic sphere in an attempt to achieve financial security and independence." She was able to do this because she lived "before the tenets of domesticity had become firmly entrenched in the early nineteenth century. By that time, women who lived outside the model of true womanhood risked a greater chance of alienation."23 Elizabeth was in fact much admired, and married three times during her active life. In 1755, Elizabeth wed Thomas Campbell, a Boston merchant and ship's captain. After his death in early 1760, she did not enter a prolonged period of mourning; James Smith became her second husband only a few months later. Smith's age may have encouraged the couple not to waste time in a prolonged courtship: at seventy, he was thirty-six years her senior. Smith was a wealthy Boston distiller, described by James Murray as "a £30,000 man."24 In a prenuptial contract, Elizabeth was guaranteed not only complete title to her own property but also £10,000 after Smith's death,25 but there are indications that this was not a cynical and materialistic liaison on

2g Early Years at Boston

her part. Her marriage had placed "her in the best circumstances of any of her sex in the town," brother James wrote home in 1761. Nonetheless, he assured their family that the newlyweds "both enjoy a happiness which is rarely met with in matches of such disparity."26 Elizabeth and James had nine happy years together before he died in 1769 after a lingering illness. His widow's extreme exhaustion and depression following James's death at first alarmed her friends and relatives. They were pleased and amazed when at last, in a typical display of energy and decision, she got up out of her sickbed and announced that she would go visit her relatives in Scotland and England. After that, her health improved rapidly.27 On the eve of her departure for England, Elizabeth Smith was at the peak of her wealth and influence in Boston society. Years later, her nephew was to comment that "this period of her career was attended with all the conveniences & comforts of affluence - no one better understood or exercised the true use of riches than herself her education & associations brought her into intimate acquaintance with all the best society of Boston Be its vicinity."28 Shortly before sailing, she sat for a portrait by John Singleton Copley, the famous painter of the Boston elite. It is an example of "conventional genteel portraiture," presenting the active businesswoman somewhat incongruously "in the guise of an idle, wealthy matron."29 Although romantically painted in a flowing gown with a diaphanous scarf tossed back over her shoulder, Elizabeth has a sturdy and confident bearing. Her gaze is directed at the viewer in a frank and open manner, and although her clothes are clearly expensive, her dress is plain and untrimmed. One hand has drawn up her apron in front of her, making a basket, and the other rests on the fruit that it holds. If this was intended to be symbolic, it may have been indicating not only the bounty of her wealth but also her willingness to share it with others. In particular Elizabeth shared her good fortune by taking an interest in the daughters of her friends and relatives, perhaps thereby filling a gap in her own life. She became a second mother to her brother James's two daughters, Dorothy and Elizabeth (also called Betsey), and took Betsey with her on her trip to England. Others also saw her as a warm and generous individual. Nina M. Tiffany, in Letters of James Murray Loyalist, relates that "her large heart and sunny temperament gave her a winning personality. She was, as her brother said, 'vastly beloved for her frankness and continual efforts to do good offices.' "3° She had many close women friends, one of whom, Christian Barnes, described her as "The Best Woman in the World." When Elizabeth left for England in 1769,

30 A Life of Propriety

the loyal Christian prayed that "God Almighty grant her a Safe Passage and a Happy sight of her friends and once more return her in safety to this Part of the world in this Prayr I am Joined by Thousands for never was there any Person more beloved or lamented."31 Given her reputation for generosity, her childlessness, and the independence she enjoyed with her wealth and widowhood, is it any wonder that Elizabeth's brother John would turn to her to resolve his financial problems? When Elizabeth arrived in England, she was appalled at the manner in which her brother and sister-in-law had brought up her nieces. The new ideals of middle-class female domesticity then becoming popular in England did not fit well with Elizabeth's ideas about female independence and business activity. She was dismayed that John's eldest daughter, Mary, who had been in boarding school since the age often, was only qualified to "enter the gay seens of life & become a fine Lady." "In my opinion" she told her brother James, "that will enervet her so much that business will ever be irksome to her."32 "Seeing the consequence of young people being brought up in idleness and entering the world with all its gaietys, triffling away the most active part of their life or marrying imprudently, I have advised my Brother," Elizabeth told her friend Christian Barnes, "to put his daughter into some way of providing for herself. ... I hope going among strangers will rouse her faculty s and make her industrious, which to me is more agreeable than the fine delicate creatures that fly about for amusement. She has hitherto been brought up in the lap of indulgence."33 Aunt Elizabeth's prescription for success in life was, naturally enough, the one that had worked so well for her. She immediately sent the two eldest children, John and Mary, ahead to Massachusetts to the care of their Uncle James, who was then living in Boston. Upon their arrival early in 1770, John was apprenticed to a merchant while Mary was tutored by her uncle in basic mathematics and accounting. Aunt Elizabeth stayed in England and Scotland for another year, sailing back to Boston not only with John's daughter Betsey but with Jackie Day (the orphaned daughter of an old friend) and her niece Anne. Aunt Elizabeth wasted no time upon her return in the summer of 1771 in setting the girls to some productive work. Mary, Anne, and Jackie became partners in a millinery shop. Mary evidently shared her aunt's enjoyment of and talent for trade. She became the backbone of the business, as Elizabeth acknowledged three years later. "Polly's capacity for business is so great," she wrote in 1774, "that I thought going home would be a great advantage to her 8c

31 Early Years at Boston

she ought to be indulged with the sight of her Friends, she merits and has the love of those who are here."34 Jackie Day, in contrast, was not much of a success as a shopkeeper. One observer, a Miss Spencer, commented that she considered herself "greatly above her Bussness." "Poor girl I sincerely pity her ... [she is] much Disliked by her Customers she is wrong." Mary, in contrast, was the model of what Jackie should be. "Can she have a better example before her eyes," asked Miss Spencer, "than the amiable Polly Murray so content with her situation she is a pattern to every Girl in my opinion from her good sense."35 Jackie's dislike of keeping shop was shared by Anne, but she was more tactful in dealing with customers. When Mary left for England in mid-1774, Anne was deputed to take her place at the head of the business. This was a traumatic experience for her. Elizabeth seems to have underestimated the extent of Anne's reluctance. She was delighted to report that "Anne [has] taken the business upon herself highly pleased with her faculty ... she has been very industerous & at her needle." Elizabeth admitted that "she depended entirely on Polly for the care of the shop & accounts" but minimized Anne's insecurity and fear of continuing on without the support of her older sister. As Elizabeth explained, "It was with great difficulty I perswaded her she was capable to take care of the shop & accounts (many tears were shade. I think I hear you say cruel monster to plague the poor Child so)."36 Her friend Christian Barnes was in complete agreement with this decision, assuring Elizabeth that "I am much pleased with the Plan you have laid for Miss Polly [to visit England]. I never doubted but that the young Ladys would readily concur with anything you propose tho I fancy the plan is put in execution sooner than they anticipated." Christian saw the promised success and independence of the young women to be a positive thing which would outweigh any reluctance on Anne's part: "I sincerely wish their undertakings may be crownd with success for their own sakes; as well as for the Honour of the Sex for who shall say we have not equal abilitys with the Men when Girls ... discover such great capacitys."37 Anne did not share Christian's assessment of her capacities. Her education, which would not have included much background in arithmetic, had not prepared her for running a business. In the past three years she had relied on her sister rather than learned from her. Months after Mary's departure, Anne, even though now a more mature nineteen, still had not adjusted to her absence. Her unhappiness was a mixture of feelings of incompetence and, like Jackie Day, she had a sense of being socially degraded by having to

32 A Life of Propriety

deal with the public as an inferior clerk in a shop. In old age, Anne was to remember this period as the unhappiest in her life. She related in 1838 that "under the auspices of my excellent and affectionate Aunt I entered into a state to the duties of which I was neither sufficiently sensible, or equal to perform." s8 Furthermore, she wrote, "I recollect with a degree of horror the exposed situation in which their decisions [her aunt and father] placed an ignorant childish girl."39 At the time, Anne obviously felt trapped. She felt incompetent and humiliated, yet could not rebel against the authority of her elders. With the return of her sister to England, she also began to feel abandoned and homesick. Six months after Mary had left, Anne explained her unhappy situation to her cousin Betsey: I know my Dear Girl you will say I have no real cause for unhappiness. But place yourself in my situation & you will find that an heart not entirely insensible must feel a good deal sometimes. See me seperated from the best of Parents & from other Connexions who are both from Nature, affection & habit, are dearer to me than any can be. You will say &: Justly, that I left them by my own desire - my motives were such as I cannot but think good, [to ease her father's financial situation] - but yet when a thought of them enters do you wonder at my brow appearing less Chearful. A knowledge of the impossibility of seeing them for this long time always gives me a Pang, but particularly when I meet with any rebuff which I might think could be avoided was I still under the maternal wing. While my sister was here I felt it less. She was a friend on whom I could rely for immediate consolation but since her absence, I have been more in the way, & have met with more disagreeable sensations than I could have done had she been here. I have at times been so chagrin'd that I have thought my resolution would not hold me up. My situation cannot be alterr'd & if it could, may be it would be for the worse. My heart feels the warmest gratitude to my Dearest aunt. Amid every mortification I look with wonder upon her goodness. Let me be unhappy, but never let me be ungrateful.40

When Anne wrote these words, she was torn between her desperate unhappiness and the duty that she felt she owed to her aunt and parents. Her father, pressed by the financial demands on him, had initially approved of the millinery venture. In 1771 he had written to Elizabeth that "we cannot but approve of your fixing them [Anne, Mary and Jackie] in business as soon as possible."111 Even in 1773, John Murray followed his sister's advice on the education of his daughters. "Agreeable to your desire," he told Elizabeth, "I have pushed Charlotte forward in her arithmetic. She is already as far as division and as soon as she is fit for book-keeping

33 Early Years at Boston

shall be instructed." Evidently Anne and Mary had not been too well prepared for business. "I thought the elder girls were so much acquainted with figures that with very little pains they might have acquired a notion of book-keeping, if not in [the] formal method of double Entry at least sufficient [to] be distinct in their small way of trade."42 But by 1774, Dr Murray was having second thoughts about the suitability of such public occupation for his girls. When Mary returned to Norwich he was disconcerted by her changed independent behaviour and did not send her back to Massachusetts. Were it not for the intervention of the American Revolution, he would also have recalled Anne. When the war was over, he wrote to his son John in Boston explaining his change of heart. Elizabeth somehow read the letter, and her reaction was one of hurt and surprise, for John had written that Mary's reputation and social status had been damaged by her employment in the "public sphere." She wrote to her brother, defending her actions. "Their is one paragraph in your letter that I do not understand," she said, quoting from the letter he had written to John, "viz you know or at least your aunt knowes that your sister gave up all her consequence & most favourite hopes to comply with her request. If this means business, I am sorry the disadvantages arising from young Ladys going into business did not occur to you [in] time enough to prevent it. Did you not occation me to form this plan by saying what woud you do with so large a family. Could I be blamed for pointing out that mode of life which I had received the greatest advantage & satisfaction. If you who are acquainted with the circumstances of my past situation will take a view of it you will assent to these opinions." Elizabeth's only regret was that "had not this cruel war taken place it wou'd have been in my power to have put my dear Polly into a state of independence."43 John Murray was evidently nonplussed by Elizabeth's response. His embarrassment shows in the weak explanation he appended to the letter that Mary wrote in reply to her aunt. "Mary having said so much," he wrote, "little remains for me only to express my gratitude for your continued parental regard of my children and my grief for having in my letter of June last given so much cause of uneasiness. The passage you particularly mention cannot so well [be] explained by letter as by word of mouth."44 Mary, now in her late twenties, was finding it difficult to adjust to her once more restricted life-style and her renewed dependence. Her part of the letter is a masterpiece of ambiguity intended to offend neither aunt nor father. She assured Elizabeth rather poignantly that "that spirit of independence you cherish'd in me, is not yet extinct." Since she

34 A Life of Propriety

had returned to England, however, she had found that "I must, I do, endeavour to stifle its remonstrances to check its progress and accommodate myself to my present situation." Mary hoped that "the younger Children provided for my dear Father's cares will not be so extensive, the claims upon him will diminish & mine will be preferr'd with a better grace." Mary found it difficult to reconcile the obedience and dependence her father at once insisted upon and complained about with the self-sufficiency her aunt had cultivated in her. "Your approbation has been the sanction of my conduct," she assured Elizabeth, "and I shall never repine at the means I acquired it. The trials I have sustain'd are nothing in proportion to what you have suffer'd" in the American Revolution.45 It is likely that John Murray blamed Mary's "spirit of independence" for the fact that she had not yet found a man to marry and support her. As Mr Fordyce had warned, respectable young women did not strike out in the world on their own, but remained protected in the domestic sphere. A talent for business was not likely to be considered as much of an asset for a future career as wife and mother. In 1774 Anne knew nothing of her father's change of heart and felt that it was her duty to continue on in the business that she hated. Her background, abilities, and inclinations daily pushed her into conflict with her occupation in the "public sphere." A naturally conservative and cautious young woman, what in her view was a forced public humiliation caused her great unhappiness that others eventually began to notice. A friend of her aunt's, Mrs Banister, scolded her, writing her "a long lecture, or rather ... a good deal of advice against suffering my imagination to raise or to heighten Evils. You know my natural propensity that way," Anne admitted to her cousin Betsey, "& if I am not mistaken have often blam'd it. I myself condemn but cannot overcome it. Time may effect a cure, but I am apt to think it is too natural to be removed & that it will remain while I have a being. I only feel its pernicious tendency in taking too firm hold of me & by that means making me irksome to those Friends whose good opinion are my greatest Blessing." Others had noticed that she had "grown cross," Anne acknowledged with dismay, "Tho' the reason then was a real one, for Melancholy tho' not for ill nature but I was sensible that for sometime before my excessive gravity had made it imagin'd that my temper was chang'd. The thought of what would be my loss if such a supposition should in time grow into a reality rous'd me, & I have ever since tried to assume the face of cheerfulness let it ever be so foreign from my heart."46 Aunt Elizabeth apparently had no inkling that her niece was so unhappy. It was not until ten years afterward that she was to

35 Early Years at Boston

learn the truth. Anne later wrote that "in one of the many subsequent conversations with our liberal aunt, while an inmate at Cambridge in 1783-4, she expressed her surprise and regret that I had not resisted what was so repugnant to my wishes and disposition."47 Neither Elizabeth nor her close and ever-watchful friends Mrs Barnes and Mrs Banister seem to have understood the true source of Anne's distress. They seemed to see her unhappiness as a lack of confidence and their remedy was to push her further in the direction of business and the public sphere. They were women of another era who did not see public occupations for women as at all compromising of social status. Certainly Aunt Elizabeth's reputation had not been hurt by her success in business. Shortly after her return from Britain, she was courted by a prominent Boston citizen, Mr Ralph Inman. Their marriage came as a surprise to the family and alarmed John Murray. He did his best to make his sister feel guilty in the letter he wrote "approving" of her advantageous marriage. He wrote with some pathos of "our children, whose interest, I dare say, will suffer nothing from the late step you have taken, while their behaviour and conduct continue to merit your notice and encouragement. Yet you will forgive me if I own that I now and then feel a pang for them. Oh my Children! Orphans in a Strange Land! What will become of you, if Providence should remove your Aunt or any Cause alienate her affection? Thou God of my Fathers and his Children's Youth! vouchsafe also to be the God and Guide of immediate protection."48 John's fears did not materialize, but, as Anne herself remembered, "my aunt's marriage removed me from her immediate protection."49 The awkwardness, discomfort, and depression that Anne suffered and her aunt did not fully perceive were traumatic experiences in the young girl's life. More than sixty years later, they still loomed large in her past, magnified through the passage of time into a painful wound and a secret shame. As Anne explained to her brother George in 1838, the great part of my residence in Boston was one of the most severe mortification; a plan of life for which from Nature and education I was totally unfit, was marked out for me by those who had ever governed my conduct. It was my duty to submit to the wishes of beloved Parents, whose will could not be disputed. Never was a girl of 16 so much a child as myself in person and mind; yet with this childishness I was not insensible to the consequences of loss of Caste. There were periods when the bitterness of my feelings led me to imprudent resistance of what I considered to be assumption of superiority; but except in one instance I do not recollect a single

36 A Life of Propriety complaint to our revered Parents, and this resulted from the proposal to send our Sister Charlotte to us. I then begged that no more of the family might be placed in the state of degradation I now experienced, that I was ready to share my earnings with her, even by [torn] industry but begged she might be spared a participation in my irreperable humiliation. God knows there was no Profit, it was all loss, as poor Mr Bridgeon could testify. After my dear Sisters departure to England when all was left to my inefficient control, the only assistant a Black Man ... who could make figures on a slate in the way of accounts ... You will not be surprised that I still refer to these events with pain, but also with wonder at escape from perils consequent to my unprotected state. ... You will not wonder at my reluctance to advert to painful scenes, which even a long and varied life has not been capable to obliterate.50

It appears that time had enlarged rather than healed the wounds that Anne had incurred in her youth. However, she had to concede that her situation had some alleviating aspects. Somewhat compensating for her "loss of caste" was the social acceptance she enjoyed when not serving in the shop. "I had some kind friends," she wrote, "amongst whom I always found a welcome on principles of equality."51 Indeed her sister Mary's letters home reveal a busy and active social life. Her brother George observed that Anne and Mary managed to rise above their inferior station as milliners by decorous and proper behaviour that showed their good breeding. He commented that "mortifying as was this illjudged employment, they nevertheless preserved the dignity of the name [of Murray] & on all occasions when opportunity offered shewed themselves fitted for the society of any of the highest of the aristocracy that were then in the wealthy and most distinguished circles of Boston and by whom they were at all times received with remarkable civility." Even the capable businesswoman Mary had been socially acceptable enough to have "returned to England with the family of Governor Hutchison."52 Although George may have wished to enhance the family reputation by stressing that Anne and her sister associated with "aristocrats," in reality Anne was more interested in young girls of her own background. Her cousin Betsey and Anne Powell (also called Nancy), the daughter of a Boston merchant, were her especially close friends. Particularly after Mary left for England, Anne found solace in the intense romantic friendships typical of girls of her era. As the English conduct writer Hannah More described them in 1777, these relationships inspired intense and passionate feelings: "When an innocent girl of this open, trusting, tender heart, happens to meet with one of her own sex and age, whose address and manners are

37 Early Years at Boston engaging she is instantly seized with an ardent desire to commence a friendship with her." More described the closeness that the two girls would develop in language that would be reserved for heterosexual lovers today. The young girl, More tells us, feels the most lively impatience at the restraint of company and in the decorums of ceremony. She longs to be alone with her, longs to assure her of the warmth of her tenderness, and generously ascribes to the fair stranger all the good qualities she feels in her own heart, or rather all those which she has met with in her reading widely dispersed in a wide variety of heroines. She is persuaded, that her new friend unites them all in herself, because she carries in her prepossessing countenance the promise of them all. How cruel and censorious would this inexperienced girl think her mother was, who should venture to hint, that the agreeable unknown had defects in her temper, or exceptions in her character. ... Yet this trusting confidence, this honest indiscretion, is, at this early period of life as amiable as it is natural.53 Carroll Smith-Rosenberg sees these friendships as being a constant feature of American society from around the middle of the eighteenth century until at least 1850. She ascribes this to the increasing separation of the male and female spheres which made men and women virtual strangers to each other until marriage. Friendship with other girls was the socially acceptable outlet for a natural desire for intimacy. These strong attachments were not exclusive, however, but formed a network of female support.54 In this, Anne was typical of her day. A letter that she wrote to cousin Betsey, who was staying at Brush Hill just outside of Boston, describes a joyful reunion with her "Nancy," Anne Powell. Had I accepted your invitation to B[rush] Hill last night my Dear Betsey, I should have regretted my absence when I might have been happy in the meeting [of] an esteemed friend, from whom I had been seperated five months. But as I did not accompany you, I was happy in being with her an hour & half last night. To say I was happy to see her would be doing injustice to my feelings. My joy was greater than I can express & I hope hers was not less so, I know my dear you will congratulate me. I look forward with Pleasure to the many hours we shall spend together this summer & I know no person whom I wish would form a trio so much as yourself. Might a wood in Brush Hill be the place for us to meet in, there retired from Noise, Bustle and Nonsense we might enjoy all the Calm Delights Friendship is capable of producing. My Choleric shall be used to procure for us such a scene in a week. It will be short lived but not less

3 8 A Life of Propriety pleasing the time it is. We will chace away thought of it's not being forever, & give way to nothing but the sweets of mutual confidence and affection. Would to God our Plan could ever subsist in any more certain way than in the imagination. I look upon it to be the only way for me to be happy this side the skies. I know my Nancy with all her sprightliness would spend the greatest part of her time with us. Notwithstanding her apparent attachment to the world I believe she does not think better of it than you 8c I.55

Nancy seems to have shared her friend's desire to be constantly together in such an intimate and private setting, the better to enjoy the sober delights of serious friendship. She wrote to her brother in 1774 that she would consider herself "happy, my dear William ... was Anne and yourself in our Neighbourhood. My imagination cannot create a more Pleasing Society than might be formed from our family and a few select friends. How infinitely preferable to what the gay and thoughtless style pleasure."56 This retreat into the intense world of intimate friendship was, for the young Anne Murray, a compensation for the difficulties that she experienced daily at the millinery shop. There, she felt humiliated and incompetent. She worried that she had failed to meet her aunt's expectations, and her depression and unhappiness did not meet with any sympathetic response. After Mary departed, she felt even more exposed than ever to these problems. Fortunately for Anne, her friendship with Nancy Powell was to bring her quite naturally into association with the individual who was to provide her with a permanent solution to her difficulties, Nancy's older brother, William Dummer Powell.

2 The Founding of a Family, 1775-1800

In August of 1774, Anne Murray wrote to her cousin Betsey in the romantic style of the time that "Never anybody who wish'd so little to enter the Married State, had so high an opinion of it as myself. To see an happy pair, gives me satisfaction I can't express." Then she was careful to play down her interest. "Some would be ill natur'd enough to say if they were looking over my shoulder 'that the joy I felt at such a sight proceeded from the Love of Novelty so natural to our sex.' - but I think it proceeds from a nobler cause."1 Anne's denial of any personal interest in married life may have been less than sincere. Her own wedding to William Dummer Powell was to take place little more than a year later.2 Marriage was to bring Anne the escape from the millinery business that she craved, but it was not to make her life an easy one. As she later observed, her "Couch has not been strewed with Roses."3 William's peripatetic career was to involve Anne in eight major changes of residence and four transatlantic voyages before 1800. All this occurred while she gave birth to and raised nine children, bearing on average one every two years and three months from 1775 to 1794. Anne's future husband was born in Boston on 5 November 1755. His father, John Powell, was a leading Boston merchant who for thirty years held the contract for provisioning the Royal Navy. This secured a more than comfortable living for his family. John's success as a merchant was doubtless reinforced by his marriage to Janet Grant, the daughter of "Sweton Grant, a merchant in Rhode Island, a Baronet de jure [by right] who had declined to use his title."4

40 The Lessons of Propriety

Their son William began his education at the Boston Free Grammar School. After William had spent three years studying little more than Latin, John Powell decided that his eldest son needed a better education than the colonies could offer. Accordingly, he took him to England to attend a boarding school at Tunbridge, Kent. There he was placed under the care of his maternal relative, Sir Alexander Grant, who was also a wealthy merchant. William attended this school for four years, leaving at the age of fourteen without having particularly distinguished himself at anything but cricket. Grant decided that he needed some polish and first-hand experience of business, so he sent him to live with a merchant in Holland where he was also to learn French and Dutch. At sixteen, William returned to England, where he spent an unsettled year enjoying the social round before being summoned back to Boston in 1772 to what was supposed to be his father's deathbed. John Powell survived, however, and William found himself with very little to occupy his time. His father had no particular plan for what his son was to do now that he had returned home, so William spent his time loafing around with other unoccupied young men, "or with the female Acquaintance of my Sisters - occasional visits [to relatives] ... were the only Interruptions of an idle and unprofitable Life." In the summer of 1773, he voyaged to Quebec and visited Montreal. "There my introductions led me into military Society," he recalled, "which added nothing advantageous to my Stock of Acquirement, yet having Access to the best of the civil Society of the Province I learned from Contrast how to appreciate the seemingly useless tenor of a Soldier's life in Time of Peace."5 William's unproductive life-style was somewhat remedied during the winter of 1773-4 when, at the age of nineteen, he was placed under the attorney-general of Massachusetts, Jonathan Sewell, to study law. These studies occupied him for only part of the day, however, and he spent "The Evenings chiefly in my Mother's Circle where ... I found an attraction of great Interest in a young Person ... the friend of my Sister and favorite of my Mother."6 The object of Powell's interest was Anne Murray. At first, in keeping with her denial of any interest in marriage, the eighteen-year-old Anne did not reciprocate his attention. "The Interest had no decided appearance of being mutual," Powell later conceded.7 At the time, Anne wrote that "Billy P." was part of her social circle but did not mention him in any special way. The letter in which she had confessed her delight in witnessing marriage was written in the summer of 1774, when she was nineteen. In it, Anne also told Betsey that she had had a headache the previous evening that was still bothering

41 The Founding of a Family her and that "Billy was here this morning, & used a great many arguments to make me try something that might relieve me."8 William, being somewhat at loose ends, was not particularly interested in pursuing his legal studies at this time. He had always wanted to try business, and his mother decided in the fall of 1774 to use her influence in New York to establish him there. She must have been anxious to see him settle down in some serious occupation. Perhaps she also wished to prevent a premature attachment to Anne. On 10 September 1774, Anne observed to her cousin Dorothy that a lively group had "passed in a very sociable merry manner" an evening at the Powells' recently; that is, "all but poor W[illiam] who was in the pouts but thats not unusual."9 Perhaps "poor William" 's depression was a result of his approaching separation from Anne. In obedience to his mother's wishes, he left with her for New York in October 1774, shortly after the gathering that Anne described. Disaster intervened, however, to bring the two young people back together. Janet Powell became infected with smallpox on the voyage to New York and died shortly after her arrival there. She was only thirty-nine, and her son was very devoted to her. Later in his life, he described her as a woman of charm, accomplishment, and beauty. William was overwhelmed with grief and returned broken-hearted to Boston. For consolation, he turned to Anne, his sister's friend and mother's favourite. The sufferings of a bereaved son were too much for a romantic and homesick young lady. Her sympathy, Powell later recalled, "admitted some promise of a growing Interest on her part and much of my time was spent in her Society, either in Company, or in Tete a Tete Interviews & walks."10 It was during these months of courtship that Anne promised that, come what may, they would never part unmarried." This was a rash action, unusual for the proper Anne, that would have alarmed her and William's relatives. Indeed her sister Mary wrote from England about Anne "and her love sick swain," but pointed out that "unless the situation of affairs alter greatly I think it almost impossible for them to marry yet - they are both very young."12 By August of 1775, Anne's Uncle James had become concerned that she was spending too much time in a certain young man's company. He wrote to her Aunt Elizabeth that, "My wife proposes that she should stay with us and tend her shop in the day only. This might help to check some improper dangling."'3 The outbreak of the American Revolution was to bring Anne and William's relationship to a crisis point. In April of 1775, Boston had been sealed off by American rebel troops. William was by upbringing and inclination loyal to the British side. William Renwick

42 The Lessons of Propriety

Riddell relates that "He took the lead in the Declaration of Loyal Citizens against the Revolutionary Party, April 19, 1775; agreeing to support the Government with their lives. He joined the British Garrison at Boston as a volunteer, and was during the blockade under arms for a time, but he does not seem to have taken part in actual fighting."'4 William was such an open and avowed Loyalist that it soon became clear that he would have better prospects in England than in his native land. It was at this time that he urged Anne to keep her promise to him. Anne informed her aunt of her serious attachment to William in June of 1775, but not of the promise of marriage that she had prematurely given. Elizabeth Inman withheld her approval for the time being, and this involved Anne in a terrible dilemma. Marriage was the only available means by which she could hope to escape from the hated millinery shop. Her father would have difficulty supporting her if she returned to England, and her aunt would be disappointed if she confessed her dislike for business. Every day she was subjected to what she felt were embarrassing and humiliating experiences. Here was her chance for a respectable release from such a stressful and unhappy situation. William was pressing her to return to England with him to be married there, yet how could she leave without her aunt's approval? If she travelled alone with him, how could she escape the insinuations of impropriety that would be made about them as a result? If she went ahead and married without consent, would not this forever condemn them, cutting them off from their families and friends? As one contemporary writer, Hester Chapone, stressed, "a union formed ... without the sanction of parental approbation, and, consequently, without the blessing of God, can be productive of nothing but misery and shame.'"5 How could a confession of her secret promise to William or a marriage performed by stealth match her own admiration of marriage from a "Nobler cause" than mere novelty? It was no wonder that Anne became ill that summer and "left Boston in search of health which her anxiety had greatly impaired.'"6 By August of 1775, she was back living at her uncle's and evidently feeling much better. Finally, by the end of September, Elizabeth Inman broke the tension by giving her approval to the young couple to sail to England to seek the consent of Anne's father. Anne, ever mindful of her reputation, refused to sail in the same vessel with William without a chaperone. Her caution forced William to make another application to Mrs Inman. His letter, although somewhat effusive, is still rather endearing in its heartfelt appeal:

43 The Founding of a Family Hon'd Madam I have frequently heard an Observation on the selfish principles of our nature but never felt the Force of it so much as at present & hereafter when I hear the Cynic cry the more we have the more we want I shall be able to say Amen - your Goodness last night so overpowered me that I was unable to speak my Gratitude - you must think for me Madam & I am sure you will do me Justice - If unable to thank you for your kind acquiescence last Eveng. how shall I be lost if you grant the Request your past Goodness has encouraged me to make? - your Neice has by her Tenderness been drove to a promise that if ever we were constrain'd to part she would first give me her hand - it was done clandestinely - I have urged this Promise at the present juncture tho not immediately in the Predicament which obliges her to the performance - She throws me on your Mercy & will not comply without your Consent - Consider Madam our situation during the Voyage when a thousand incidents may claim my Interference which without this previous Ceremony cannot be offered - I do not ask you Madam to become an agent in the matter: Anny will be satisfied if you do not oppose & the world shall ever remain ignorant that you are previously acquainted with our proceedings - think with what ardour we love each other & be propitious to the prayer of your most Obliged William Dummer Powell.'7

Anne's good Aunt Elizabeth relented in the face of all this desperate passion and on 3 October 1775 Anne and William were married. The groom was just short of his twenty-first birthday, the bride twenty. Immediately after the ceremony, the newlyweds embarked for England. Anne's confused and unhappy Boston years were over. Never again was she to allow herself to be placed in a position that would in any way compromise her social standing. But the Powells did not travel an easy road to social success, and it was not until almost twenty-five years later that they were to enjoy any real security and lasting social status in their community. Anne and William arrived in England in the fall of 1775. The pair were dismayed to find that William's family at first refused to accept his new bride. Anne had obtained the consent of her father's sister, but William, as he later expressed it, "took the bold step without consulting" his father, who was then still living in Boston.18 There had been tension in the Powell household since the death of his mother. It was expected that William as the eldest would assume a more adult masculine role within his family. His mother's sister, Mrs Champlin, had warned him that now his life must change from what it had formerly been. "Gaiety and dissipation is the common

44 The Lessons of Propriety

resource of Youth," she wrote in late 1774, "but Wisdoms ways only are Ways of Pleasantness; we must look inward for Satisfaction; all outward enjoyments are Delusive and Transitory. Indeed, my Dear Billy, I am anxiously concerned to see you fixed in Business; Heaven has Blessed you with a good Capacity." His duty, his aunt stressed, was clear. "Remember much is required of you, you are the Dependence of a Worthy Family; your Father, Good Man, is fast Hastening down to the Grave, and you have three Defenceless Girls Hanging Fast on you; it is their Brothers must give them Joy and Consequence. Add[ed] to this [you] w[ere] the hopes of the fondest of Mothers, nay I must say further that she has Laid down her Life for you. ... Think seriously my Dear Billy on what I tell you, for certain it is that in doing as far as we are able what is required of us we Lay the only Foundation for Happiness Here and Hereafter.'"9 William's uncle John Grant echoed his aunt's concerns. His mother's standards had given him much to live up to, Uncle John stressed. "So excellent a woman was your mother," he wrote, "surely you may without vanity boast of a parent" so respectable; and bless her memory as often as you reflect how much you have profited by her extraordinary solicitude to have you reared up with knowledge and good qualities." Uncle John did not consider that his sister's job had been completed, however. "Your education indeed fell short of her wishes which in every thing was on a liberal scale." Fortunately, William had "good sense" and "just sentiments" and was "yet young and h[ad] opportunities of improving daily", but he was not considered to be ready to embark on his adult life, let alone support a wife and children. If anyone was to rely upon him, his Uncle John agreed with William's aunt that his own family must come first. "Your good Father is infirm; you should therefore betimes consider yourself as the protector and guardian of your sisters." This was "a delicate and tender charge, and on your management of it much of their happiness, and of your own, will depend."20 Young William's responsibilities brought him considerably less happiness although quite as many burdens as his Aunt Champlin and Uncle John had predicted. His father in time recovered much of his health but not his spirits. This situation was exacerbated by the political tensions in Massachusetts prior to the American Revolution. William did not ask his father's approval before he married because he felt there was "little probability of consent." John Powell "was soured by Disappointment and irritated by the Prospect of losing all in a civil war which there appeared no Design of the King's Servants to put an end to."21 It may have been that the son's lack of settled occupation and the father's refusal to involve him in

45 The Founding of a Family

any vital way in his business interests added to the tension between them. Furthermore, when William attempted to reprove his two younger sisters Margaret and Jane for "levity of conduct," he was met with resistance.22 This would hardly encourage him to adopt the quasi-parental role that his relatives envisioned for him. Of William's family, only his sister Anne was present at the marriage ceremony.23 It would appear that leaving Massachusetts was not just a relief for his bride; it also removed William from unwelcome personal burdens as well as a tense political situation. By marrying in haste and without his father's permission, William had been disobedient, impulsive, and irresponsible, shirking the masculine responsibilities that his relatives had urged him to assume. He had also undertaken marriage with little or no career prospects. As he later admitted, when he and Anne arrived in England as newlyweds, he had "no Money, no Succession, [and] no Profession."24 Anne's brother George later suggested that the Powell family "had never indulged in the idea of an alliance with a family of which its two oldest female members were then only known as the Miss Murrays Milliners and Shopkeepers."25 Whether or not this was the primary reason for John Powell's disapproval, it is true that William's uncle Alexander Grant at first attempted to separate the couple. He proposed that his nephew be sent to work in the West Indies as a clerk to a planter while Anne remained in England. Fortunately, Dr Murray intervened to prevent this separation. He travelled to London in November to meet his "new Son and his new wife" and to see what could be done for them. He was not any happier with the hasty marriage than were the Grants and Powells, but he took a less harsh view of the situation. "There are several circumstances attending this connexion which make one wish it had not so soon taken place," he told his brother James, "but I think those in favour of it will preponderate especially on Mr Powell's side. He seems a good young man unfortunately brought up without a plan of life and without some creditable connexion and parental support would probably have been ruined." William's marriage to Anne, the "remedy he has fallen upon" to his lack of direction, was, in Dr Murray's opinion, "I must confess dangerous to himself and most likely will be some labour." Nonetheless, "I shall most chearfully go through [it] if I find every thing serves for that purpose." Alexander Grant and Anne's father met in London and together worked out William's "plan of life." After some serious discussion, the West Indies plan was rejected, and Dr Murray "then recommended one of the three professions, Divinity, Medicine or Law. After weighing the advantages of these separately and consult-

46 The Lessons of Propriety

ing his [William's] own inclinations, it was agreed to prosecute the last and to commence the plan immediately under my direction."26 The law was a good, solid, upwardly mobile profession for a young middle-class man with aspirations in life.27 Still, before qualifying for his profession, William would be a burden to and responsibility for his father-in-law. "Here I am then embarked in a new sea of trouble," complained Dr Murray, "which I hope nevertheless to wade through & despair not of rendering a well disposed long neglected young man a valuable member of society."28 William appreciated Dr Murray's efforts on his behalf. "This good man," he recalled in his old age, "received us with kindness 8c without reproach, we shared his Board and by his advice I entered myself as a Student in the Middle Temple in February lyyG." 29 This seemed to be a happy solution to a difficult matter. As Anne's brother George later explained, "Mr G[rant] found that his nephew had a home & connexions quite as respectable if not as wealthy as himself." As a result, "Perfect cordiality ensued" and noteworthy Americans such as "Governor Hutchison, Mr Bridgeon & others received and paid the most marked attention & affectionate interest for the happiness of the young married couple." As a consequence, "the West Indies plan was given [up]."3° Anne was overjoyed at her father's reception of them and her reunion with her mother and siblings. She wrote shortly after their arrival in England to her Aunt Elizabeth that "Thirteen days ago I embraced my Dearest Mother and the little ones. My senses for some time could not realize the happiness such a difference of situation [being at home] produced. I only need a knowledge of your safety ... to make me almost completely happy, or at least more so than the generality of mortals."31 Anne's happiness at being newly married, a state highly preferable to that of a shopkeeper, and her delight at being reunited with her family were to evaporate quickly. The news arriving from Massachusetts brought home with a shock the realization that her marriage to William, despite Alexander Grant's acquiescence, was for his family not only a serious transgression of social propriety but also an abandoning of William's duties and responsibilities. He explained this situation in 1775 to Elizabeth Inman. "By public report," William wrote, "I learn that my Father has absolutely renounced me as his son - An[n]y is wretched at the thoughts of such [a] step as she charges herself with being the occasion of it. It required my whole stock of Philosophy to enable me to compose her mind on the receipt of this news." Family disapproval was compounded by scandal. "I feel with pain," William apologized to Aunt Elizabeth, "how much you must have suffered

47 The Founding of a Family

from the idle Tongues of a misjudging People when it was known that you was privy to my Elopement, as I find it stiled in Boston."38 At times their difficult situation was also to prove dispiriting to William as well. Anne complained to Aunt Elizabeth that "despair too often takes possession of my counter part."33 The prospect of being disinherited and disowned fortunately acted as more of a spur than a discouragement to young Powell's efforts to establish himself in the world. He assured Elizabeth Inman of his intention to prove his worth and repay the debt that he felt he owed her family. "A Reflection upon this circumstance will ever influence [me] to actions that may convince the world you did not place your confidence on one totally undeserving." "Heaven grant that my Earnest Endeavours may be crown'd with such success as may enable me to return some part of the vast obligation on some younger branch of the family."34 William's father eventually forgave him for his transgressions, particularly after grandchildren began to appear. By the summer of 1776, James Murray was able to inform the family in America that "Mr Powell has made a genteel settlement on his son."35 The stigma that accompanied Anne and William's "elopement" was not so easily overcome. Almost ten years later, in 1784, William still referred to it in a letter to his Uncle Champlin. Anne was visiting in Boston at that time and William, writing from England, acknowledged that "my late letters from Boston are full of acknowledgement for the kindest personal attentions to my friend." He continued that "the particular circumstances of my Connexion (which nevertheless I shall ever be proud of) occasion me to a higher sense of Gratitude for attentions in that Quarter than if I had complied with the approbation of my friends."36 Anne and William had begun their married life with the feeling that they had a great deal to live down and much to prove concerning their "respectability." William kept his promise to prove himself worthy of Elizabeth Inman's approval. By the spring of 1776, Anne was able to report to her aunt that their situation was improving. "I tell you with pleasure," she wrote, "that the satisfaction my partner gives my friends in his attention to the profession he has chosen gives me great hopes that we may in time arrive at the happy period which will enable him to prove himself not unworthy that friendship you have given us both so many proofs of."37 William's efforts were no doubt spurred on by the rapid arrival of three children. Anne was to prove to be as fertile as her mother had been. On 26 August 1776, barely eleven months after the wedding, she gave birth to a son, diplomatically named John after his two grandfathers. A second boy,

48 The Lessons of Propriety

William Dummer, entered the world on 15 February 1778. A little more than fifteen months later, Anne gave birth to a third son, Grant. In 1779, Anne described herself as "encumbered with domestick inconveniences." She told her American cousins that, could they see her then, they "would see the once careless inattentive Ann Murray, tranform'd into a sedate Matron with three as fine Boys as you ... can produce. ... I am a most fortunate mother, my Children as far as we can judge are healthy, good temper'd & not fools."38 Anne and William had not yet celebrated their fifth wedding anniversary and were already a family of five. The need for some permanent provision for them was clear to the young father, and the Grants came to his aid. William related that, in 1779, "An opening at the bar of Quebec being then made by the return of Wm Grant ... his Uncle Robert Grant ... advised me to avail myself of it and strongly painted the difficulties to be surmounted without Money or Connexions in England before I could expect to obtain Practice there. This consideration had great weight." William borrowed £500 from his father to help him get started, leaving some of the money with Anne and the children in England, "who it was not thought prudent should take such a long voyage until I had made some Establishment for them." The choice of Quebec was a good one for many reasons. William could already speak French with facility and had made some contacts there on his visit in 1773. In addition, "Mr Cumberland, then Under Secretary of State, introduced me to Lord George Germaine, who favoured me with a Letter of... Introduction to the Governor of Quebec."39 Sir Frederick Haldimand was not to give young Powell the greeting he had hoped for. Both William's loyalty and his credentials were called into question. "On my arrival at that Port [Quebec] after a tedious passage of 17 weeks, I had the satisfaction to learn from the mouth of the Governor Sir Fredk Haldimand a Swiss General Officer, that my Country [America] & Profession were equally odious to him & that his Government was already too much disturbed," he recalled with some bitterness. "Although my former visit had provided me with many acquaintances at Quebec & all took a kind part in my affairs I decided not to remain in the City inhabited & ruled by such a Burke.'M° Fortunately, William had other resources, and "through another Channel of Introduction to the Lt Governor Cramahe ..., procured [his] licence to practice." He moved to Montreal where, compensating for his rebuff at Quebec, he "found several Acquaintances who received me with open arms, and one friend in the Commissary I[saac] W[inslow] Clarke." Clarke, the son of a Loyalist Boston

49 The Founding of a Family

merchant, admitted him to his "Society the most respectable of the Place." Not only this, but "I had not been a week in Montreal until I learned that the Heads of Departments were instructed from Headquarters to apply to me for legal advice and assistance." This "unexpected success" allowed Powell, "before the Close of the Navigation, to invite my wife and family to a safe and sure asylum."4' Anne did not leave her Norwich home for Quebec until the next navigation season. She regarded the move with some trepidation. "Next spring I encounter the dangers of the Ocean added to those of War," she wrote in late 1779. "I cross the Atlantic with my children, the only inducement to do it & the only recompence for the hazard is that my Husband wishes it." Anne was a dutiful wife, asserting that "on such terms a East India voyage would lose its horrors."42 In May 1780, Anne embarked with her son William, leaving the youngest, Grant, and the eldest, John, with the Powells and Murrays in England. On her way, Anne's fears were realized when the ship she travelled in was captured by a New England privateer. Fortunately, the prisoners were taken into Boston, which allowed Anne to have a visit with her relatives there.43 Her connections in Boston and William's uncles, both Patriots, were able to secure her speedy release. As Riddell relates, she was even allowed to leave for Quebec "under a cartel, with such English prisoners as she selected."44 Anne had high hopes for their life in Montreal and was sure that her husband "if no unforseen accident happens will there procure every comfort our straiten'd circumstances have hitherto denied us."45 Although William did indeed prosper in his private practice, he was still shunned by Haldimand. He also became increasingly unhappy with the French legal system. In this dissatisfaction he was not alone. Upon the return of peace, William was entrusted with a petition signed by many Loyalists in Canada, asking for a repeal of the Quebec Act and in its place the institution of all aspects of British law. In the summer of 1783, he left the pregnant Anne with her friends in Boston while he sailed for England to present that document. The response to it was not favourable, and, like so many Loyalists, William began to contemplate a return to his native land.46 Anne was only too happy to comply with such a proposal. Her stay at Montreal had been marred by loneliness and grief at the loss of a young baby girl, Anne, who died only a few months after her birth on 21 May 1782. In 1783, according to her brother George, she had written to her aunt saying she "was anxiously hoping for peace on the return of which she contemplated to visit her Boston Friends, & expressed a great desire to be established

50 The Lessons of Propriety there at some future day with her children among her own & the relations of Mr Powell."47 William wisely took advantage of his presence in England to be called to the Bar, but, with Anne's agreement, he began to consider other options. Initially, his attempts at reconciliation with his American relatives were not too successful. From England, he wrote his Uncle Champlin that "It gives me pain to find you have doubts about the sincerity of my Paternal Connexions in Boston in their suppression of Good Wishes for my future Establishment among them." Nevertheless, he was determined to return to Massachusetts: "My heart has ever been in my native soil, and I find that Commerce with the world does not weaken my prejudice."48 Fortunately, William's paternal uncle, Jeremiah Powell, extended a helping hand to William and Anne. John Powell had fled to England during the Revolution, and as a result of his loyalty to the Crown, his property had been confiscated by Congress. This deprived William of his anticipated inheritance. Uncle Jeremiah was advancing in years and had a childless marriage. He proposed, therefore, that the young family come to live on his farm estate in North Yarmouth, Massachusetts, with the idea that his nephew would take over its management and ultimately ownership. When William returned from England, he and Anne moved to the estate with young William and a new son born on 9 January 1784 and named after his great-uncle Jeremiah. Unfortunately, this plan for the Powell family's future was not to succeed. Only a month after their arrival in North Yarmouth on 15 September 1784, Uncle Jeremiah suffered "a Violent Paralytic stroke."49 His condition declined rapidly, and he died a few days later. Over the following months, relations between the Powells and Jeremiah's widow steadily deteriorated, and the arrangement was abandoned. Anne bemoaned the fact "that the sale of our House and Furniture [at Montreal] was completed at a very low rate" in expectation of never returning. "Were things here as we expected I should be glad of it. As it is perhaps it might have been better defer'd. My near neighbourhood to my Beloved Aunt [Elizabeth Inman] - the Hope of having my children about me tempted me to come to this place." Instead, "in the space of a few months I have experienc'd a severe shock at the Death of a respected connexion, & since that period unabated suspence." Their only hope was William's other uncle. "Mr W[illiam] P[owell] promises everything & I hope will not catch the infection from his Sister-in-Law."5° This promise of assistance from Uncle William did not materialize either. William had no legal basis for asserting a claim to Uncle

51 The Founding of a Family

Jeremiah's estate, and the family could hardly remain there against the wishes of his widow. It was finally decided that they would have to return to Montreal. The political situation had improved there for William with the replacement of Haldimand in late 1786 with a new governor, the former Sir Guy Carleton, now Lord Dorchester. As well, some of the drawbacks of the French legal system had been mitigated by a royal decree instituting habeas corpus and trial by jury. Accordingly, in the spring of 1785, the Powell family returned to Canada, turning their backs forever on a life in William's Massachusetts homeland. Back in Montreal, the young lawyer's luck finally seemed to be changing. His legal practice again flourished, and he also enjoyed the confidence of the new governor. Lord Dorchester favoured Powell and asked him to undertake a great deal of government business. William particularly distinguished himself by the skilful way that he placated Loyalist settlers who feared that they would lose title to their land under the seigneurial system. His investigation of a financial crisis resulting from the overextension of government credit to Montreal merchants provisioning British troops during the war, however, made him some enemies. William, like his wife, was a stickler for propriety, and he did not hesitate to condemn those who were at fault, some of whom were judges. When he applied for a grant of land like all the other Loyalists, Justice Mabane opposed it. Once again William's credentials as a loyal supporter of the Crown were called into question. His enemies contended that William's return to Massachusetts in 1784 indicated his support for the rebels. He was easily able to refute these accusations, but they were to return to haunt him throughout his career. In late 1788, he was granted three thousand acres, a compensation in part for government work he had done gratis for Lord Dorchester. Even with the efforts of his enemies to discredit him, Riddell asserts of Powell "That he was at this time ... the foremost advocate at the Montreal Bar."5' In 1789, William's services for his governor were crowned with a patronage appointment. Dorchester thereby promoted his protege at the same time as he removed him from Montreal, placating the offended members of the official elite. In February the young lawyer accepted a judgeship in the newly created District of Hesse in what is now southwestern Ontario, with a salary of £500 a year. The promotion meant that the Powells would have to relocate yet again, this time to Detroit. The move necessitated an arduous journey through miles of wilderness, but, as Anne explained to her brother, it was such a good opportunity for her husband that "you

52 The Lessons of Propriety

will rejoice then at our removal rather than regret the increased distance which divides us."52 The Powells' move was complicated by the fact that the family had become much larger. In the summer of 1786, William's sister, Anne's friend Nancy, had arrived in Montreal with the two boys, John and Grant. On 10 March 1787, Anne had given birth to a girl, named Anne after the baby they had lost. Just before the move to Detroit, on 22 January 1789, Elizabeth was born. With Nancy accompanying them, the family of eight packed up their possessions and once more pulled up roots to move where William's career led them. The local inhabitants of Detroit gave the new judge a warm reception, but their good will was soon to evaporate. William discovered in his capacity as a member of the land board that the Indian Department had illegally purchased land from the local natives. He would not smooth things over by approving these purchases after the fact, so once again he antagonized some members of the local elite. The result was that they communicated their resentment to the Indians, who threatened to kill the new judge and on several occasions accosted Anne and her children, frightening them greatly. This ugly confrontation resulted in the decision that Anne would leave Detroit and return for a longed-for visit to England where she would place the three younger boys in school. With her was her newest baby, Mary Boyles, born on 18 December 1791. William was soon to follow his wife to England. The resentment of the Indian Department was such that a forged letter was circulated, intended, again, to call his loyalty into question. It was written in a very good imitation of Powell's hand (so much so that at first glance he acknowledged it as his own writing) and indicated not only that he was betraying secrets to the Americans but that he was planning to infect the Indians with smallpox. William, unfortunately, could no longer rely on sympathy in high places to protect him from his enemies. Dorchester had returned to England and Colonel John Graves Simcoe had recently arrived to become the lieutenantgovernor of the new province of Upper Canada. Enmity between Simcoe and Dorchester caused the new lieutenant-governor to view William with suspicion. Dorchester had recommended that William be first choice for inclusion in the new Executive Council of Upper Canada.53 Simcoe ignored this advice. When William was passed over for the high office that Dorchester had proposed, it was clearly time for him to seek help from his friends in Britain. Late in 1792, William joined Anne and the children in England. In the spring of 1793, they returned to Upper Canada, evidently reassured that Powell still retained his good name in official circles.

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Fortunately, they were not to reside at Detroit for very much longer. Negotiations were under way to accomplish the transfer of the fort to the Americans, as agreed by treaty at the end of the Revolutionary War. As a consequence, William's judgeship there was soon to be phased out. In 1794, the family moved to Niagara, where William took up a new position, grudgingly conceded to him by Simcoe, as a puisne judge of the Court of the King's Bench. The seat of government was, after years of uncertainty, finally moved permanently to York in 1803; the Powells followed in early i8o4-54 William's fortunes were still not to improve, however. For two years, from 1794 to 1796, he was acting chief justice of Upper Canada, only to be passed over in favour of an Englishman, John Elmsley. This was a great blow, making him "conscious of the many obstacles placed in the way of my advancement."55 William demanded and got leave to travel once again to England. Simcoe was obviously not going to help him, and he decided at least to seek some payment for his past duties. As one observer, Hannah Jarvis, commented, "Judge Powell is going home, it is thought in disgust at having one put over his Head."56 When he returned to Upper Canada in 1797, William had been somewhat successful in his endeavours. He had received financial compensation for his extra work as acting chief justice and won an increase in salary to £750. However, the chief justiceship was to elude him for another twenty years until, under the patronage of Lieutenant-Governor Francis Gore, this ambition was finally satisfied. The years between 1775 and 1800 were fraught with insecurity, setbacks, and thwarted ambition for William. Anne, in particular, found the constant moving difficult. With such a large number of children, uprooting on average every three years - each time invariably with a new baby - must have been, at best, extremely awkward. Anne's childbearing years finally came to an end in 1794, when she gave birth for the ninth and last time on 25 October, to a son, Thomas William. Exacerbating the difficulties of the constant moving and disappointments she suffered as a result of her husband's chequered career were their frequent separations. William and Anne were parted by the Atlantic on four different occasions and his business often took him away from home on shorter trips to attend district courts. It is no wonder that her letters during this period often express an acute sense of loneliness. During these times of isolation, Anne turned, as she had as a teenager in Boston, to other women for help and support. Her sister-in-law Anne, her "Nancy," was, until Nancy's early death in childbirth in 1792, her most intimate friend. When they were first

54 The Lessons of Propriety

separated by Anne and William's marriage, Nancy wrote that she was longing "to unburden my full heart in the gentle bosom of my Anne."57 Shortly after the arrival of John Powell and his daughters as refugees in England, Nancy joyfully anticipated her reunion with Anne. "I can live no longer without seeing Anne," she wrote to her brother; "my heart is full of a thousand little things and follies that I can express to none but her - poor little Girl, what a deluge of nonsense shall I pour upon her when we meet. You, my dear Sir, will be turned out of the Room & think yourself happy if I suffer you to sleep in your own bed. I hope Anne keeps you in good order, if not I shall take you down for her."58 Their reunion in England must have been a happy one for the two Annes. Throughout the years that they both spent in England, they saw each other as often as their separate family responsibilities would admit. Nancy, being unmarried and living upon her father's income and under his protection, was not permitted to move around freely without escort. Anne, being married, was tied to her home and family. They provided important support to each other whenever they were able to snatch time for a visit. On one such occasion, Nancy wrote jubilantly to William, "I feel myself extremely gay at the prospect of meeting you, and my dear Ann. The time that we have been separated appears very tedious. The sweet boys are not forgot," she assured him. "I long to embrace them. Whatever is our situation we shall be happy together. The tender friendship we bear each other must ever be the source of pleasure. I can with truth declare it has been the principal happiness of my life, and I trust that no length of years can interrupt it."59 It was unfortunate for Nancy and Anne that William's move to Quebec was to part them. Still, it was some consolation that Anne was to remain behind for a time in England while her husband established himself in his career. Nancy's letter to her brother approving of his decision does not hide her joy at the continued presence of her dear friend. "I congratulate you, my brother, upon having conquered all the difficulties attending your going to Quebec, and am happy in the prospect of your success. Everything conspires to introduce you there to advantage and I am inclined to think this is the happy moment of your fate. - I had a thousand fears lest you should resent having consented to leave Anne behind, allow me to say I am pleased with your conduct - and am more convinced of your affection to your wife than ever I was - I thought you had loved her for your own sake, but you have now proved it is for herself - She will do you justice, and thank you for an exertion

55 The Founding of a Family

of resolution that will be to her advantage. ... I faithfully promise to contribute all in my power to Anne's happiness in your absence."60 Anne and Nancy's eventual separation in 1780 must have been difficult for both of them. Anne was not only leaving "the tenderest Parents that have ever existed," but also her close friend. "Nancy says she shall suffer most" by her departure, Anne wrote to her cousins, "her Friendship is increas'd by the name of Sister - she if possible is more amicable than ever."6' Nancy was somewhat compensated for the loss of her friend by being entrusted with the care of John and Grant. For Anne, the move to Montreal meant not only being in a strange new country but also leaving behind the close relationships that were so important to her. William remembered later that Anne's arrival "enlarged my circle in Montreal, and for three years we passed an enviable course of happiness, esteemed and respected." He may have remembered them as happy years, but Anne did not. She missed her family, her friends, and her two boys still in England. In addition, she was crushed by the death of her baby girl at the age of eight months. When the Revolutionary War ended in 1783, she anxiously looked forward to seeing her old friends in the United States. Anne was only too happy to remain at Boston while William presented his petition in England. She hoped that he would not return alone. "I have letters from Mr P.," she told her cousin Betsey. "He was well & in expectation of bringing his sister Nancy with him. If my sister Eliza joins the party, my return to Canada will be deprived of that Gloom which would accompany its near approach. But I can scarcely indulge such sanguine expectations, the accomplishment of them appears to me more than I can have a right."63 Anne's forlorn prediction of the futility of her hopes was accurate, for William returned from England without Nancy or Eliza. Her disappointment was somewhat mitigated by the new plan to move to North Yarmouth rather than return to Montreal. Initially, Anne was very pleased at their new circumstances. She wrote to her Aunt Elizabeth shortly after her arrival in Massachusetts, assuring her "that I am well and as much pleased with my situation and prospects as her affection could desire. I parted from you with an Heart overflowing with gratitude for your unlimited & Constant goodness to me and those who are more precious than myself. ... Natural as was the sensation of Regret I overcame it by reflecting on the blessing I was still to possess by being much nearer than I ever had reason to expect." Anne had hoped to have the "as yet unknown pleasure of receiving you & Mr Inman next spring under

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my own roof and being gratified by your united approbation of a place which in its present neglected state is I think beautiful and which I hope in a month will wear a much more inviting aspect."64 This was not to be, however, and as the family tensions heightened Anne felt increasingly isolated. "My sister Eliza was all I could wish," she complained to Aunt Elizabeth, "to have her under my roof has been my favourite plan ever since our fortunes wore the appearance of prosperity. At no period of my life could her presence be more desirable." It was unusual for Anne to be without a female companion. She complained that "in the various changes I have known there never was a time when in a few minutes I could not procure the conversation of a female whose sentiments were similar to my own. Out of my own house there is not a person within twelve miles that I can call a Companion." Nor did her domestic life provide sufficient compensation for this lack. "And happy as a promising family can make a Mother," she complained, "I sometimes feel a weariness of Spirit which cannot be avoided."65 Anne's relatives in Boston were too far away to make visits convenient, despite repeated invitations such as Anne's assurance to her cousin Dorothy Forbes in January of 1785 that "one of the greatest pleasures I anticipate in the approaching summer is the hope of having your company at any part of the season that will be most convenient for you."66 When William left on a business trip to Boston in 1785, she was reluctantly forced to remain behind with the children. Fortunately, Anne's brother George, alone of all the family, had joined them at North Yarmouth and this offered her some consolation. She explained to Dorothy that "but for my Brother's presence my situation would be dreary indeed."67 "George is one of the kindest of Brothers," Anne wrote to her aunt, "& gives me all his time he can spare. ... He participates in every uneasiness I feel & either reads or converses with me in our solitary evenings." It was during this period that Anne and George laid the basis for what was to be a lifelong friendship. At the time, however, she felt that confining her brother to her household was unfair to an energetic, active young man. What would have been a shared and enjoyed seclusion for her and her sister she feared would be perceived as an imposition on a man. Anne concluded that "nothing but his affection could make such a life Tolerable."68 Anne's isolation was aggravated by domestic problems. She discovered soon after her arrival that the quality of domestic help was very poor at North Yarmouth. Conditions there were not what she was used to. She complained to her aunt that "tho' I rise before seven every morning, [I] do not find time to attend to anything but

57 The Founding of a Family

domestic matters. My Maid is too dirty to cook or hold the Child." She could find no servant at North Yarmouth who could meet her standards and so was "obliged" to do much of the work herself. "I must get some sort of a woman from Boston," she wrote urgently, "and should like a black one. If there was a chance of finding one of the color, a tolerable cleanly cook and capable of house work, should such a one offer I could wish to have her at any rate."69 Presumably, the black servant would be a domestic who would know her place. The conservative, class-conscious Anne was offended by the rough equality of rural North Yarmouth and blamed her servants' lack of respect and the difficulty of obtaining good help on the recent American Revolution. By 1785, she had totally given up on the local servants. "I have been without any but Betsey [a servant from Boston] above a fortnight and am determined to continue so rather than endeavour to hire one of this country. The Pride of Independence is so prevalent here that People had rather starve at home than live in my kitchen in plenty. Was I to take them to my table they would have no objection to oblige me."7° This would be an unthinkable transcending of class barriers from Anne's point of view. Anne not only found that the servants of North Yarmouth failed to meet her high standards. The local "society" was also decidedly inferior to that of London, Boston, or Montreal. "I returned this day from Falmouth after a stay of five days," she related on one occasion to her cousin Dorothy. "The intention of my visit was to see Mrs Robison & to make my appearance at an assembly which they have every Thursday. I had there an opportunity of seeing the society but do not think it superior to that in Montreal. The Females may be equal, but the Gentlemen are of a different order of Being."71 Clearly, Anne preferred the style of life of a society ordered by British rules of behaviour. North Yarmouth could not match these standards of middle-class propriety. The final blow that severed any tie to the United States for Anne was the death of Elizabeth Inman. Early in 1785, she received word that her aunt was seriously ill. By April, it had become clear that she could not recover, and Anne moved to Boston to be at her deathbed. Her cousins Elizabeth and Dorothy were with her, and together they nursed the friend who had been so concerned about their welfare when they were young girls. They all felt a strong affection for her, even Anne, who had suffered from what she had considered to be Aunt Elizabeth's "ill judgement." Aunt Elizabeth died on 25 May 1785, leaving a great void in their lives. "Oh Polly," Betsey wrote to her cousin at Norwich, "Heaven grant that you may be long exempt from the Pangs of attending the dying bed of a

58 The Lessons of Propriety

friend & such a friend, weeks of preparation for this awful event were not sufficient to fortify my mind."72 With the loss of her beloved aunt, it seemed to Anne that there was little to hold her in Massachusetts. With the situation so tense and uncertain at North Yarmouth following Uncle Jeremiah's death, there could also be no hope of combating her loneliness by reuniting her family there. As she had written earlier that year, she was "anxious for the society of all of my children."73 Accordingly, in the fall of 1785, Anne gladly followed her husband back to Montreal, now a more attractive proposition than it had been two years earlier. The following summer, after six years of separation, Anne was finally reunited with her boys John and Grant, escorted to Canada by their Aunt Nancy. The domestic circle was now full. "You will suppose that cares of my family are employment enough for me," Anne wrote to her cousin Betsey. "The management of my four Boys require constant exertion and my little Pet [Anne] is all my reward for it."74 Anne finally felt that she had settled down permanently. Montreal society was now much more agreeable than it had been in 1783. The arrival of many more loyal refugees quite likely had altered the social tone of the city by 1786. Anne assured Dorothy that "the attention paid us has far exceeded my expectations 8c I am perfectly content to pass as many year as it shall please Providence to assign me. ... This country is infinitely improved since I left it. The Climate is I think far superior to yours. Everything except House rent is more reasonable & people are as sociable as they wish to be."75 The years that Anne spent at Montreal she later called "some of the most happy portions of my life."76 When the Powells moved to the Western District in 1789, Anne was not to enjoy the social life that she had at Montreal. Soon after their arrival at Detroit, the family moved to a new house at the sparsely settled Petit C6te, across the river near present-day Sandwich.77 The political hostility William encountered was reinforced for Anne by the extreme isolation of living in the westernmost part of the province. It was with relief that she departed this wilderness setting. Few of the letters she wrote before 1800, during these unsettled and difficult times, have survived. Naturally as the mother of a large and growing young family, she would have had very little time for correspondence. As her sister Mary observed after her first child, John, was born, Anne's "writing days are over."78 In addition, she was preoccupied with the stresses of the frequent moving necessitated by her husband's numerous career changes. Every time it appeared that their fortunes were improving, William's insistence on the strict letter of the law would again plunge him into disfavour.

59 The Founding of a Family

Anne was left to deal with their constant changes of residence and her husband's absences and preoccupation with the vicissitudes of his career as well as she was able. In addition to her reliance on female support and friendship, in public she relied on the standards of propriety. In society, her response to the shifts of fortune she and William faced was always to behave with the utmost decorum. Everywhere she went, her proper behaviour was commented on. When she was taken captive in 1780, her Uncle James wrote, "I have heard of her and her son's safe arrival at Quebec with great econiums from the Passengers of her very agreeable Behaviour during both Passages, which in the last was the more remarkable by being contrasted on board."79 One of her fellow prisoners, Miss Walker, wrote to Elizabeth Inman, "I have the satisfaction to inform you, that Mrs Powell is happily situated at Montreal, she is one of the best of Women, it was with the greatest Regret, that I parted with her."80 Even her own sister Mary spoke of "her graceful person and pleasing manners."81 William also recognized that his wife's behaviour was a great asset to him. He wrote that she "added to my friends at Montreal by Manners and Conduct which have ever assured Respect."82 Thomas Astin Coffin agreed with William's assessment. "I have met with Mr & Mrs Powell," he wrote from Montreal in 1787 to his mother in Boston. "I did not know much of her at Boston, but she is really a clever Woman - she is surrounded by a house full of Children, which she brings up with vast propriety."83 John Graves Simcoe may have neglected and snubbed William, but his wife Elizabeth thought a great deal of Anne. In 1795, after the Powells had moved to Niagara, the two women met. Afterwards, as recorded in Mrs Simcoe's famous diary, the lieutenant-governor's wife often called upon Anne. "I rode in the evening to drink tea with Mrs Powell ... who was alone," reads a typical entry. "She is a very sensible pleasant woman."8/l Elizabeth found Anne to be an excellent companion, declaring that her "company is very pleasant to me."85 Clearly, Anne knew how to behave properly in the best society. Anne's response to the harping insecurity of life with William was to overcompensate with an extreme emphasis on propriety. In the face of controversy, misfortune, and disappointment, she could still command respect as a proper lady. Anne became, at least publicly, the ideal wife, mother, and chatelaine. Only her close female friends and her brother George had any idea of her true feelings. Although she had put the social humiliation of her Boston millinery career behind her, Anne was not to forget the experience. Whatever happened, she would never again allow herself to be compromised. Her

6o The Lessons of Propriety

ideals of female propriety often jarred uncomfortably with the reality of her physical and social surroundings, but these contradictions seemed only to reinforce her attitudes. Her heightened consciousness of her social position hardened into a conservatism that was later in life to become an inflexible coat of armour shielding her from the world. Nowhere is this aspect of Anne's character more clearly revealed than when the Powells settled in the hothouse society of the early Upper Canadian elite at Niagara and more especially, at York.

3 Establishing Social Status: Anne Powell and York Society

When Anne and William moved to York from Niagara in 1798, they were in their forties with a large family of growing and adult children. William had at first resisted the move, not wishing to cooperate with Simcoe, who had passed over him when forming the new Executive Council. It has been thought that William deliberately named his Niagara home Mount Dorchester in order to irritate the new lieutenant-governor, who resented and disliked his predecessor.1 It must have seemed ridiculous to William to move the centre of the colony's administration to what was no more than a military outpost in the middle of the wilderness. All of the governing class gave up comfortable homes and established lives at Niagara to move to York upon Simcoe's insistence, and they were none too pleased at this turn of events. But the lieutenant-governor's word was law, and if members of the elite wanted to have a role in Upper Canadian government, they had to be at its centre. The elite at York formed a very small and insular community during the first thirty years of settlement. In 1797, including children and servants, York's population was just under 250. It did not exceed 500 until iSog.2 By 1827, there were still less than 2,000 persons living at York.3 Not only was this society small, it was also narrowly focused. The business of government was the only occupation available and the sole source of opportunity and advancement. One did not get ahead in such a system on the basis of mere talent and hard work. In order to be successful in his career, a man had to fit in, have the ear of the right people, and have a wife and

6a The Lessons of Propriety

family who could withstand the intense scrutiny of small-town life and make him respected socially. He could not get in a good position, as may have been possible for later generations, by doing well on civil service exams, but only by being able to gain the patronage of those in power. If the lieutenant-governor and his circle were against him, the only recourse would be to appeal higher up the hierarchy to well-placed friends in Britain. William was to do this several times during his career, which saw him continually being passed over for the chief justiceship in favour of men with lesser qualifications but better connections. Despite the conservative nature of York politics, fortunes could and did change with alarming speed. Lieutenant-governors came and went, and careers rose and fell depending on their successors. As Edith Firth has observed, for the upper class, "The insecurity of their positions and their isolation from direct outside influence made them an inbred group, placing tremendous emphasis on trivialities. Divided by their intense rivalry and by differences of outlook and background, they were united in their opinion of their own importance."4 Small differences were magnified all out of proportion in such an insular society: friends changed into enemies, and resentments became feuds seemingly overnight. The polished surface of this extremely status-conscious group was in fact only a thin veneer that was easily cracked. This was very clearly revealed in the social life of the elite. Their many parties, dinners, and balls were not mere diversions but battlegrounds upon which fights over social position were won and lost. The wives and daughters of the men who governed Upper Canada may have been excluded from the sphere of politics and law, but in this public social realm their role was crucial. A man whose wife lost in the social stakes would suffer a serious blow to his advancement. Despite its small size and isolated setting, York must have been as stressful and competitive as any major urban centre in the eighteenth-century world.5 Indeed, tension had been brewing among the official set ever since their first arrival at Niagara. Lieutenant-Governor John Graves Simcoe and his wife, Elizabeth, entertained on a lavish scale, especially remarkable considering that they were at first living in tents and log cabins. On 4 June 1793, the King's Birthday was celebrated with a levee at eleven, a firing of cannon from the troops, the battery, and a ship in the harbour at one, and finally a "splendid ball" in the evening with "about twenty well-dressed, handsome ladies, and about three times that number of gentlemen present."6 The ladies at such events were typically adorned with "a great display of gauze, feathers and velvet."7 Beneath this attractive scene,

63 Establishing Social Status

however, undercurrents of conflict flowed. Wealthy merchants such as Robert Hamilton resented Simcoe's assumption of the leadership of the colony. At this particular gathering, in accordance with the formality of the occasion, the Simcoes proposed to open the dancing with a minuet. Strict rank was observed on these occasions. "Mrs Hamilton was Lady Present," while Hannah Jarvis, "Mrs Secretary," was "second in command." Normally, Lady President would have commenced the dancing, but, as Hannah Jarvis related, "I was called on to open the Ball - Mrs Hamilton not chusing to dance a minuet." Hannah's embarrassment was great when "not one in the Room followed my example - of Course Country dances commenced."8 Such petty awkwardness and humiliations were common among the Upper Canadian elite. At times conflict could flourish in an even more virulent form. The following winter of 1794, "several Libels or Squibs" were anonymously posted. One particularly nasty diatribe called "in question the Characters of John and Eliza Small - the family of McDonal[d]s - the Atty Gnl - Dr & Mrs Macaulay & Mr Tick[nell]," Simcoe's assistant secretary. This slanderous posting was "written in stile of a Play - 'Called the Beggars Opera or Highland Farce as performed at Navy Hall (alias the Chief Justice's Long Room) by the Medicant Society.' " It is indicative of the tensions among the official elite that they immediately accused one of their own number of perpetrating the satire. Hannah's husband, William Jarvis, was the suspected author, "and they absolutely went so far as to prosecute him for it," she related.9 Jarvis was indignant at this accusation and was not appeased when the suit was quietly dropped. He was determined to force the issue and created a terrible scene. "Now was my time," he felt, once the danger of prosecution was over. "I dashed at the whole phalanx." Jarvis challenged several other members of the elite, demanding that they either recant or face him in combat. Only "Young [Lieutenant] Ticknell ... had the courage to fight me like a man. The high-Sheriff by name Alex. McDonald and a halfpay lieutenant came forward and read my letter in public and apologized sentence by sentence, which were my conditions of pardon." Others fled to the house of the chief magistrate and receivergeneral, who "came walking through the mud to solicit peace, he kept me nearly an hour of a cold Sunday morning in the office and at length I told him his arguments did not weigh the balance of a feather with me." The chief magistrate was followed the next day by William Dummer Powell, "praying for peace but to no effect. The consequence was that they arrested me to make me give sureties to keep the peace. This they could not effect because I was obstinate ...

64 The Lessons of Propriety

that I had been insulted and expected satisfaction. The Sherriff was ashamed to commit me and at length was obliged to sneak off and leave me to myself to my immortal credit and their shame." Jarvis noted with satisfaction that "Such a scene of confusion as Newark was in, an instance never before seen in so small a town."10 Hannah Jarvis seems to have thought that there was nothing in her husband's behaviour that was inappropriate. After all, she explained to a correspondent, "I am sure you as well as I know he never had a turn for such a thing - more Particularly any thing so completely blackguard as this was."" Among the many sources of conflict among the elite was the fact that the British-born tended to look down on Loyalist Americans such as Jarvis and Powell. When Simcoe left in 1796, Hannah Jarvis hoped that he would not return. "Let us have a Man," she wrote, "who is fond of Justice - He has set his face against all Americans Mr Russell and Mr White think that an American knows not how to speak."12 The Jarvises felt particularly hard done by and were upset when the receiver-general, Peter Russell, became interim administrator in 1796. Hannah complained that he and his friends monopolized the administration and granted themselves great tracts of land, and that he called "counsils of Convenience" naming "those he would wish to have - they do - they undo - they go - and all is as they would leave it to be - they take and help themselves, their Wives, their Sisters, their Children, their favorite servants to 1200 acres - but the Secretaries Children are only intitled to 400."'3 Hannah concluded that "In short it is generally understood that Mr Russell, Mr Smith, Mr White and Wm Dickson are all in Partnership, for such gross inprisedented Actions Pass in Council Daily, by the happy truce of Convenience."1^ It is interesting that John White, the attorney-general, who, according to Hannah, was highly favoured at the expense of her own husband, also felt slighted. Evidently White had his eye on the vacant office of chief justice but heard that Henry Allcock was to be preferred over him. "I am afraid that the promises made to him are insurmountable obstacles to me," he wrote in 1799; "this is depressing - these Gentlemen are enjoying the smoothness of their situation by my labour - it will make one lukewarm in public service, spite of all principle."'5 When General Peter Hunter held the position of lieutenant-governor from 1799 to 1805, the tensions in York society were not relieved. Hannah Jarvis grudgingly conceded that "The Chief is as great a tyrant as the Governor, but not so great a blackguard." Prejudice against Americans continued, however. "The language held," she wrote, "is that Americans are not trustworthy, they are only fit for hewers of

65 Establishing Social Status

timber and drawers of water."16 It would appear that conflict and envy reigned supreme in all factions of the Upper Canadian elite. Even religion was seen as a site for the struggle to gain social ascendancy. Anglicanism dominated York society and all members of the elite were at least nominally church members. This was a worldly and sophisticated group of parishioners who were not unduly concerned about the state of their immortal souls. When their grand new Anglican church was built in 1807, for example, most of York's citizens were more interested in its social value than its religious aspect. Indeed Anne was mainly concerned that it was "a good building," that "Mrs Gore [the lieutenant-governor's wife] is to give a Bell, the Governor give an handsome Pulpit," and especially that "we have decidedly the best pew in it."17 The minister, the Reverend George Stuart, was, according to his father, "in a very Disagreeable Situation; with a good Portion of Zeal and laudable intentions he finds the Spheres of his usefulness so small, on account of the want of even the Appearance of Religion [in] the higher ranks of his Parishioners." Stuart was "tempted to despond," his father observed. "Indeed a more lukewarm set of Christians (if they can at all be so called) can scarcely elsewhere be found." The private moral practices of some members of the York elite may in fact have been questionable. "In that small Place, not less than six kept Mistresses may be counted; and I believe, not a Gentleman, except Mr Small, professes our religion."18 Such scandalous behaviour may indeed have been as widespread as Stuart suggested, but it is unlikely that such mistresses would have been acknowledged openly among the genteel of York society. Social propriety was rigidly observed there. It may have consisted more of form than content, but a member of the York elite overlooked it at his, or especially her, peril. It was into this highly unpleasant political and social milieu that the Powells moved when they relocated from Niagara just before the start of Hunter's regime. Hunter initially took a liking to William and even asked him for legal advice. It seems that he wished to rule the province from a residence in Quebec. Powell undiplomatically provided the blunt but truthful answer that this would be illegal, and lost Hunter's favour. Hunter ignored Powell's advice in any case.19 Henry Allcock, as White had predicted, succeeded to the chief justiceship. Even though William had once again, as he had from 179410 1796, assumed all the legal duties of the province following Allcock's departure in 1804, he was still passed over. Thomas Scott, the attorney-general, became the new chief justice in 1806. Of these years when he continued to be out of

66 The Lessons of Propriety

favour, William recalled that, "with a bare salary of £750 per ann. by steady dunning, I supported a decent appearance and became perfectly satisfied with my Situation."20 It is surprising that this salary should be described as "bare" when one takes into consideration historian Peter Russell's contention that as little as £300 was considered a very good salary in York from 1815 to 1840.*' But it would have cost a lot of money to keep up with the York elite's ideas of maintaining a "decent appearance," with its attendant need for servants and lavish entertaining, in a wilderness setting. Edith Firth has estimated, for example, that the cost of building even a modest house in York in 1803 would be around £i,ooo.22 Still, compensating for what he saw as his financial and political disadvantages, William felt that he was virtually the sole upholder of proper standards. As he related, "excluded from both the councils, and in a subaltern Seat on the Bench, the Public nevertheless continued to look up to me for its Chief Support."23 Anne agreed, writing in 1804 that, although they had "many wants," they had "the satisfaction of being apparantly respected by a society tho' not large yet equal to any expectations you might form in a new country."2/1 By the close of Hunter's regime, the political and social situation of the Powells had worsened. In the summer of 180e a new puisne judge, Robert Thorpe, and a new surveyor-general, C.B. Wyatt, arrived from Great Britain with their families. Hunter died in 1805; his successor as interim administrator, General Alexander Grant, was ineffective and unable to control the controversy that erupted. Thorpe and Wyatt combined with Joseph Willcocks and William Weekes, a sheriff and attorney respectively. Together they attacked Hunter's inept regime, creating many enemies and splitting even further York's political and social life.25 The Thorpes took up residence near the Powells and, from the first, offended Anne's sense of the respect due her social position. Rather than call upon her themselves, as was expected of one's social equals or inferiors, they first sent their servants over to borrow "necessaries." This was taken as an insult, implying that they were of too high a status to visit Anne personally and that she was closer to the social level of their domestics. Rather than return Anne's calls, they behaved as superiors would by inviting her to their home. Such slights were not to be countenanced, as Anne complained to her brother George in November 1805. "We have little chance of any inducements to wish a residence at York, except those that we find at our own fireside. I do not consider the newcomers as any addition to our society, Indeed I have no intercourse with them. Our neighbours [the Thorpes] give public dinners twice

67 Establishing Social Status

a week. I had the honour of an invitation to one, but as the Lady knew I never accepted such invitations, & she has not thought proper to return the calls I made ... I consider her inviting me at all as a piece of insolence, & rejected it accordingly, accustom'd to proper respect from those, who are consider'd by me as their superiors. I feel no inclination to submit to their caprice to determine when I am & when I am not to be honor'd by their notice, & tho in public, it is my principle to avoid every thing like incivility, some concessions must be made before these good people are considered as my private acquaintance."86 As Anne pointed out, "If I forget what is due to myself I have no right to censure anyone for not recollecting it." Underlying this seemingly confident assertion of her own social status, however, lurked the insecurity about her position that she was never able to eradicate throughout her life. The insults that she felt she had received from the Thorpes and the Wyatts underlined an uneasy feeling that she had about her social inadequacies. The newcomers arrived with all the polish and flair of recent residents of England, and she felt uncivilized in comparison. "You anticipated my Dear Brother many innovations from these new residents in our savage Country & were not mistaken," she related to George. "The barbarity of our manners, would by degrees become if not refined at least tolerable, were we taught with moderation, - but an attempt to effect a sudden & entire change will I fear but harden us in error & the blaze of elegance so new to us will perhaps dazzle our weak sight." Obviously, the new set flaunted their comparative elegance, fresh from the fashionable circles of London, perhaps even mocking the rude North American manners of York society. "A display less splendid, would have enabled us to behold, & in time imitate & by the end of the season the benefits arising from gentle tuition would have been perceptible to others, & of importance to ourselves," Anne complained. Revealing her insecurity, she observed that "Even your old Sister, might have taken advantage of these invaluable lessons, & become a companion for an higher order of Beings than the Savages with whom she has so long associated."*7 The dazzling newcomers fractured York with their selective choice of associates. Although they snubbed Anne and William, they assiduously courted the Russells. Elizabeth Russell related that not only did they call on her, "They seemed very desirous that we should visit them to join their dinner & evening parties."28 In contrast to Anne, she commented that the Thorpes "seemed to be a free mannered unreserved people and not formal."29 Clearly, they behaved differently with those that they considered to be their

68 The Lessons of Propriety

equals. Anne felt herself to be increasingly socially isolated, and she blamed the Thorpes for it. She complained that "now we are reduced so much [socially], that we rarely pass a chearful evening. We have no kind neighbours to brave bad roads or bad weather & enliven the hours from six to eleven. Visits of ceremony are too tedious to be frequent, & indeed the newcomers have done so much toward interrupting public meetings, that we had nearly given up the expectation of receiving amusement from the only entertainment in which the whole town unites." Anne pretended that she did not really care about her social exclusion. "The follies of little York will if we meet serve to you who know us, for an hour's ridicule," she wrote to George. "The Ball which the President [Grant] gives to morrow in honour of the Queen, will I doubt not add to my budget." As always at the social events of York, mere pleasure was not the highest item on the agenda. Anne anticipated that, at the Ball, "rank will be settled & I fear some who claim precedence, will find themselves of less importance than they expect. For me I am fortunately out of the scrape," she wrote with feigned indifference. "I shall get my Rubber [of whist], & whether I eat my supper at the upper or lower end of the table, is a matter of the most perfect indifference, perhaps my Neighbour will feel more interest, as wherever I am, she is below me."3° Social occasions at York had now become virtual battlegrounds. Two weeks later, Elizabeth Russell reported that "there was some affront given at the Ball last night some thing about a supper being there and some of the Company not asked."3' This touchy atmosphere finally came to a crisis in 1807, when Thorpe and Wyatt found that the political and social tide was turning against them. The glittering set that had impressed everyone when they arrived in 1805 now, according to Anne, began to show their true natures. She wrote that Thorpe was "so lost to decency [that he] introduces his Wife & Daughters to such company, as the decent Farmers will not associate with."32 Even the Reverend George Stuart, who had originally favoured the newcomers, was now, according to Anne, shown the error of his ways. When he questioned their conduct, the Thorpes reacted in a hostile manner and the friendship was "concluded by a Letter from Mrs T[horpe] to Mrs S[tuar]t, which would not have disgraced a fair inhabitant of Billingsgate. For this no one pities them," Anne remarked with satisfaction. "These people who ought to have known better were flatter'd into devotion to these newcomers & I believe we shall hear no more sermons designed to censure the illiberal conduct of the Congregation towards this righteous Judge." Social conflict in York had reached such an

6g Establishing Social Status

extreme pitch that Anne felt that "we are really growing too bad & unless some change for the better takes place, a residence here, would be a most severe punishment more formidable than transportation to Botany Bay. Mr Cartwright says York abounds in good Dinners, & whoever loves a dish of scandal is sure to be gratified."33 The social strife and scandalmongering that was rife in York is perhaps best illustrated by an incident that Anne became closely involved in as a third party. This particular contretemps started in the early days at Niagara and continued to cause social upheaval well into Lieutenant-Governor Gore's regime. When he and Mrs Gore arrived in 1806 to take the reins of government from the undistinguished Alexander Grant, they were determined to put an end to the contention that divided "little York." Anne had, by this point, stopped attending social gatherings. The pain of social exclusion had been redoubled by a series of personal tragedies. In 1801, her second eldest son, William, had eloped with a bride his parents considered unsuitable. The family rift had still not healed when he drowned in 1803. A year later, Thomas, the youngest, died at the age of nine while on a visit to the Cartwright family in Kingston. A final blow occurred in 1806 when Jeremiah, a reckless twenty-yearold, left his post as apprentice merchant in New York to make a quick fortune in politically turbulent Haiti and Venezuela. This was ultimately to land him in jail in 1806 under a life sentence for treason passed upon him by the Spanish government. It was some consolation to Anne in the midst of these trials that she was flattered by Gore's "particular request, that I would sacrifice my private feelings to the duty I owed society, & consent to go [to social gatherings] with my family." Anne was reluctant, but Gore had "it so much at Heart to do away the remembrance of the disgraceful contentions of the last Winter, that he determines to sanction by his presence all innocent amusements & to use his influence with the most respectable to persuade their uniting with him. Thus urged I comply."34 Anne attended several parties with her daughters as a result of this appeal, but, not two months later, all the gaiety stopped short. After accepting an invitation to a grand ball being given at the lieutenant-governor's in honour of the Queen, Anne "found that a Lady who had been uniformly rejected as unfit for decent society was to be there." She felt that she had no option but to refuse to attend. The lady in question was Elizabeth Small, the wife of John Small, the clerk of the Executive Council. Even after Chief Justice Thomas Scott personally urged that she should at least let her daughters attend, Anne refused. Nor could Mrs Gore change Anne's mind when she paid her the unusual compliment of a visit. "I was

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surprised to see Mrs Gore herself the morning of the Ball," Anne related. "She came deputed by the Govr, to urge my going if it was but for one hour, only to make my appearance, wrapp'd up in my Furs or any way I pleas'd. I acknowledged her kind condescension, but it was impossible to comply." The reason given for this refusal was a higher consideration than the request of the lieutenantgovernor. Anne would not attend because of what she referred to as "a sense of propriety." She acknowledged Mrs Gore's favour by returning her call but was determined to "be very candid." Anne was now certain that, on this issue at least, she knew what the correct social behaviour should be. As she explained, "Nothing has taken place, to remove the imputations cast on this wretched Female, & nothing shall ever induce me; to introduce my Daughters to doubtful characters or to show them, that however violently resented a deviation from Virtue may be at the moment it is discover'd, time will overcome indignation & restore to respectable society a Woman who by criminal conduct, had forfeited her right to it. ... While my conduct is regulated by principle, I am fearless of censure."35 The train of events that resulted in the unfortunate Mrs Small's exclusion from polite company had begun in 1799, at one of the elite's many social gatherings. Peter Russell wrote in February 1800 that "it seems in the Course of last winter Mrs Small & Mrs Elmsley affronted Mrs White at a Ball by passing her by without noticing her or making any return to her advances of Civility." This seemingly trivial incident enraged John White when he heard of it, presumably because he considered the Smalls to be his social inferiors. As Russell related, "The Attorney General exceedingly provoked at this Treatment went the next morning to Mr Smalls with a view of enquiring the reason of it from the Lady." Mrs Small was absent and her husband was unable to explain her behaviour, so White "went over in great Ire to David Smith to whom he made his Complaint, & it is supposed that (hurried away by the violence of his Passion) he happened to drop some hints relative to Mrs S. which the other taking advantage of wormed out of him a confession." What White told Surveyor-General Smith may possibly have been "wormed" out of him, as his good friend Russell charitably described it, but it certainly did him no credit. White claimed to have had an affair with Mrs Small, to "having been himself great with her, & that he discontinued his Connection from fear of injury to his Health from the Variety and frequency of her Amours with others." White was clearly trying to destroy the character of a woman who he felt was his social inferior and who should have treated his wife with proper respect. Not surprisingly, the matter

71 Establishing Social Status

did not end there. "At this Smith appeared to be greatly shocked & requested Mr W. permission to repeat what he had heard to Mrs Elmsley for whom he had a great Regard." Smith's motivations for this scandalmongering were ostensibly of the purest character, as he only "wished to apprise her of the Character of the lady with whom she was commencing an Intimacy - This permission was granted with an Injunction that Mr Smith should not mention it to any other Person & that he should request Mrs E to keep the information to herself for her own private use without causing any alteration in her conduct to Mrs Small." The results of this were predictable. Smith, despite his solemn promise, not only told the Elmsleys, who evidently kept the secret, but "was very liberal in his communications ... & particularly to Mr & Mrs Powell." Having sown the seeds of scandal, Smith then conveniently left the province on a business trip. "Mrs Elmsley finding out therefore that the tale had got abroad thought it proper to change her Carriage to Mrs Small," Russell observed, "& whenever they met shunned her advances and often passed her by without noticing her."36 Now it was Small's turn to be upset at the snubs his wife had received. The rumours were easily traced back to their source, and Small challenged White to a duel. The attorney-general paid for his indiscretion with his life, and Small soon found himself charged with murder. As it happened, he was acquitted on a technicality. No on had actually seen him shoot White, so murder could not be proven. It probably was also helpful that Small's second had been none other than Sheriff McDonnell. It was unfortunate that Small was not more confident of his case, for a fatal error was made in his defence at the trial. "Mr Smalls Counsel in order to impress upon the Jury the Provocation which had urged him to call Mr White to the field - very unwisely obliged the Chief Justice and Mr Justice Powell to inform the Jury respecting the Attorney Generals Conversation with him about Mrs Small." This was indeed a tragic mistake, for "their evidence opened a Scene which has rendered the stain given by it to her Reputation indelible because the only person who could have possibly removed it is dead without having revoked what he said."37 The person who was really on trial, it would seem, was Elizabeth Small. Not only did White's story of her alleged affair with him become public knowledge; so also did the rumour that she "had been the kept mistress of Lord Bersley, & that Small has received a Sum of money for marrying her." As William Jarvis expressed it, the upshot of the nasty incident was destruction for all parties. "Thus White is dead & Small & his wife dam'd," he wrote.38

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Whether White's allegations were true or merely the product of vengeful spite, what had previously only been whispered behind hands was now in the public domain and could not be ignored. Mrs Small and her husband lived in a kind of social twilight, shunned by all. As Anne explained, "our late Govr who knew the circumstances of her infamy, gave as a reason for not sending her a card, that were he [to] no other Lady would accept his invitations."39 Elizabeth, however, used her social connections in Britain to prevail upon the Gores to reinstate her in society. This created a dilemma for the elite citizens of York, who did not wish to acknowledge her but felt that they could hardly ignore the lieutenant-governor's request. "Mrs Jarvis called upon me," Anne wrote, "to ask my advice so soon as it was known that this woman was to be one of the company." Anne declined to advise her, wishing to avoid forming "a party" on what was a moral issue. Hannah Jarvis went after all but attempted to reconcile obedience with propriety. "I hear when in the dance it was necessary to give hands, [she] turn'd her back & put her hand behind her," Anne related with disgust, "an impotent attempt to present an affront."40 As it turned out, the Powells were the only family who did not attend the ball. Thus Anne set herself apart from the rest of York society on a point of moral principle. What she hoped to accomplish by this is unclear. Certainly her own family tragedies and the frantic attempts being undertaken by William and her brother George to free the hapless Jeremiah must have diminished her enjoyment of social events. Perhaps, at a time when she was being looked down upon socially by the likes of the Thorpes, it was some consolation to make her isolation a splendid one, a heroic moral stand. Although more than thirty years had passed since her days as a Boston milliner, Anne could never entirely forget her own lowly beginnings. If York society had been aware of her former occupation as a shopkeeper, they would most certainly have excluded her. Perhaps her insecurity about her social position led Anne to assume a rigidity that, by rejecting others as inferior, would enhance her own status. When, at about this same time, a local merchant by the name of Quetton St George "had the presumption to offer himself to her oldest daughter Anne in marriage, she responded by attributing what was in her view such an inappropriate proposal to "his national and individual vanity," and "quietly but decisively rejected the proposal." When St George retaliated - "whether resentment or an evil spirit actuated him I know not" - by making "an unprovoked and insolent speech ... concerning [Anne's sister] Mary," the elder Anne reacted decisively and "dismiss'd him from our acquaintance with contempt. I believe he

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never got such a lesson, & it will teach him to distinguish between the desire to return civilities & an encouragement to a connexion with a family who but from a [sense] of those civilities, would have rejected every Idea of considering him as a visitor."41 This snub to poor St George was a confirmation, at least to Anne, of her own status. At least in part, her refusal to associate with Elizabeth Small was also motivated by a desire to establish or assert social standing. Fortunately, Anne was not completely isolated by her self-imposed social exile. The Powells were still invited to dine at the lieutenant-governor's, and Anne took advantage of these opportunities to present her point of view. On one such occasion, she had a long conversation with Mrs Gore during which she "fully informed her of my opinion & had the pleasure to find her a Woman of the most delicate mind, & sentiments perfectly corresponding with my own, on the necessity of example."42 Others in York society watched these developments with interest, and a month later Anne was happy to report that "I have received the most general attention & respect."43 Indeed, some of the other ladies had now begun to follow her lead, attending balls with the resolve to leave if Mrs Small arrived, or not going at all if it was certain that she was to be there. The result was that the lieutenant-governor assumed that Anne was at the head of a conspiracy to thwart his efforts at restoring social harmony. This in turn affected William's relationship with Gore. Anne was indignant that her husband, "a Man who from his long & zealous performance of his duty, from the services he has render'd to the province, & who has a right to confidence & respect is treated not only with neglect but pursued with malignancy." And this was all "because his Wife disdains to introduce her daughters into the society of a Woman, who if she is married to the Man with whom she lives, was in the face of the country charged with Adultery, & in consequence excluded from the company of creditable Females."44 Anne did attend a few social gatherings when she was certain that Elizabeth Small would not be present, only to be snubbed by Gore. He resented the fact that "Mrs P reject[s] the Society of one who is an acquaintance of his Lady's." On one such occasion, he treated Anne "with the most marked neglect." At supper, when she was "advancing to the place appointed for [her]," Gore called her away, "& the next instant call'd other Ladies to the seat he had forbad me to take." This was a social rebuke of the harshest sort. What could Anne do, in the face of all York society? She chose to underline the injustice of the insult by exaggerating it. She "waited quietly until the company had pass'd me, (after walking round the

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table to find an eligable seat) & then placed myself at the foot of the Table." Only "the kind & elegant manners of his Lady" were able to "overcome the shock this unjustifiable treatment occasion'd." As she explained, "no greater punishment could be inflicted upon a Man, to whom my calm & even manners, were a continued reproach." Indeed, Gore was ultimately to prove to be no match for propriety. The whole of York society was uneasy about the problem of Elizabeth Small. Anne was finally victorious when it became suspected that Mrs Gore supported her stand. At one of the assemblies that Mrs Small attended, the ladies of York were shocked to discover that only the lieutenant-governor was present. "So soon as the ladies knew that Mrs Gore was not to be there," Anne related, "they order'd their Carrioles & went home." The consternation and confusion that must have rippled through the crowded ballroom can only be imagined. "Thus the only public amusement is destroyed," observed Anne, "& as much offence given as if they had absented themselves in the first instance."45 Anne's victory was complete, but the tension between her and Gore lessened only gradually. A few months later, in November 1808, she "paid my respects to him as he condescended to enquire for me. Very polite were we both, - cordial we never shall be." Local gossip had, however, given her "reason to think [he] would readily join in uncountenancing the worthless character they so strenuously attempted to force on us." Indeed, she was certain he was "heartily ashamed of what has pass'd." This confirmed Anne in the correctness of her position. As she expressed it, "[I] am every day more satisfied with my own conduct in this ridiculous bussiness."46 Perhaps Gore, in the midst of political conflict with Thorpe, began to appreciate the conservative Powells. By April of 1809, Anne could report that Gore was "much pleas'd" with her husband "& has been excessively polite to him." Her fear that "this is the whim of the moment" was fortunately not confirmed by subsequent experience.47 By 1810, the lieutenant-governor had given up all attempts to impose his will upon York society, and more particularly upon Anne Powell. In June of that year, a grand ball was held at Government House, and, Anne related, it was "intimated that my presence would be desirable." When she attended the "Gala," she wrote, she was treated with "mark'd attention" which "exceeded the want of it, the only time I appear'd on a similar occasion ... indeed nothing could surpass the politeness & elegance of manners & arrangement of his Excellency & his Lady." Anne congratulated herself that "I really believe all parties rejoiced at having got rid of a business

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which has caused chagrin to more than myself. The evening was consider'd as one of the most chearful ever pass'd there."48 A year later, the social situation at York continued to meet with her approval. "Everything here wears the face of improvement; the country smiles and we are all sociable together," she wrote with satisfaction.49 Even while the Powells' star was rising, however, there were enemies present. William Warren Baldwin, a doctor and lawyer from Ireland, for example, commented disdainfully on what he considered to be an example of their poor breeding. He wrote to his friend Attorney-General William Firth, a British import, of his revulsion at the Powells' home-grown table manners. "I don't know that I was ever more disgusted, than at Dinner at the Chief Justices some time ago. Mr Powell & his son John apeing his daddy laid down their knives, and with a lump of bread in one hand & the fork in the other, they heaped their fish upon the bread which was thrust into their mouths with their fingers - thus gobbling up the contents of their plates - after some damned French or other outlandish fashion - these coxcombical capers disgust me too much to speak of them in any other terms than are suited to their impudence.50 Anne may have won a great victory over Gore, but the slightest deviation from accepted social conduct could wreak havoc upon even the most established career. For Anne and William, as for other members of the ruling elite of Upper Canada, there was a direct relationship between social and political success. At the same time, such pressing questions of social conduct and status were for once to give way to larger issues. It was becoming apparent to the inhabitants of York that there was a good likelihood of the conflict between Britain and France spilling over into North America. Anne was particularly uneasy about this, as William explained to her brother George early in 1810. "The prospect before us is not very bright," he wrote, "and your sister has become inclined to view the dark side of every political Spot, in the political Hemisphere. It requires all my philosophy to meet it with Sang Froid."5' Anne was certain that all that lay between "the hateful Tyrant" Napoleon, with his "restless and insatiable ambition," and Upper Canada was Great Britain. Should Britain fall, "the being who wades through seas of Blood to obtain the dominion of Europe, will not when that event is accomplished, set down content with what will lose its value, from the consideration that more may be acquired." Anne's loyalty to England was such that she felt that "to suppose she can fall even cover'd with glory, is almost heresy; & an event I hope not to live to witness." Anne realized that she was

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stepping out of her "sphere" in expressing such strong political opinions. Even when writing to her sympathetic brother, she felt that it was necessary to apologize: "I have neither judgement or political knowledge to discuss a point in which all who have feeling must be interested."52 Anne did feel qualified, however, to comment on the lack of good breeding and the moral degeneracy of Napoleon. She described his divorce from what she sardonically described as "the immaculate Josephine" as "a scene of the grossest mummery I ever read," which would "invite the ridicule of surrounding nations." "I should not be surprised," she continued, if, in his audacity, "he sought one of our Royal Family [in marriage] as the Pledge of Peace, to the general warfare." Anne sincerely hoped that his presumption and ambition would be punished. She wrote, "may God in his infinite mercy [sink] him as much below his original station in Life, as he is now elevated above it; & by that means prove to all who doubt, that tho' the wicked triumph for a time, their dwelling is on the sand, without foundation or stability." Indeed, she felt "almost unchristian when I think of [the] multiplied crimes of this Wretch, [the] extent of misery & devastation he has caused."53 It is clear that Napoleon's social crimes of presumption and immorality figured as largely in Anne's condemnation as did the more concrete and bloody crimes of warfare. As political tensions between the United States and Britain intensified, Anne's fears of invasion from the south became acute. The remembrance of what had happened to many Loyalists during the American Revolution was, to her, especially vivid and real. She recalled that "the revolution afforded many opportunities to the avaricious & unprincipled, & various unworthy Characters made use of the general distress to amass immense wealth."54 Anne feared that the consequence of invasion would be yet another uprooting and the loss of all they had worked for. As she explained to George, she felt particularly vulnerable with her now largely female household composed of three daughters, two granddaughters, and the wife of one of her sons. "Nothing short of absolute compulsion shall induce me with my family of 6 helpless Females to forsake our present asylum, until another is secured for us," she asserted. "Here should the worst consequences of invasion happen ... we shall be above want, & surely American humanity, will not be so far overcome by the ferocity of Bonaparte as to deny protection to Women & Children, or to deprive them of the property from which they derive support."55 Over the next two years, Anne's fears intensified until they were finally confirmed by the outbreak of war. "I cannot help looking

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with uneasy suspence upon the present state of politics ... - God avert the evil!"56 she had written in 1811. "A dread of war frequently discomfits me," she admitted in February 1812. "God of his infinite Mercy preserve us in Peace; & we shall yet be an happy People."57 When her predictions were finally realized, she became fiercely partisan. "I hope that the time is not far distant," she wrote of the Americans, "when their hateful flag will yield to the British Lion."58 She was shocked when the American "Genl Pike died with the Royal Standard as a Pillow for his Head." Such sloppiness with respect to an important symbol of British authority could not be tolerated. "I can scarcely believe," she wrote, "that various as were the errors of that disasterous day, any thing so nationally important could be left to the mercy of a rabble."59 At the same time, Anne began to feel a real loyalty to Upper Canada for the first time. "I sicken at the prospect of a total loss of this fine Colony,"60 she wrote to William at a particularly grim point in the conflict shortly after the American invasion of York in April of 1813. This concern was translated into pragmatic measures; Anne sent her own household supplies to help the military effort and made such items as bed sheets that were needed for the men living in barracks.6' William was also greatly involved in private efforts to support the war, in addition to his official duties. He joined with other prominent men of York in 1812 to form "The Loyal and Patriotic Society of Upper Canada," designed to give aid to those members of the militia and their families who were wounded and distressed. It is significant that, on the subscription list for the society and on the list for contributions to sponsor the public assemblies held during this period, William's name was always second, after Chief Justice Scott. This is not explained by alphabetical order or by the amount of money donated. It was more than likely that the order of the list reflected the rank in society.62 William and Anne responded to this increased respect and position in Upper Canadian society with a corresponding loyalty. The War of 1812 was not without political conflicts for William, however. His friend Gore had returned to England on leave of absence in 1811. Major-General Isaac Brock, who filled in as head of government in Gore's place, did not favour Powell. As Anne expressed it, "I am not surprized at the cool looks you receive, and conceive they are the best compliment to your sincerity; The Wheel may take another turn, and disgrace fall where it is due."63 The old accusations of disloyalty were again raised by William's enemies, "suspicions ... not always removed even by the most conclusive proofs of innocence."64 Added to the machinations of his political

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opponents was financial loss. As William explained, "we struggled through the war with less discomfort than might be expected considering our residence to have been twice in possession of the Enemy." Added to this, he related, "our principal distress arose from the incredible Expense of living enhanced by the demands for the Army & consequent depreciation of our Salaries."65 For once in Anne and William's life, however, political squabbles and financial troubles were to be resolved with very little difficulty. In 1815 Lieutenant-Governor and Mrs Gore returned from England and a political climate favourable to the Powells was restored. In 1811, Anne had found that "it was flattering for us to receive the most unequivocal assurance" that the Gores "felt as much at parting as those they left."66 In 1815, she was again happy to report that "the Governor is arrived, well and friendly as ever. We owe him the ability to support the late disasterous times; - the timely nature of his influence at home gained for my husband the means to get rid of difficulties that would almost have overwhelmed us."67 Under Gore's influence, the Legislature voted £1,000 in compensation for some government work William had undertaken a year earlier.68 This was in addition to a continued close association with Gore, so close that Anne claimed that "nothing can exceed the confidential cordiality subsisting between the Govr and Mr p."69 It was at this time, under Gore's patronage, that Powell was finally at the age of sixty-one to realize his life's ambition - the chief justiceship that had been denied him for twenty years. In the spring of 1816, he went to England to secure his appointment. "If Mr Powell does succeed in the object of his voyage," Anne wrote excitedly, "we may look forward to a tolerable competence for our future lives."70 At long last, the fates seemed to smile upon the Powell family. William arrived back in Upper Canada with the coveted position of chief justice secured, and then also was appointed Speaker of the Upper House, a position which paid him an allowance of £500 on top of his new salary of £2,ooo.?1 Anne was jubilant. "We are really more comfortable," she informed her brother, "than I ever had a right to expect."72 William's huge income was necessary for the Powells to maintain their new position in society. The duties of his office involved extensive social obligations. Anne was expected to give large dinner parties twice a week for members of the legislature.73 When the lieutenant-governor was out of town, "Mr Powell's station obliges him to see all strangers who come to the place."7/1 These heavy social responsibilities meant that the Powells needed better accommodation. Accordingly, in 1817, they added a whole storey to their

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house so that they would have enough room downstairs to entertain large numbers in their dining room. Sixteen people regularly sat down to eat in it after the renovations were finished, and the amount of food and drink they routinely consumed must have been enormous.75 One indication of how much alcohol was drunk and the quantity a prominent member of the York elite would normally have on hand is indicated by an incident that occurred in the Powell household in 1826. A shelf in the cellar basement collapsed under the weight of ten dozen bottles of brandy, which "shook the house like a clap of thunder & a man half way down the lane thought it was cannon."76 Anne also found that her personal appearance needed improvement. Expensive dresses were now an everyday necessity. "Eliza says I must have a black Satin or a black figured Silk Gown," she explained to George; "you will perhaps wonder at this extravagance; but Mr P's station in the Govt takes us frequently to the Govt House where attention to garb is requisite."77 Anne was a little uneasy about all this extravagance and felt that she had to justify it to others. "You know that I am not addicted to extravagance, in any personal indulgence," she told George, "but in an aristocratical government, expences must be incurred according to the station held. It would be improper for me to receive my company in a cotton gown, to give them a joint of meat and a pudding, or to return their visit in a waggon; - and altho' we keep as near mediocrity as possible we find expences accumulate, sometimes beyond our calculations."78 Part of maintaining an elaborate social life and lavish household was the employing of many servants. In 1805, the Russells' greater status had been reflected in their employment of five servants to the Jarvises' three and the Powells' two.79 By 1816, Anne and William had expanded their household to five servants themselves.80 Having so much hired help about was a mixed blessing. The "servant problem" was probably the most pressing issue for wives of government officials from the earliest days of Upper Canadian settlement. Elizabeth Simcoe complained in 1793 that "The worst inconvenienc in this country is want of servants which are not to be got. The worst of people do you a favour if they merely wash dishes for twenty shillings a month."8' There were too many other opportunities for the "servant class" in Upper Canada for them to submit themselves for long to the whims of their so-called superiors. As Hannah Jarvis observed, it was all too possible for the best servants to "take up lands and work for themselves."82 Those that remained presented numerous problems for their employers and were seen

8o The Lessons of Propriety

primarily as one more obstacle to be overcome in the constant struggle to establish and maintain status. The wide breach between the master and servant classes in York is admirably displayed by an incident in the Powell household. By 1818, Anne could boast of "two good female Servants besides a little English girl who has been with me more than a year, and makes a good house maid, and attendant; we have two men Servants who both attend table; therefore we are as well prepared as we can be; yet much superintendence falls on me."83 Anne exhibited a certain amount of parental concern for her employees and their "cleanliness and comfort."84 When the sister of one of her servants fell ill "with an apparently broken constitution" and had to leave her position at the Boultons', Anne allowed her to stay at her house. Her son Grant, now a physician, gave the young woman medical attention and "the perfect restoration of her health, and the duty not being laborious induced her to engage with me." But, sometime between the new servant's departure from the Boultons' in the spring of 1817 and her arrival at the Powells' in December, something untoward had happened. The young woman's "respectability was so generally acknowledged, that I was envied by many," Anne had boasted of her acquisition, "and by all considered most fortunate." However, "about xmas I thought her appearance indicated either dropsy or something worse." Anne's sense of delicacy and the busy social season prevented her from investigating further. Finally, on 15 March, the servant was taken ill and, unfortunately, "Grant's opinion confirmed my fears." Anne did not question the servant directly but asked the sister, "who shocked at the suggestion, interrogated her with the most perfect fraternal solicitude, and obtained nothing but the steadfast denial of the possibility of that which we suspected." Another doctor was called in the evening when the young woman's pains increased, "who from the respectability of her Character, and her assertions, bled her, gave her Laudenum and warm bath to her feet." Predictably, these cures had little effect on what ailed the young woman, and a yet more experienced physician was summoned, "who laughed at my credulity, and pronounced decidedly on the cause of her complaint." Indeed, it seems remarkable that a woman who had herself borne nine children should so believe in someone's "respectability" that she would doubt the clear evidence of her own senses. The hapless servant, "in the midst of her agonies ... still persevered in her denial and the living proof of her misconduct which made its appearance after 13 hours dreadful sufferings, scarce convinced her that delusion was no longer practicable."

8i Establishing Social Status

Although Anne had the consideration to give the mother and child her own warm chamber in preference to the draughty servant's room, she complained that "a heavy cold was the consequence to Mr P. and myself." Indeed, "admidst the various complexities to which I have been subjected, nothing so vexatious ever interrupted the comfort of the whole family." The servant and child were soon packed off "to her miserable Father." The unfortunate mother refused to name the other party in her shame, "and all who know her lament the error into which she has fallen." Anne displayed little sympathy. "This is quite a history," she wrote, "and a proof of moral depravity of which I have before heard, but never till now witnessed."85 Anne's rigid condemnation of the "depraved" young woman was doubtless the reason for the departure of her servant's sister soon after. Anne did not seem to appreciate this possibility when she wrote to her brother, asking that he send her a new servant from New York because "I have lost mine ... and tho' her ungrateful behaviour prevents my regretting [her] departure, I feel great inconvenience from the want of her services; and am unwilling to undertake teaching another, from the conviction, that I shall take trouble for the benefit of others, which is the case in the present instance. Indeed I had flattered myself that common feeling would have so forcibly impressed a sense of the kindness her unworthy Sister experienced from me last March, that no temptation would have induced her to quit me; but I have found my mistake."86 Anne later had more problems with a new black American servant, by the name of Freeman. Although he was considered "an acquisition," he at first encountered prejudice in her household. It was some time before she could report that "our white Servants have overcome objection to his color."87 This acceptance did not prevent him from being dismissed, however, because he "contracted improper acquaintances, and resisted some restrictions not to be dispensed with."88 It seems not surprising that for Anne, as for the other members of the Upper Canadian elite, "the want of a servant" was "an evil so generally" encountered that it seemed "to be irremediable."89 The elitism of the ladies and gentlemen of York was not calculated to endear them to their servants, particularly since domestic situations were plentiful. Good servants, if they did not marry and move to their own farms, could have their pick of positions. The official coterie at York may have ruled the province, paraded like peacocks at glittering social extravaganzas, and conducted themselves according to rigid English standards of propriety, but they were unable to

8 2 The Lessons of Propriety

impose their wills upon those they considered their social inferiors. After the War of 1812, Anne and William moved in the upper circles of society. The size and self-importance of elite York had greatly increased since the 17905. Anne described a grand ball held in 1821 that was "numerous and attended; between 150 & 200 people present; a proof of the increase of the Society here."90 In that same year a visitor to York commented, "I should think that there was considerable society and very good. There appears to be considerable style kept up."91 The Gores left Upper Canada in the spring of 1817, much to Anne's "regret." She claimed that she would always remember them with "the most grateful regard."92 Replacing the Gores were Sir Peregrine Maitland and his wife, Lady Sarah, daughter of the Duke of Richmond. Despite Anne's established position at the pinnacle of York society, she was very nervous about the arrival of the aristocratic Maitlands. "I hope their high rank will not induce them to consider the inhabitants of the Wilderness as an inferior race of beings," she wrote to her brother. "We have been so long accustomed to the condescending kindness of our regretted Governor and his excellent lady that reserve and hauteur would be ill received. However, we will hope that the higher the better bred."93 Anne need not have feared. She found Lady Sarah Maitland "a most unaffected woman perfectly affable and desiring to be on easy terms of acquaintance with us all."94 "Our great People are very pleasant," she emphasized. "The Governor is very reserved, but I believe a most excellent man ... their style of entertaining is plain and handsome; no affection of fashion in defiance of comfort."95 "Sir Peregrine and her Ladyship are most superior and estimable Characters," Anne wrote approvingly. Their "invitations are not exhaustive; therefore we have been frequently honoured by receiving them."96 The Powells' terms of easy intimacy with the Maitlands further underlined their own high social position. In 1821, Anne described a visit to Government House. "We all drank tea there a few days ago in an unceremonious way, Sir Peregrine asking us to go and see the Garden and grounds which his taste has rendered beautiful."97 Their friendliness was such that Anne's granddaughters "receive[d] the kindest attention from Sir Peregrine and Lady Sarah." Sir Peregrine even "condescended" to give granddaughter Mary drawing lessons.98 Anne's position in society can also be gauged by the early membership lists for the "Female Society for the Relief of Poor Women in Childbirth," established in 1820. Anne, "Mrs Chief Justice Powell," was a founding member along with Lady Sarah,

83 Establishing Social Status

Mrs Strachan (the Anglican minister's wife), "Mrs Colonel Foster," and "Mrs Attorney General." On the membership lists of 1820 and 1821, Anne was ranked second, immediately after Lady Sarah Maitland. The ostracized Mrs Small, even though she matched Mrs Powell's financial contribution, was listed last of all the women. Anne was high above her, vindicated in her earlier snubbing of Elizabeth Small by the rank and influence that she now held." The success of these years from 1816 to 1821 reinforced the awakening loyalty to Upper Canada that Anne had experienced during the War of 1812. When her brother was having some difficulties with his business interests in the United States in 1820, she implored him to consider moving to Upper Canada and becoming "an inhabitant of this happy and prosperous Country, where industry meets its certain tho' slow reward. ... A finer climate or more delightful Country is not within the King's dominions and say the dissatisfied what they may, there is not in the world a more equal government." But most important, should George move to York, he would become "what you are by birthright a British subject. ... You know the estimation in which I hold this privilege and will forgive my earnest desire that all whom I love should share the blessing."100 Despite Anne's loyalty to her adopted province, she was soon to face the prospect of having to leave it forever. A sharp downward turn in the Powell family's fortunes began in 1822 and reached its conclusion with their emigration to England in 1827. Social disgrace was followed by public controversy and, compounded by the machinations of William's political adversaries, was to combine to knock the Powells from their pinnacle of prestige and influence. With the departure of the Gores, William lost his source of patronage and power in government circles. Under the new lieutenant-governor, Maitland, the younger and more energetic Anglican minister John Strachan rose to challenge William's influence. They clashed over many issues, in particular the Clergy Reserves, which William felt should not be held exclusively for Anglicans. Strachan was ambitious and had a base of support in the young men, now rising to prominence, to whom he had been schoolmaster years before. In 1822, William was humiliated when the Legislative Council chose Strachan's former student and William's protege, the young attorney-general John Beverley Robinson, for the honour of carrying a government report to the King. The sixty-seven-year-old William was the author of the report and was so outraged by this injustice that, rather than behaving with appropriate dignity and accepting Maitland's private apology, he made a public protest by

84 The Lessons of Propriety

attempting to block the passage of the act that was to provide funds for the trip. This conduct was embarrassingly petty and did nothing to advance his cause. It was as if he was losing all sense of proportion. Defiantly, William went to England anyway in December 1821. He planned to visit friends such as Gore in order to garner more influence. Unfortunately the socially unacceptable behaviour of his daughter Anne was to further complicate the situation. Eldest daughter Anne's increasingly difficult behaviour had been, up until 1822, mostly kept a private family matter. It could no longer be hidden when she suffered an emotional breakdown and ran away from home at the age of thirty-five. She left unescorted in a style unsuitable to her class and respectability, causing rumours to flourish about her conduct.101 For her mother, this was a terrible public humiliation. When added to the political conflicts her husband had recently experienced, it made for a very difficult time for the elder Anne. She explained that "looked up to as we for a large portion of our lives have been in these two Provinces nothing can conceal what affects the character of the family."102 She retreated from society, maintaining that "I shall go nowhere except to the Governors. There sickness is the only allowable excuse."103 With social disgrace came also loss of favour in official circles. Anne responded to this with her usual stoicism. "I have been too much accustomed to the precariousness of the smiles of the great," she assured her worried brother, "to feel the slightest chagrin at this circumstance, and await the return of sunshine with perfect composure." Anne's sense of propriety was a great consolation to her, as she explained that this "principle has been my unerring and hitherto eventually successful guide; and will continue so to be, during the probably brief remainder of my race."104 She was also sustained by the friendship of Lady Sarah Maitland, who continued to visit her in an informal manner. Indifferent as she claimed to be to "the smiles of the great," Anne had to concede that "attention from this truly exalted Lady is a balm to me. Had you been present you would not wonder at it, for never was dignity so well blended with kind affability. At this time of disgrace it is more than usually valuable."105 This period of crisis in early 1822 passed, but the damage was never undone. The memory of that time of humiliation stung. Friends who had deserted the Powells during the scandal were later mistrusted. When the Powells' former regular visitor Colonel Coffin attempted to renew "that intimacy his convenience led him to relinquish," Anne treated him with scorn. "I know too well what is due to myself," she asserted, "not to meet his advances with the

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most frigid indifference." Coffin was not the only fair-weather friend who withdrew "himself from our society when Mr P. was given up to the malevolence of his unprincipled persecuters."106 William's political opponents continued to make gains at his expense between 1822 and 1826. In early 1825, ne became involved in a public controversy over some libellous charges made against him anonymously in the press. This embarrassed the government and led to his complete exclusion from official circles.107 The matter was very serious, and Anne informed her brother that "my next communication may inform you of the suspension of my Husband from all his situations."108 Anne blamed this circumstance on John Strachan, who she claimed was "odious to the public at large."109 He became, to her, the embodiment of all that was wicked in the world. The only thing that prevented Strachan from forcing out her husband was "fear of the public indignation at such an act of despotism." She explained that "the impeachment is not for any charge of deviation from the strictest performance of duty, or from indifference to the honor of the Govt or the good of the Province." On the contrary, she pointed out, "It arises from a personal offence to Sir P M, at least such by the influence of the most unprincipled set by which he is surrounded is the impression on the mind of his Excellency. It is horrible to see that the Preacher of Peace [Strachan] is the fomentor of discord; it has long been evident to those who were not absolute sufferers by his shameful devotion to the basest intruiges. Since his return [from a visit to England] wealth and influence have added to the reprehensible passions of an arrogant mind, and nothing but fear of the consequences as they respect himself and his abettors will prevent the utter ruin of their victim." This was a very anxious time for Anne. "My brain is sometimes bewildered by the view of our immediate situation," she lamented, "and I pray to the Almighty to avert the evil or give me strength to support myself under the dispensation.""0 As usual, Anne was equal to the challenge. William wrote to George, relating that "your sister is as well as can be with her sensitive mind in such a position as the family is placed in, but her Religion and Philosophy will bear her up."1" Indeed, Anne's "philosophy" was a great source of strength to her. "Hitherto I have possessed that self command, which conceals from all who approach me apprehensions I entertain," she told George. "Even yesterday when I was called to Dr Strachan's by the sudden alarm of Mrs S[trachan] at seeing one of the Children in convulsions, I had so much feeling of superiority that I saw my arch enemy enter the sick room, with no other change of manner than the elevation of my

86 The Lessons of Propriety head, which it was impossible to repress." As always Anne's propriety was a powerful social weapon, particularly on this occasion when she was on an errand of mercy. "He did not, and I believe with all his insolence could not speak to me," she concluded with bitter satisfaction.118 It is worth underlining the fact that Anne was still on good terms with Mrs Strachan, despite her hatred of that woman's husband. The same held true for Lady Sarah. William was stiff-necked in his refusal to reconcile himself with Sir Peregrine, causing Anne to regret that "there appears a decided resolution to reject all means of conciliation, which did he not view it in a degrading light might have been affected at least in appearance.""3 Although Anne complained in 1825 that "Sir P. does not recognize me," she "had a long visit from her Ladyship yesterday."1'4 "There is no chance of any intercourse between Sir P. and Mr P.; the machinations that seperated them were too well arranged to admit a possibility of change." She continued to see Lady Sarah, even though "of course morning visits are all that can pass between her Ladyship and myself.""5 Nevertheless, on the whole, Anne was isolated from the mainstream of York society as a result of her husband's difficulties. When a new family, the Jacksons, moved to town, Anne called on them and later sent her carriage over to bring them for tea. Mr Jackson, however, was only the "under Tellar of the Montreal bank," and Anne did not invite any "additional company, as I did not think it right to introduce them to people who would feel it no compliment." This sort of entertaining was a far cry from the Powells' heyday at the social centre of the York elite. Anne was able to turn even this into an indication of her superiority over those who now avoided her. "Do not suppose," she assured William, who was absent on his court circuit, that "I feel anything but satisfaction at your introduction. They are respectable, from the same County, and expressed themselves much gratified by my attention. I have no doubt they are as well born as many here, who would look down upon them.""6 Respectability, deference, and good breeding were far more important than the good opinion of society, especially when one was no longer at its pinnacle. In the face of political and social opposition, William was forced to think seriously about resigning his positions as chief justice and speaker. The district court that he presided over that summer of 1825 was to be his last. A year later, at the age of seventy-one, he decided that it was necessary once again to return to England, as some of his enemies were recommending that he be cut off without a pension."7 Anne saw the implications of his isolation from public

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life long before the decision to travel to Britain, however. "If he has the means to live elsewhere," she asked her brother, "can I or ought I to allow my own selfish feelings to urge his remaining where I once hoped we should close our eyes in peace surrounded by those Children and their Children, whom it had pleased the Almighty to preserve us. I cannot do it; and humbly pray for divine support thro' the conflict that too probably awaits me."118 Anne's predication was realized when William wrote urgently to her soon after his arrival in England in 1827, imporing her to join him there. His influential friends had succeeded in securing a £i,ooo-per-year pension for him, and he could not face returning to Upper Canada and associating with those who had caused him so much grief. As Anne suggested earlier, this necessitated making what was a difficult decision for her. Her loyalty to Upper Canada, which had solidified during the War of 1812, had not been eroded by her husband's political misfortunes. She still had close female friends in York society, a factor that carried far more weight with her than attendance at elaborate public gatherings. Of the greatest importance to her, however, was the network of family that had grown up and settled around her. As she expressed it early in 1826, "every day lessens my power and inclination to remove from this place.""9 Nonetheless, when duty called, Anne, as always, knew how she must answer. In late 1827, now seventy-two years old, she settled their affairs in York, bade her children good-bye, possibly for the last time, and sailed to join William in England, accompanied by her second eldest daughter, Elizabeth. Once again, against her own personal wishes and inclinations, Anne behaved as a proper wife should, and followed her husband.

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PART TWO

The Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles

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4 Married Life: Anne and William

Anne's stoic acquiescence in William's plan to retire from the scene of his political humiliation was typical of her role as wife throughout their marriage. William was a loving husband, but although he did his best to take his wife's feelings into consideration, inevitably it was his desires and his decisions that determined their combined fate. Anne saw her compliance with his wishes as her duty, and as an integral part of her view of the propriety of behaviour required of women of her class. As she explained during the difficult period of family and social crisis in 1808, it was critical that she continue "to perform the active duties indispensably necessary to my situation as the mother of a large and helpless family and a member of society when everyone ought to perform their part by setting examples of morality and decency. ... Surely ... I shall be lost to all sense of goodness if I suffer murmuring or discontent to embitter the feelings of those for whom I live." During times of such adversity, she felt, "My husband has an increased claim upon my affection, friendship and duty, and I hope the power to reward him for his exertions to restore my peace will accompany a will which must be invariable."1 As Anne later explained to her brother George in 1822, "I have all my life been in the habit of sacrificing my feelings to the comfort or to the opinion of others."2 She continually hastened to assure William that "I can encounter anything but your disapprobation."3 Indeed, Anne once told him, she was "grateful for being an instrument to promote your comforts and abort the consequences of the unusual personal inconveniences to which you have been ex-

g2 Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles

posed."4 She reassured him that "however unsuccessful the effort may sometimes prove, to promote your comfort is the first and most earnest of my wishes. ... Therefore you have but to express your wishes to secure whatever power I may possess to aid in their gratification."5 Even after fifty years of marriage, she felt the need to tell William "that my life is devoted to promote your peace and ease, and I trust the conviction of the sincerity of this profession, will obtain your unqualified forgiveness for every moment of disquiet the warmth and petulance of my temper have caused to you at various periods during the last 50 years." Despite her obvious devotion, she was apologetic. "I feel the extent of your forbearance," she wrote, "and should we be permitted to pass the short residue of our lives in mutually supporting each others infirmities I will hope no interruption to the happiness we are capable to enjoy."6 William was not unappreciative of Anne's affectionate compliance with his wishes. His letters are full of gratitude for her fulfilment of her wifely role. The thought of her, he declared, was "the delight of my life - from all labour from all sorrow I turn to it as the renewal and relief which never fails to sooth and compensate."7 "How much I have been indebted to you throughout life," he wrote on another occasion, "for softening its cares and insuring its blessings - I cannot turn round but memory presents some object rendered interesting by your affection or complaisance."8 As late as 1822, he asked that she "believe I still retain all that eager desire for reunion which in the earlier periods of Life, you gave me credit for." Indeed, "the recollection ... of all your kindness during the half century fast approaching of our intercourse is the delightful soother of those minutes which I steal from the double perplexities hanging over me."9 He often displayed concern for her welfare, writing that "Your health and enjoyment is the only interest which attracts me to York,"10 and assuring her that he was "rejoiced to find that you also take air and Exercise which I sincerely pray may conduce to your health and enjoyment. I hope you will experience no embarrassment in respect of supplies from the Bank during my absence."11 His wishes for her well-being were such, he declared, that he would go so far as "even to coin myself to Gold if it would thereby afford you a single Hour of perfect Satisfaction. Mine and my highest is the grateful remembrance of your past kindness and the delightful hope of still experiencing in your affection the only solid comfort I have ever known. God bless & preserve you all."12 Anne continually expressed her gratitude to and admiration of her husband. In 1805, she told George that "Mr P. is ever willing to indulge us, & indeed to sacrifice his comforts, where the benefit or

93 Married Life satisfaction of those around him are concerned - but while he is indulgent, I must be prudent."13 To William himself, she related her "invariable and anxious solicitude" and expressed her "thanks for your unceasing attention to my ease & comfort. My endeavours to increase your domestic comforts, will I trust more than words prove my gratitude."'4 Throughout the years of political conflict that marked his career, she was his unswerving and loyal supporter. As she explained to George in 1806, "suffering from poverty & a thousand difficulties, my Husband, has ever stretch'd forth his hand to the afflicted, & received the stranger with hospitality."15 In 182:2, when William's political star was falling, she was indignant. "What have you not sacrificed to promote the good of the public? How are your exertions rewarded? By your labours being used to serve an individual, without regard to your feelings public or private."'6 Although Anne may have at times wished that her husband would be more conciliating, she made no such excuses for his enemies' behaviour. "My mind was full of indignation at an attempt to assassinate the character of one, whose political crime is uniform opposition to all attempts to serve private interest at the expence of the public," she protested.'7 "I am well convinced [that] the fullest investigation of every act of his public life will reflect honor on himself as it will put his enemies to shame.'"8 William's detractors were, for her, "the most unprincipled set" involved in "the basest intrigues."'9 Anne's unquestioning loyalty to her husband is shown by the sincere praise that she wrote to him on his last tour of duty to outlying areas as chief justice. "I trust you will be enabled to perform the Circuit with less discomfort than usual," she wrote affectionately; "at least that you may bid adieu to its duties with the firm conviction of having for thirty years performed most faithfully, to the risk of your health and the sacrifice of personal ease. Indeed at the close of your Judicial career you may say with Samuel 'Whose Ox have I taken? or whom have I defrauded? whom have I oppressed? or of whose hand have I taken any bribe to blind my eyes therewith?' I believe the united voice of the province would answer this appeal in the words of the Israelites."20 Anne not only consoled her husband and devoted herself to his needs and those of his children, she was also his moral sanction and support. In domestic affairs, recognizing that this was her legitimate sphere of influence, William conceded all decision-making to her. "Mr P. compliments me on my management in his absence," she boasted to George, "by reluctance to interfere in domestic pecuniary arrangements, & if it will save him an hours disquiet I readily submit to continue his steward.'"" Although she was quick to assure

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William of her sense of her own "weak intellect,"22 he urged her "In all and everything [to] pursue your own Judgement."23 "Every observation on your Conduct & Sentiments serves to add to that exalted Confidence I have ever reposed in you."24 Although William may have exercised considerable political and judicial power, he deferred to his wife on domestic issues, concerning which, Anne told George, "my authority is indisputed."25 On issues of morality, it also lay within her sphere to urge him to turn to religion and "seek support where alone it is to be found" during times of crisis.26 William responded with appreciation for her "just and religious mind,"27 crediting her particularly with his "preservation" from vice, "during that period from 17 to 20 in which I was otherwise without guide or control."28 Yet Anne was careful not to actually censure her husband. Rather, she set an example of correct religious behaviour. Although William attended church, he refused to take communion until 1822, when a family tragedy jolted him into repentance. "This is the first time in an Interval of fifty years, that the Subject of this day has escaped from me," he wrote to Anne of his religious experience. "Among those grateful acknowledgements I have to make for such a Blessing from Providence the least is not for that affectionate Prudence which I know in silence condemned my supposed Perversity."29 Even after fifty-one years of marriage, William still wrote admiringly of Anne's religious and personal qualities. "Your high sense of Religious reliance on providence is a source of Retreat from other reflections which I possess not in the same Degree," he told Anne, "but Heaven has bestowed on me a heart so sensible and grateful to the happiness I have enjoyed with you that the recollection of our past life for over fifty years scarcely present a moment in our personal history. ... Wherever I am and however employed I am still all your own."30 William saw his marriage to Anne as an extremely important part of his life and their golden wedding anniversary as a major event. To mark the day, he had a medal struck which was given to family members. On one side was written "To Celebrate the Fiftieth Anniversary Upper Canada 3rd October 1825," and on the other, circling a picture of their two hands holding one torch, was inscribed "William Dummer Powell and Anne Murray intermarried 3rd October 1775." The day was celebrated simply, but, as William assured George, "tho' the feast was wanting at the Table, the Heart felt nothing wanting."3' Shortly before the anniversary, while on a trip to Kingston, William expressed his feelings more fully to Anne. "I expect to be with you this day fortnight and shall tell off the intervening hours, with the feelings of former days, in hope and

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assurance that the great Change from rising importance to diminishing influence can have no Effect upon an affectionate commerce of Half a Century." In his opinion, their marriage was an unqualified success. "The retrospect is the principle Consolation in all vicissitudes and all Evils to believe that I was once the chosen of your Heart - & share it still with our offspring. God continue to bless you my dear friend with similar Consolation."32 It would appear, then, that Anne and William had an ideal marriage. So it must have seemed to the rest of York society. Anne's behaviour toward her husband certainly would have been approved of by the writers of conduct books of her day. Thomas Gisborne, in his 1797 Enquiry into the Duties of the Female Sex, pointed to "three particulars, each of which is of extreme and never ceasing concern to the welfare of mankind, [in which] the effect of the female character is most important." The first lay "in contributing daily and hourly to the comfort of husbands" and others in the home "in the intercourse of domestic life, under every vicissitude of sickness and health, of joy and affliction." The woman was also to be a devoted mother, "modelling the human mind during its early stages of growth." But in addition to these responsibilities there was a higher duty, that of "forming and improving the general manners, dispositions, and conduct of the other sex, by society and example."33 This was certainly not intended to be a position of dominance; as the Earl of Chesterfield's daughter-in-law Eugenia Stanhope, in her 1790 Deportment of a Married Life, unequivocally stated, "There is only one path by which a married woman can arrive at Happiness, and this is by conforming herself to the Sentiments of her Husband."34 Rather, she was to influence passively, by example and sensitive attention to her husband's moods. In 1782 in Essays Addressed to Young Married Women, Elizabeth Griffith counselled: It is the duty of a wife not only to regulate her own Temper towards her husband but also to pay such an attention to his, as may prevent it, from ever appearing in a disagreeable light. By studiously observing the proper seasons for the different subjects on which she may have occasion to address him, she may, imperceptibly to him, and almost to herself, obtain the power of guiding his concurrence or denial. A sensible and virtuous woman, pursuing such a line of conduct for the mutual advantage of her husband and family, without any selfish views, which only little minds are capable of, comes nearest to the idea that mortals are taught to conceive of a Guardian Angel, who, unseen, directs our doubtful choice to what is best, and leads our erring steps into the paths of happiness and peace.35

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William, in keeping with the predictions of the conduct advisers, responded to Anne's exemplary devotion to his needs by acknowledging with love and respect her moral superiority and dominion in her proper domestic sphere. It is, however, true in all ages that the reality of marriage rarely measures up to the ideal. Some historians have pointed to a notion of companionate marriage that developed along with the new ideal of middle-class womanhood. But, as Suzanne Lebsock has commented, "Companionate marriage only describes the general direction in which marriages were moving; it was an ideal that influenced behaviour, but as with all ideals, it was often difficult for real people to achieve." In her study of early nineteenth-century Petersburg, she observed that marriage "was fundamentally asymmetrical. Men retained the upper hand in almost every aspect of marriage; mixed with the new ideal of mutual affection and respect were substantial amounts of male dominance and coercion."36 Similarly, William and Anne's union, although an enduring one, was not without its drawbacks, particularly from Anne's perspective. Although William's letters to other friends and relatives rarely mention his wife and family, his correspondence with Anne belies this seeming indifference. William's expression was intense, emotion, and at times, passionate. In 1822, at the age of sixty-seven, he wrote to Anne during a period of political setback in terms that seem more suitable to a young lover. "My very soul yearns to yours,"37 he declared, "to you and you only ... does my sense & feeling return with warmth & force of affection & Tenderness Store it as seasonable about you ... beloved one ever dearest wife."38 A visit to where they had lived in England "could not fail to awaken in my bosom the delightful sense of past Enjoyment with you in this gloomy abode, enlivened only by your affection and my ardent love."39 "God bless you my beloved Anne, do not deride the assurance that my affection is still as warm [as in] the most indulgent period of our youth.'M° William's intensity of feeling was not matched by Anne, however. She often expressed concern for his health and welfare, but never did she reveal emotions as strong as those of her husband. Most of her correspondence with him was matter-offact and cheerful. To some extent, it appears that this was just what William needed. His passionate nature, hidden from the public, often led him to private and forceful displays of emotion. "On my arrival in John St. last Evening," William wrote from London, England, in 1822, "I was somewhat disappointed at finding no letters of any kind and for the first time since my arrival experienced that Sensation of a void which you have frequently heretofore witnessed

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to have affected me with an indescribable Emotion like horror. I felt myself shorn off without a link to the world and was constrained to seek relief in retirement for on such occasions yours is the only bosom into which I can pour such feelings with any chance for sympathy."41 Anne's balanced and sober response to William's effusions appears to have had a calming influence on him, but it also reveals a comparative coolness toward her husband that, at times, tormented him. Although he often recalled the early days of their marriage with pleasure, she never referred to them. One wonders if their virtual elopement was born of the same passion for Anne as it was for William. Very early in their marriage, he doubted her affection for him, so much so that his sister was tempted to scold him. "Be not offended with me my dear William," she wrote, "if I find fault with your last - you are taking pains to make yourself miserable. Why will you endeavour to persuade yourself that Anne thinks of you with indifference? Has she not given every proof of affection that a woman can give?"42 Anne herself told her American cousins in 1779 that she and William had "been as happy as perfect esteem & tender affection could render us."43 But for William, this was never enough. There are hints that his doubts partly arose from Anne's lesser interest in the sexual aspect of marriage. Even after almost forty-five years together, he could not restrain himself from dashing to her side at Queenston, where Anne was attending her daughter Mary in childbirth. His reception was so chilly that the next time she visited Mary, he stayed away. The last intrusion, William complained, had "no agreeable recollections for me. I rendered you uncomfortable by such impatience the last time we met there." Evidently, his intention to "visit" Anne during the stopover of the steamboat was not her idea of a pleasant interlude. "I fear sometimes that I am mistaken," William complained, "and if it was supposed that all I sought was reciprocation of my own feelings I should not so often be mortified. It is too late now to complain or explain." He consoled himself with "the remembrance of my last reception."44 On a happier occasion, William wrote from New York in 1816 expressing gratitude for Anne's affection. "I could pass many days not disagreeably in this Society did Circumstances admit, but desire to return to your side renders irksome every moment's delay," he wrote; The Exercise in filling my several Engagements leaves little time for Indulgence of thoughts pleasant or unpleasant, but when my mind rests for

98 Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles a moment it is on the delightful I have enjoyed since your visit to this place, and the last Condescension with the ineffable Smile which accompanied it is a cordial renewing the most delightful recollections. Youth & Beauty in reality fade before Ideas so cherished, and I carry with me the Treasure you so playfully preferred in as perfect Effect on my Mind as if I had it under my hand - God bless you & those you love - I will endeavour to be comprehended in the blessing by every exertion to match it.45

William implies in this passage that there was at least some degree of reciprocation on Anne's part, but a "condescension" granted with an "ineffable smile" hardly indicates overwhelming enthusiasm.46 Anne herself was silent on the subject, but at times indicated weariness with her husband's many demands on her. Although she was careful to avoid criticism of William, sometimes her feelings got the better of her and she revealed her annoyance to her brother. William's over-sensitivity and highly strung emotional nature made him at times difficult to live with. He covered his feelings in public with an air of stern hauteur,47 but too often in private he gave way to ill humour. Alexander Grant, a family friend, remarked on his "pivishness" as a strong personality trait.48 This irritation and tension resulted in frequent headaches and even, at times, imagined ailments, such that on one occasion Anne was provoked to comment tartly that "Mr P is very well, tho' he does not always think so."49 Fortunately, work was a tonic to William and his submersion in it seemed to calm his restless temperament. "Mr P. is tolerably well," Anne explained to George in 1805, "but the solitude in which we live, after the continual bustle in which he has pass'd the summer is not favorable with regard to his spirits."50 During a busier time, she assured her brother that her husband "does not eat the bread of idleness; for the business of the Province occupies the greatest part of his time. However it seems to have a happy effect on his Health."5' During the period that Lieutenant-Governor Gore began to favour William, he was "constantly occupied with his public duties." "If they divest his mind from private Calamities," Anne wrote, "his Health receives the benefit."52 After William became chief justice and speaker of the Upper House, his workload increased and some days he was occupied "from eight o'clock in the morning till ten at night."53 The consequence of this busy schedule was that Anne had to plan her life around the demands of her husband's career. The heavy burden of constant entertaining fell on her shoulders, in addition to the management of the household and the care of her large family. All of this was done without the aid of her husband. "At present it is

99 Married Life impossible to speak to him on any subject other than legal or political," she complained to George during this busy time.54 In her letters to William, she rarely mentioned household matters but instead related political and public affairs that she knew would interest him much more. Indeed, everything domestic had to be undertaken not only alone but also in such a way that it would not inconvenience the head of the family. Anything noisy or disturbing that had to be done around the house was saved for the times when he was absent on the provincial circuit. "As usual Mr P's absence has been the signal for filling the house with workmen," Anne explained to George.55 She herself had little opportunity to get away from her large and noisy household. When her daughter Mary was about to deliver her first child, however, she was determined to go to her. "For once in my life," she declared, "I consult my own ease before that of my husband, who must for a few weeks relinquish my attendance."56 It was this visit that William was referring to when he wrote to her complaining of her coldness. It is true that William rewarded Anne with devoted love and confidence in her role as domestic manager. Still, he expected constant cheerfulness from her and was sometimes not sympathetic when she became anxious or depressed. Anne was his constant recourse from anxiety, but William did not always reciprocate. When he discovered at one point that she had complained to her brother George, he responded sharply. "I find by your last," he wrote, "that your sister had alarmed you by one of her fits of her Spirits with an Expression she too frequently indulges herself in when anything disturbs her. She had suffered much from Rheumatism in the Head and perhaps other Causes, but in all probability was perfectly well chearful & happy before her letter reached you as she is at this moment."57 Despite all of his professions of affection and concern, William's love for Anne was self-centred. It appears that he cared for her because of what she could do for his comfort and in practice hardly ever considered hers. Anne accepted this as her duty and seldom openly questioned the unequal nature of their relationship. One wonders if she harboured some rebellious feelings. She commented to George upon her daughter's marriage in 1818, in a tone that was uncharacteristically caustic. "Your niece Mary," she told him, "last evening assumed the certain cares and doubtful comforts of conjugal life."58 During William's productive years in the legal profession, he had many outlets for his energies which engaged his attention. When he left the bench, however, he lost this stimulating and engaging activity. The story of the last nine years of Anne and William's marriage

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- from his retirement and their golden wedding anniversary to his death in 1834- reveals a great deal about their relationship. With the children grown and his career ended, they focused more on each other than they had at any other time in their lives. Troublesome aspects of their marriage that had been manageable earlier became increasingly problematic for Anne in these later years. After being married to William for half a century, Anne could usually predict the direction in which his thoughts were proceeding. She realized that, in retirement, he would have time to brood on his political downfall and that were he constantly surrounded by his enemies he would become very bitter. She watched worriedly as William's mental state declined. "The consequences ... of unprincipled machinations," she wrote, "have combined to affect his mind and impairs those talents and energies which promised to render him useful to the end of his existence."59 "The truth is," she told George, "that the want of society and occupation corrodes his mind and renders him susceptible of vexation when there is in reality no excuse for it. With the most perfect health he considers himself sinking; and I am powerless to remove these fancies."60 William attempted to put a brave face on his situation. "Speak of me to those who make Enquiries as of one whose life & Enjoyment are revived by Liberty," he told George.6' The reality, however, was that he was restless and bitter. Anne did not compound his unhappiness by revealing her own regrets and fears. "God grant you may long enjoy the ease from mental labour which this late arrangement promises," she told him, gently urging him to guard against falling into a state of mental "lassitude," a prospect that made her apprehensive.62 Although to George Anne wrote of her anguish at leaving her home and family, to William she displayed only calm compliance. "Let no uncertainty harass your mind," she wrote of her agreement to sail to England.63 William, on the other hand, did not make dutiful obedience any easier by the inconsistency of his plans for the future. A lawsuit over the payment of an old debt at Montreal occupied his time during the winter of 1825-6 and no concrete plans were decided upon. He was also during this period more prone than usual to intense and erratic outbursts of emotion. "I shall expect to find you supported by your usual Philosophy," he apologized to Anne while on his way to Montreal, "and [hope] that my uncontrolled feelings expressed at my departure are in great measure forgiven and forgotten."64 Anne was relieved by this letter. She replied that it had "shed the first gleam of comfort my bewildered mind had experienced since your harried departure." Evidently, William's mental state had greatly frightened her. "During

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our long union," she continued, "I never recollect to have suffered such consternation as at that moment, nor till I heard from yourself that you were well and tranquil could I conquer the agitation which appeared like presentment of calamity."65 William was grateful for her concern: "You my beloved friend have so long indulged me in listening to my egotism, indeed encouraged me in that Course that I will not apologize."66 William's letters that winter continued to be full of intense emotion. He explained to George that "my attachment to one object resumes all the importance of its earliest days, and the only remaining Sense of warmth and imagination is in the retrospect of the past, and the cultivation of the present friendship of your sister."67 Anne, as usual, did not quite match William's enthusiasm. "Your letter my dearest friend," he chided her, "has upon the whole less in it of that tender interest that has been the Consoler of my Life, than any I have ever received from you."68 Anne was too concerned about the future to reciprocate William's romantic effusions. Although outwardly acquiescing in emigration, inwardly she rebelled against her fate. Only George was aware of her true feelings. Anne was not only dreading breaking the emotional bonds that tied her to York; she also feared for the fate of her unmarried daughter Eliza and two granddaughters, the children of her deceased son William. Who would watch over them and save them from possible destitution when she was gone? "A residence the other side of the water would reduce his income from 6 to 10 percent," she told George. This would "render more slender the means of support for Eliza and her nieces after we are gone."69 William continued to vacillate throughout the winter of 1825-6 on where he should live, considering Montreal, New York, and England and finally making no firm decision at all. Eventually, he resolved that at least a trip to England was absolutely essential, in order to ensure that his opponents would not be successful in having his pension suspended. After this matter was settled, he would return and make a final decision concerning where he and Anne would spend the rest of their days. All of this was confusing and upsetting for Anne. "In a conversation with Mr P this morning," she told George, "I find he considers it better for me to remain here than accompany him to England; as he means to return after having ascertained his ability to arrange some points he considers of importance." She was uncertain whether this was tjie best course of action, but reconciled herself to the fact that "My will and my conduct must be governed by him. I dare not assume the responsibility of opposition, and in this instance my feelingfs] are of a

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nature too complicated to think for myself." Anne was torn: "A separation from him is fraught with misery," yet "to abandon what is ... in our possession here, will prove incalculable injurious to the interest of our survivors." She concluded that "every way a great portion of mental suffering is before me."7° Unable to act for herself, Anne turned to God. "I trust in the power of Him who knows my earnest desire to perform my duty, to direct me, and afford strength to combat with the evils it is His will to inflict." This present crisis was, to her, typical of her whole life. "How vain hitherto has been my expectation, and how fallacious every prospect of tranquillity. Yet I have been wonderfully supported," she said in her usual stoic manner, "and will not despair; but continue to lift up my Heart in gratitude for the unmerited blessings I still possess."71 Anne did, however, take one decision in hand. Rather than remain in York, she resolved to spend the months that William would be away with her brother in New York. She urgently felt the need of his advice and emotional support. "Contrary to my usual system of acquiescence," she told George, "I have urged Mr P to permit me to accept your kind invitation."7" Accordingly, Anne and William travelled together to New York, arriving in time for his departure on i June 1826. William was once again to unsettle Anne with an abrupt change of plan. Shortly after his arrival in Liverpool, he wrote to Anne that he was "already satisfied that there is no residence where I could enjoy the distinction & station in Society I have been for so many years accustomed to, in which I could make you more independent & ensure your Comfort than on this island."73 His desire to be speedily reunited with her was so great that, without consulting her wishes, he immediately booked passage for her on a ship then leaving Liverpool. He wrote in a highly emotional manner that he had felt great "depression of spirits. ... Especially," he told her, since I left my beloved friend ... at no period of our union was my heart sensible to more kind & affectionate feeling than during the last 48 hours of being together but such was the dread of Separation as to mortify those sensations of personal tenderness which I feared to indulge in. If my dearest Anne could feel so as to miss the deficiency of ardour in my caresses since we quitted York, she will be gratified to know that with the flight of Care and painful retrospection I am restored to all the poignancy & delicat susceptibility of our early life and at no period ever longed more ardently to be restored to your arms - the desire pervades every moment of Existence and with retrospection and Anticipation leaves no other Care room to occupy my thoughts.74

103 Married Life William's sudden decision was indeed startling to Anne. For him, however, it was final. "I find from all quarters," he explained, "that my own residence in the Colony in any part or in any Seclusion will not save me from the vile suggestions of influencing the opposition to the Kings Government & of course subject [me] to disquietude which even in your Society would poison the short remains of Existence."75 William tried to gloss over the inconvenience and heartache this emigration would cause Anne. He even attempted to convince himself that it would be her happiest choice also. "I have reflected that our Residence in this Country may afford to you more Ease and Quiet than in America and at the same time by the rapid Communication of the weekly packets from Liverpool you may enjoy that intercourse by correspondence which conveys nearly equal Gratification as personal."7 Even at his most optimistic, William must have realized that letters would not be quite as consoling to his wife as he hoped. Therefore, he made a bold show of allowing her to make up her own mind and assuring her of his unselfish motives. "I will say nothing to bias your Judgement," he assured Anne; ... or the Determination you may come to, on this Occasion. I feel the weight of your ties to York and that as they Increase other Considerations must have less weight. Our personal affection is I hope unimpaired, on my part certainly, but that affection is probably less selfish than in the vigour of life when at times it became an overbearing passion heedless of all Consideration. It was never so with you but my gratitude for your kind & tender Indulgence through half a Century of wayward Existence, still warms my heart with a glow of youth, not so vehement but not less agreeable and in its nature less selfish, so that in reflection on this subject your happiness, or if not to be obtained, your Comfort supercedes all other Sentiments.77 William at first went so far as to offer to support Anne and visit her once a year if she chose to remain in North America. Soon, however, his self-control cracked. "Come my beloved friend to calm my agitated Spirit," he pleaded, "which at times, so much affects my mind and memory, that I fear the approach of second Childhood, and am allarmd for my reason."78 "In all the vicissitudes of our lives, I have known no more anxious moment as the present. ... My mind is now agitated in a manner I cannot recollect to have experienced. ... Pray to God my beloved friend that we both survive this Trial."79 This combination of childlike need for her support and almost tyrannical lack of concern for her autonomy was characteristic of Anne and William's marriage. John Tosh has noted this tendency in the relationship of the Victorian Mary Benson and her

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husband Edward. He has pointed out that nineteenth-century men could be both dominating patriarchs and needy children at one and the same time. "They could co-exist as two contradictory sides of men's expectations," Tosh has observed, "and both stood in the way of true companionship."80 William's anguished letters were indeed deeply disturbing to Anne, as was his insistence that she embark from New York for England immediately. He need not have doubted her compliance. Now that her husband's indecision was over, she acted with energy and purpose. But she could not satisfy his urgency for reunion. Foremost in her mind were considerations that William had barely contemplated. She wrote to him soberly and firmly. "It gives me more pain than I can express," she assured him, "to hesitate in the compliance with your wishes. You will do me but justice to believe [that] to indulge my own feelings without consideration of consequences would lead me to take my passage [immediately]." However, "I am perfectly convinced that mature reflection would lead you to think the precipitation selfish and unjust." It was impossible for Anne to consider leaving her family without at least saying a personal farewell. William had thoughtlessly booked passage for her only and had not considered the fate of their thirty-seven-year-old spinster daughter. "In other words," Anne explained, "I am aware that the trial of leaving Eliza would be beyond my power to endure, nor would her sufferings be much inferior to my own."8' Where would Elizabeth live if Anne were to leave suddenly for England? In addition there were the two unmarried, fatherless granddaughters, Anne and Mary, to consider; some means had to be found for their support. Another consideration for Anne was the property that they were to leave behind in Upper Canada. William had recklessly wished to burn all their bridges and immediately divide the property among their heirs, but she felt this was imprudent. Clearly, one last visit to York was necessary for her to sort out these details. "I think I shall immediately return to York," Anne told her husband, "raise what will support those I leave behind, and furnish me with the means to return here on my way to embark [for England] before the season is too far advanced."82 Anne's confidence in dealing with these financial matters greatly contrasted with her inability to cope with the millinery business over fifty years earlier. The experience gained in managing a large and complicated household evidently had resulted in solid practical knowledge. "I do certainly feel harassed," she admitted, "but will trust to be supported thro' whatever trials may await me; risking anything rather than an interminable separation from you, or the misery which

105 Married Life must attend your return to the spot where I had hoped we should terminate our days in peace surrounded by our descendents."83 William was nonplussed at Anne's reply to his urgent summons and perhaps not a little embarrassed at having forgotten about the rest of the family. "The difficulty you state as to Eliza and your orphan Granddaughters," he wrote, "was so little thought of by me that I cannot account for it arising in your mind. I never had an idea they would quit you."84 William's attitude of indifference toward his female offspring and his assumption that they were Anne's responsibility were typical of his behaviour throughout their marriage. Anne accomplished all that she had proposed to do in York to prepare for her departure, returning to New York with Elizabeth in time to sail by mid-November 1826. It was a hard parting for her. "You will unite with me in offering thanks for the mercies we have received where thanks are due; and pray that the result of this arduous undertaking may be equally propitious to my hopes," she wrote to George; "of expectations I am unable to speak, for Circumstances preclude all possibility of forming any." Anne's mood was gloomy on the eve of her departure. "Should any fatal event prevent this anticipated happiness, which to promote I have sacrificed so much; He who wills it can alone support the survivor."85 Anne fortunately had a safe and rapid passage that reunited her later that same month with her unhappy husband. "I lament to say," she told George, "he appears to have been a great sufferer from the uncertainty respecting my plans and decisions." "It will be the study of my life to remedy the injury unavoidably inflicted by devoting myself to him."86 Despite Williams' unfortunate state, Anne was at first pleased about being back in her native land. She was now seventy-two, and the fact that it had been almost thirty years since her last visit there made her feel somewhat apprehensive. "We have excellent quarters," she wrote from Liverpool, "and everything English, which in spite of all evil report is and must be my preference. "87 Anne's early optimism soon disappeared. The Powells spent their first months in England visiting relatives in Tolpuddle, Dorsetshire, and Norwich. During this period, unexpected difficulties delayed payment of William's pension, which created a galling necessity for financial dependence. "During 46 years," Anne wrote to George, "I have been at the head of a family; holding a place in Society equal to those around me. Behold me now the occupier of a poor lodging, depending for a comfortable meal upon more fortunate relatives, and upon contingencies for the means of removing where I am equally unimportant and useless."88 Eventually the pension was

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paid, and the Powells decided to settle with William's younger sister Jane and her husband, the Reverend Mr Warren, at Tolpuddle. Their home exhibited all the delights of the stereotypical English country vicarage. The Warrens had gone to a great deal of trouble with renovations when they first moved there, and the gardens were well kept. The two families were most compatible and Tolpuddle, as yet untouched by the labour unrest of the 18305, was a sleepy village, perfect for retirement. This was not what the Powells were used to. In York, they had been at the centre of much social and political activity. A great deal of their time there had been characterized by conflict and unhappiness, but it had been engaging and exciting. At the vicarage, they received almost no company, a great contrast to the constant stream of visitors they had been used to at home. "However my age and quiet habits may render this retirement agreeable to me," Anne explained to George, "I cannot but see it is frequently otherways to Mr P and Eliza."89 She was herself not very well resigned to such tranquillity, however. Her thoughts turned longingly to Upper Canada, where she was important and not a mere colonial on the fringes of society. "Every day every hour convinces me that it is the only Country for us to make the most of our means," she wrote.90 The dissatisfaction they were experiencing, as might have been expected, led to discussions about returning. The decisive factor in determining the Powells' fate was, in any case, imminent. Late in 1828, William's adversary Sir Peregrine Maitland left his post as lieutenant-governor of Upper Canada and was replaced by Sir John Colborne. William knew of Colborne through connections in England and was no doubt pleased by his disapproval of some of the policies of John Strachan.91 This factor was enough to tip the balance and persuade the Powells to return to Upper Canada. Their long residence in colonial society had changed them so that they no longer felt at home in England. Although they remained on good terms with the Warrens, conflicts had developed with some of their other relatives in England. They felt alien in what seemed now to be a strange country. Again Anne prepared for emigration, this time with a joyful heart. "May the Almighty protect us thro' approaching dangers, and mercifully grant our safe arrival in a Country, where I am better understood and appreciated," she wrote to George. "So many events unexpected as undesired have combined to abate natural regrets, that I shall bid adieu to my native Kingdom with comparative ease; a good originating in disappointment for which I ought to be grateful."98 In late June of 1829, Anne, William, and their daughter

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Elizabeth returned to Upper Canada. William's resolve to abandon the scene of his political downfall had withstood the pull of homesickness for just three years. The final years of William's retirement following their return to York should have been happy ones. Anne was delighted by the warm reception they received from family and friends. However, Anne's life with William had never been easy for her. His difficult behaviour became increasingly erratic as he aged. The last years of their married life were anguished ones for her as she watched him deteriorate, helpless to prevent either his decline or the consequences of his ill-judged actions. William had always suffered the emotional pain experienced in life by the acutely sensitive, but, as he grew older, more severe mental difficulties appeared. Soon after Anne joined him in England, she had noted that "his Memory is becoming very defective; and I am often obliged to take the place of a memorandum Book."93 "It is strange that my inferior intellect should enable me to discover any diminution of his so remarkable for superiority."94 After their return to York, he continued to deteriorate. "I begin to be sensible of rapid decay in my Memory and Sight," he admitted to George, "which deprive me of the great Indulgence of Books. I have withdrawn entirely from all public duties, and limit my attention to my garden and neighbouring farm."95 This occupation Anne considered to be "an expensive amusement of doubtful benefit." However, "it is better than to sit day after day harassing his mind and destroying his health by gloomy recollections of what cannot be recalled or remedied or by indulging in an undue irritation, destructive to the comfort of others."96 Indeed, "Mr P takes no interest in anything in or about the House. His whole time and attention are devoted to the Farm."97 The property that William was devoting so much money and time to was land that Anne had been hoping to leave intact for their heirs. He had not yet written a will, and she was anxious that he take stock of his financial affairs and ensure that some means of support would be left for the unmarried females in the family. Yet she was unable to say anything directly about this matter to William. A good wife did not meddle in her husband's business affairs. Accordingly, she turned to another man, her brother George, for help. "My wishes may be better conveyed as your advice than my own expressions," she explained to him.98 "Your presence can be nowhere more desirable than in our dwelling." "Mr P. has many arrangements to make in which we are all concerned and waits for your aid and advice. No man ever more wanted a judicious friend

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and adviser than himself. His vacillating mind, discomforts me from apprehension of [his] sanctioning one day; what he has just cause to regret the next. With his ample income we ought not only to experience no wants but have the power to dispence comforts to others. I deeply regret, experiencing neither one nor the other."99 Anne's fears that William was mismanaging his money were well founded. Too often in the past he had foolishly lent money to relatives, much of which was never recovered. Particularly upsetting to Anne was William's decision to be guarantor on a loan for £500 to their nephew Charles K. Murray in 1822, which came due earlier than expected, owing to the death of the creditor. William also spent lavish sums on family members for what she saw as extravagant luxuries when he was visiting in England that year.100 Anne angrily complained about this to George, even though she was "aware of the impropriety of presuming to reflect upon any act of my Husband."101 When she first discovered his "vast engagement," her "heart sickened."102 Although she had her own small independent income from an annuity that she had inherited from her Aunt Elizabeth, for the most part William controlled its use. In this case, for several years it was allocated to the paying of her nephew's debt. Anne was fearful that her husband, in his debilitated state, might again do something rash without her knowledge. Fortunately, on this occasion William also felt the need of George's advice. "My Mind and Memory is fading fast," he wrote, "and it will be a great relief to have you at my side in winding up my embarrassed affairs."103 It was fortunate for Anne that George obeyed their urgent summons and a will was duly drawn up. William left all to Anne's control, and, in case of her death, ensured generous inheritances for the unmarried girls.104 Anne must have been greatly relieved that her offspring would not have to choose between a life of dependence on others and the degrading necessity of performing ungenteel waged labour in the public sphere. William's will ensured the well-being of his family only after his death, however, and the intervening period was full of fear and worry for Anne. His mental condition continued to worsen, and in the three years before his death in 1834, ne suffered a series of mild, but increasingly debilitating, strokes. It is possible that he was suffering from Alzheimer's disease. During such attacks, he would experience total loss of memory which would terrify Anne. "I must lament," she confided in George, "the very weakened mind and almost total loss of memory in my Husband. Recent events make not the slightest impression."105 During William's bad spells, Anne related, "his countenance exhibited the resemblance of idiocy, and

log Married Life

could not fail to shock me greatly. You can [have] no idea of the imbecility of his mind when these attacks occur, and for day[s] after they pass away."106 Anne could do very little to protect her husband from the consequences of his illness. "Mr P. had a fall in the Street on Sunday," she wrote. Fortunately, a friend brought him home safely but with a badly hurt hand and a bruised temple. "However after submitting to confinement yesterday he has gone out this morng. There is no restraining him in any way."107 On another occasion, he wandered out into the snow wearing only slippers,108 and, still another time, was only just "prevented by the interference of a kind friend from embarking in a steamboat without money and with only the clothes on his back."109 This was not the first time that William had suddenly departed from York. In October of 1833, Anne experienced "a shock, never anticipated amidst the various trials ... of my long life. While waiting Dinner for one who has a right to its best comforts, a note was brought to inform me of his departure in a Boat which had gone to Hamilton some hours before, with an intention to proceed to Niagara probably to Kingston." This unplanned excursion was alarming to Anne. "You may imagine its effect on my anxious mind; aggravated by knowledge of exposure to the cold without even a great Coat or Cloak, and without pecuniary means to procure them, or even to obtain necessary food. In a state of ignorance I remained three days," Anne told George, "when a return in the Canada removed fears of personal suffering."110 Dangerous as William's behaviour was to his own safety, Anne could not "escape unharmed from the intense anxiety produced by the malady of my Husband, in whose weal and woe my own have been identified the last 58 years of my existence."1" Suddenly the commanding husband had become not only confused, but worse, an uncontrollable child. Both propriety and the habits of years of obedience to his wishes prevented Anne from restraining William. William's general lack of interest in family matters became even more pronounced as his health continued to decline. "I have endeavoured to lead him to think it would be a source of comfort, would he indulge feelings of affection towards those who have a just claim upon them - but it is in vain," Anne complained to George.1 ia She wished he could "find amusement upon our home premises. Unhappily the slightest expence incurred to render them habitable is considered as undue.""3 Yet, "a Fabricated tale by a Stranger, however improbable it appears to others, will excite all his energies, and they are frequently rewarded by the conviction, when too late that they have been used to a vain, and sometimes injurious pur-

no Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles pose."114 The practical consequence of William's lack of interest in domestic affairs was an even greater focus of interest on his property, to which he devoted all of his time and ever greater sums of money. Anne lived in fear of "pecuniary disgrace." "You will say with me," she complained to George, "that with my Husband's income I ought to be exempted from these anxieties." William's memory loss caused him to have "no recollection of expenditure; not infrequently taking a large sum from the Receiver Genl., giving me a small portion and in a few weeks entirely forgetting the transaction or in what way the money had been expended." Much of this money went on improvements to his property. In one year alone, "more than half his income" was spent "in erecting buildings on the Park Lot, which are and must be utterly unserviceable and unproductive.""5 One of these buildings was a large and elaborate family tomb, which Anne had not been consulted about and did not wish to be buried in. When William had it consecrated, an elaborate reception was held to mark the occasion. "Mr P. expressed no desire that the Females of his family should attend, a circumstance we considered as an interdict," Anne complained."6 During these last years, William, who had always confided in his wife, grew more and more distant. He continued to dwell on the unhappy incidents of his past. "It is unfortunate that whilst subjects of pleasure and amusement are totally erased from his memory those of disquiet and disgust are recollected with increased aggravation." "The habit of concealment," Anne said, "keeps me ignorant of causes, while I am greviously the sufferer from effects. This is lamentable for both; for surely nothing can afford more certain consolation than sincere and affectionate sympathy.""7 William's behaviour "painfully impressed" upon Anne's mind "the conviction that no regard for my feelings will ever restrain the indulgence of irritation, or the reckless expenditure which causes the difficulties by which it was excited." "I trust the Almighty will strengthen my mind to support such scenes and enable me to perform the duty incumbent upon me, and from which to the best of my recollection I have never wilfully departed.""8 Anne's unhappiness was compounded by her sense of her husband's humiliation in the eyes of others. "All these things come before the public," she explained to George, "and renders a character which was wont to be viewed with respect and admiration, a subject of ridicule if not contempt.""-' There was little that Anne could do to mitigate the effects of William's behaviour in order to protect her family. The conduct prescribers of her day had failed to provide the proper solution to the dilemmas Anne faced throughout the final portion of her marriage.

in Married Life She was afraid that her influence over William was lessening daily. "Even urging the forlorn state of the two Females depending on us for subsistence is ineffectual," she complained, "and always answered in language inconsistent with the character of a husband or a father."120 Yet for Anne, as for all married women of her day, there was no way out of such a situation. As long as her husband lived, Anne's duty was obedience. On 6 September 1834, William died. "The intensity of this calamity," Anne wrote, "is augmented by my indulgence of hope ... that his fearful pains terminated in admittance to a life of eternal happiness, in which I may share when my terrestial duties have been performed." She attempted to react to William's death as a Christian should. "You see I am calm," she told George, "I have sought for fortitude and the power to perform the heavy duties of my widowhood, upon that source where it can alone emanate; and arose this morning with ability to remove the covering and view the rigid countenance once beaming with love and affection, now emaciated beyond description."121 When the initial shock wore off, Anne's self-control gave way. Her feelings were those of "indescribable misery." She felt lost without William and with little motive for "perserverence" in the "exertion" of living, which, she lamented, "during nearly three fourths of my long life has been devoted to promote the comfort of one who was I hope and believe conscious of the governing principles of [my] actions."122 With her husband's death, she felt as if her life had lost its purpose. Worse, she was crippled with a crushing load of guilt, as if her criticism of him had been the cause of his decline and death. She felt that somehow the unhappiness of her late married life was the result not of William's mental state but of her own failure to live up to the standards of proper wifely behaviour. Anne anxiously reviewed her conduct toward William. "Pardon the impatience of my agitated Mind ... [and] my widowed heart," she wrote unhappily to George on the sad day that would have been her fifty-ninth wedding anniversary. To describe its bitter feelings is beyond the power of language. Every object every occurence brings before me a more keen sense of this lamentable separation from my beloved companion and dearest Friend. I study to fix my thoughts upon every proof of approbation, which in the course of our union, gave me confidence in my own judgement, and of every mark of true affection, which it has ever been the reward of my solicitude to promote his happiness. But these reflections are overpowered by recollection of a different description; my opposition to an indulgence fraught with difficulties and embarrassments tho' upon the principle of averting the

112 Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles unavoidable evil, was I fear carried too far. I should have considered this as the sole means of diverting his sensitive mind from dwelling on the base ingratitude of those on whom he had conferred unimpeachable benefits. It was a subject on which all communication terminated in irritation; and altho' at such times I thought I maintained the utmost forbearance, all is changed from self approbation, to bitter and unavailing regret.123

One wonders why Anne felt burdened with such guilt about her husband's last years. Surely her behaviour throughout her and William's marriage had been exemplary and in accordance with the highest principles of propriety. She had been the mainstay of her husband, providing him with constant emotional reinforcement and a comfortable, well-run household suitable to their position in the social hierarchy. Perhaps her uneasiness had more to do with thought than deed. Real life, as she experienced it, was hardly identical with the conduct-book ideal. Although William supported her financially and was a faithful and affectionate husband, Anne was never able to feel totally secure. Her fears became especially acute when it appeared that he might squander everything and leave her a penniless widow, unable to support herself in her proper station in life. For a woman of her education and class, only a reliable well-off man or independent means could ensure security. And however intelligent or able the woman, it was not easy for her to see to her own welfare in a society that excluded women from the world of government and business. Anne was fortunate in that she had another male to rely upon whose sympathy could validate her complaints and who could intervene on her behalf in the public sphere - her faithful brother George.

5 Brothers: George and John

It was not surprising that Anne turned to George in her grieving and guilt-ridden state after the death of William in 1834. For the better part of her life, she had relied on her "beloved Brother and now dearest Friend" for emotional support. "To you I look for aid and assistance," she wrote to her confidant of many decades, "to rescue from oblivion the memory of my ... Husband." Anne appealed to George to hasten to Upper Canada and stressed that her "craving anxiety" to hear from him "renders the daily disappointment another drop in the bitter Cup the Almighty hath destined [me] to drink to its very dregs."1 Carroll Smith-Rosenberg has observed such intensity of feeling between nineteenth-century sisters, mothers and daughters, and female friends. She suggests that the strict division of male and female spheres of activity made the sexes virtual strangers.2 We know that Anne kept up a long-term correspondence with her mother and her sister Mary, but almost none of these letters have survived. Fortunately, she also wrote faithfully to her favourite brother. Anne and George may have been somewhat atypical in their especially close relationship. The history of sibling relationships has only just begun to be written, and the strong attachment between Anne and George may prove, on the other hand, to be more common than we might think. Davidoff and Hall point out that model brother-sister bonds followed the same pattern as other masculine-feminine relationships, but without the sexual component

ii4 Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles

of marriage. That meant that they were often more idealized and surrounded with the nostalgia of remembered youth.3 Even though Anne was George's elder by ten years, she behaved as if it was she who was the younger sibling. She described herself as being utterly dependent on their continued closeness. Part of the reason why Anne so cherished her relationship with George was that she needed his practical as well as his emotional support. The division of public and private spheres along gender lines frequently prevented Anne from being able to act openly on her own behalf. Her husband was supposed to be her "protector," and for most of their marriage performed that role adequately. But when his intellect began to degenerate with age and illness, Anne was caught with no means of remedying his financial follies or ensuring that he would not leave her and their daughters penniless. It is also clear that she perceived herself as unable to do anything on her own behalf, that such action would be unsuitable, a violation of "propriety." What was not inappropriate, however, was to call upon a sort of champion, a chivalric male who could represent her interests in the public sphere and who would intervene for her. George provided her with this and other kinds of support throughout her life, even extending his fraternal role into a paternal one in watching over Anne's children and grandchildren. Anne's special relationship with George was indeed her great good fortune. None of her other brothers was so inclined, and in fact John, the eldest Murray boy, who was Anne's junior by one year, sought to deprive her of her full inheritance from her Aunt Elizabeth. The contrast between the behaviour of these two brothers toward their sister points to one of the tragic flaws in the idealized rhetoric of "True Womanhood": the fate of the properly domesticated woman was largely dependent on the good will of the men close to her. If they were immune to moral and social pressure, her life could be very difficult indeed. Luckily for Anne, the deficiencies of William and what may have been the active ill will of John were amply compensated for by her most faithful George. The friendship that was to be such a source of support throughout Anne's life was begun, perhaps in the years that Anne and William spent in England after their marriage, but certainly during the unhappy months of 1785 at North Yarmouth. When William was away on business, Anne, shunned by her hostile in-laws, turned to George for companionship. Except for her brother, she wrote in 1785 to Elizabeth Inman in Boston, "I have no one to whom I can communicate my feelings."4 "Had not my brother been with me, I

H5 Brothers do not think I could have supported the anxieties I have suffered this winter."5 The friendship with George began in the early days of Anne's married life and survived an intervening twenty years of only sporadic visits and correspondence. This was the period when her husband's career necessitated four moves and a major transatlantic family voyage and when the demands of Anne's numerous children grew increasingly heavy. Not until the family was settled at York in 1804 and the children almost grown did she begin the very frequent and regular correspondence with George that was to last from age forty-six to her death over forty-five years later. From then on, in times of family crisis, George was Anne's constant support. He married twice, first in 1790 to Olivia Lowne, who died three years later, and then in 1795 to Elizabeth Higglebotham. More than once, and despite his own family obligations, he hastened to York in response to her urgent summons. His and his wife's home in New York was always open to her. Carroll SmithRosenberg has pointed out that it was common among the middle class in the nineteenth century to send daughters away to school for a year or two. Usually, the location chosen was near the residence of one of the mother's childhood friends or a female relative who would serve as a foster-mother. Anne followed this familiar pattern when she educated her granddaughters, but instead chose her brother as the surrogate parent.6 "Your fatherly care of my William's Orphan Children," Anne acknowledged to George, "has not only afforded unspeakable relief; but obtained for me a degree of tranquil satisfaction."7 Her own daughters, though not as formally educated, were sent on visits to New York, where they would have the opportunity to mix in a more cosmopolitan society than that available in Upper Canada. George extended his fatherly role to Anne's sons as well, in particular to Jeremiah when he was apprenticed to a merchant in New York. When "Jerry's" escapades resulted in family crisis in 1806, it was partly owing to the efforts of his uncle that the situation was resolved. "My affection and gratitude to you my Dear & ever attentive Friend is augmented," Anne wrote of that time. "In every blessing I enjoy I trace your interference & in those I yet anticipate, your active & benevolent mind, makes me consider you as the immediate agent in the hand of Providence to secure them for me."8 Even William acknowledged the strength of the bond between sister and brother. "It is obvious," he wrote of Anne, "that she leans much on your kind and brotherly attention."9 Little did he realize that George's role was also that of confidant.

ii 6 Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles

Only to her brother could Anne fully express her feelings and air her grievances against her husband. A good wife normally did not criticize her spouse's actions, as Anne was well aware. "Perhaps I am not justified in saying all this to you," she conceded on one such occasion, "but my best of Brothers, I cannot conquer the habit of confidence which has afforded me consolation in the greatest difficulties in my long and frequently calamitious Pilgrimage."10 "You are the only human being to whom I can fully explain whatever concerns my weal or woe," she explained on another occasion.11 Nevertheless, Anne did not wish anyone else to know that she had dared to speak ill of her husband. "I do not wish what I have said to be imparted to anyone but your most excellent Wife, my dear and kind Sister, nor would I wish you to notice it in your letters to me."12 It was only during personal visits that Anne could fully exchange confidences with or seek advice from her brother. Thus, for example, in 1826, when she was tormented by William's decision to emigrate, she travelled to New York to consult with George. "To my last breath," she assured her brother en route to England, "the recollection of the last summer passed under your most comfortable roof, and in receiving daily and hourly almost uniform proofs of affection from you and my inexpressibly dear sister, will cheer whatever hours of future distress it will be my fate to endure."'3 When, after their return to Upper Canada, William's mental state deteriorated alarmingly, it seemed only natural to turn to George for help. "The counsel of a dear and disinterested Friend is ... invaluable," she told him. "Where except in yourself can one find one?"14 Her desperate appeal to George to come to her aid after William's death, then, was typical of their relationship over the years. "Indeed I feel on all occasions that next to himself," Anne wrote to George of her husband in 1826, "you are my only dependence."15 "I will wait with submission your efforts and arrangements," she assured him after William's death, "relying upon your best exertions to accomplish what is so important to the peace of my declining life."'6 Clearly, there was a special and intimate bond between Anne and George. It is unfortunate that none of his letters to her survive, which prevents us from seeing more of his view of the relationship, or knowing many details about his life. It was important enough to him that he at least began work on a biography of Anne. He collected many of her letters together for this purpose, even writing short summaries of them.'7 The present book could not have been written had it not been for George's careful preservation of over fifty years of letters from his sister Anne. The feelings between them

i i y Brothers

were mutually affectionate, fostered by a rapport deepened by years of George's advice and support as well as their proximity to each other in North America. Anne's other close sibling, Mary, had remained in England, and their contact, though cordial, was hampered by distance. Anne had other brothers and sisters in America that she was not as close to as Mary. John, Elizabeth, Robert, and James all had emigrated from the Old World to the New. Her relationship with Elizabeth was friendly but distant, and with Robert and James she rarely communicated. This may have been at least partly because of the problem between her and John. This brothersister relationship became openly hostile, and provides a dramatic contrast to her closeness with George. The trouble between Anne and John began with Elizabeth Inman's death in 1785 and by 1817 was so acute that William was prompted to observe that "The family at New York are at such deadly variance that I almost shrink from Contact with any part of it but ... the younger branches in England.'"8 Elizabeth Inman's supposed responsibility for fomenting discord lay in the unconventional nature of her will. As in life she was particularly concerned about the welfare of her nieces and friend's daughters, so too in death she made special provision for them. Elizabeth was a wealthy, childless woman, and her nephews, although not actually wishing her death, must certainly have looked forward to some benefit from it. The male members of the family had a rude awakening when they discovered that she had neglected their fortunes in favour of the women of the family. The fact that Elizabeth left a will at all was unusual. Under eighteenth-century British legal custom, a wife was completely absorbed by her husband's identity after marriage. This meant not only her adoption of his name and his assumption of ownership of her property but also the fact that she had no separate legal existence and could not, therefore, sign documents or make contracts. Normally, a wife could only dispose of her personal effects, such as clothing; no other property was hers to distribute while her husband lived. Should she attempt to make provision in a will for even such property as she had brought into the marriage, there was no legal obligation for her husband to obey her wishes. When Elizabeth married Ralph Inman, however, she not only was an experienced businesswoman but also had been married twice before. She knew that there were two ways by which a woman could avoid the legal liabilities of marriage. One was by antenuptial contract, an agreement entered into by a couple before they were wed, in which they specifically agreed that the woman be allowed to retain all of the

n8 Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles

freedoms of the single state after marriage. The key to such a document's legality was that the woman, being bound to no man, could contract with her fianc£ before the wedding ceremony. After marriage, there was no such recourse unless a legal will indicated that property was to be bestowed upon a woman for her sole use, free of her husband's control. Elizabeth took full advantage of her strong bargaining position during Ralph's courtship to ensure her control of her own considerable property through a complicated antenuptial agreement.'9 It stipulated, among other things, that she would be allowed to write a will. Ralph, as later events proved, did not really expect her to exercise these rights fully. Clearly, he did not understand the independent and strong character of the woman that he was about to marry."0 Elizabeth duly made up her will on her deathbed in May 1785. Its provisions were to shock the entire family. Ralph expected that the bulk of the estate would be left to him; instead, he received a paltry annuity of £100. Her nieces Mary and Betsey each received £1,000, and Betsey's sister Dorothy Forbes was given £500. Many smaller amounts and odd bits of property were given to various female relatives and friends. The largest provision of all, however, was the £2,000 left to Anne. Property worth at least that amount was put aside for her support. She was to be paid from the rents an amount of approximately £120, an annuity equal to the going rate of interest on £2,000. Two of Elizabeth's nephews, John Innes Clark and Anne's older brother John, were to administer the annuity. Their only benefit was that they could keep any profits resulting from either renting or selling the property. Upon Anne's death, the principal was to be divided equally among her children. After providing for all of the females, Elizabeth left the "residue" to her only living brother, Anne's father, to be divided among the children not already provided for upon his death. John Innes Clark, John Murray Jr, and Betsey's future husband, Edward Robbins, as executors of the estate, received but a gold ring each for their trouble. As the final crowning affront to the men of the family, all of the property given to the women was for their "own personal Use & Disposal," independent of male control.21 Elizabeth was wise enough and knew her husband well enough to make provision to force him to comply with her wishes. She stipulated that his annuity was not to be paid until he surrendered all the legal documents necessary for carrying out her will. This precautionary measure, as it turned out, was necessary. Ralph behaved very badly indeed after his wife's death. Betsey complained to her cousin Mary that he had hounded Elizabeth on her deathbed

ng Brothers and afterward was in "a state of distraction." This was not due to grief. "He alternately curses your family," Betsey related, "ours & even his own Children ... because he has not got the whole of the estate or such a part of it as he requested." Betsey was shocked that Ralph, a month after the funeral, had "as yet declined giving up the Papers belonging to the estate."22 Indeed, it took him several months to finally comply with the terms of the will. There are indications that he may even have contested it or at least applied pressure to his step-nieces to accept lesser sums. Ten years after their aunt's death, Mary wrote from Norwich to her cousin Betsey, "I do not wonder at your seldom mentioning Mr Inman - it had been well for us had he never existed." With their cousin Dorothy, "you and Myself are the chief sufferers by him," Mary declared. "What I am to do I know not, if the moiety I have consented to take is not regularly paid."23 Ralph had managed at least to some extent to thwart the full implementation of Elizabeth's wishes. The immediate reaction of the rest of the men of the family is less clear. However, late in life, Anne was to reflect on the circumstances surrounding her aunt's decision and the family's reaction to it. At the time of her death, Elizabeth had been receiving Anne's unhappy letters from North Yarmouth. It must have appeared that the young couple were off to a very shaky start in life. "Our kind benefactress," Anne wrote of her aunt to George, considering herself as having promoted my Marriage considered as a duty to make provision for its consequences, and from this principle devised a greater proportion of her Estate than to any other Legatee. I knew of her intention and in vain remonstrated against the proceeding from the conviction that I should be suspected of undue influence by those whose confidence and affection were necessary to my happiness. This was too prophetic. ... [It] affected the mind of our beloved and revered Parent [Dr John Murray], and for a brief period weakened that confidence in my integrity and fillial duty it had been the greatest pride of my life to merit. Such was our benevolent aunts attachment to me and my beloved Husband such her pride in his talents, as to leave little doubt that he possessed a degree of influence which if exerted might have afforded real cause of accusation. His mind was superior to sordid or unjust efforts, and had a similar spirit operated in the minds of the Executors, the declining life of our revered Parent would have been spared the painful doubts and suspicions which threw a shade over his high intellectual mind.24

Anne undoubtedly idealized her own and William's moral superiority in this business, contrasting it with what she saw as the unjusti-

1ao Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles

fied rancour of the executors of the estate. On another occasion, she defended the provisions of Elizabeth's will on a more pragmatic basis. Her aunt's intention, she asserted, was "to leave the trustees an equal portion with myself. One of them I have been told received from my Aunt £1000 upon entering into partnership ... the other, pecuniary assistance at his first outset in business. They were both becoming rich and independent men, while we were struggling to maintain a large and growing family, whose welfare was an object of the warmest and most affectionate solicitude to my revered benefactress."25 Anne's brothers would not have seen things in this light, however. They would likely have argued that Anne was a married woman, under the care of a man with more education and influence than they were ever to have. Had not their father at least partly supported them in England while William received his legal training? They had been sent away to America and had to find their own way in the world. As well, they might have suspected that Anne's unhappy letters from North Yarmouth were calculated to sway their aunt, who was already feeling guilty not only for having forced Anne into the millinery business but also for condoning what some saw as an elopement. Prior to Elizabeth's death, all three of Anne's absent American brothers wrote regularly to their sister.26 By 1805, she was barely speaking to John and complained that "Robert has dropped me as a correspondent."27 Only George was still in regular contact with her. "What should I have been, my beloved George," Anne wrote, "had you possessed that aversion to the pen which marks the characters of some of your brothers."28 This estrangement was at least partly due to Anne's inheritance and was intensified by events that followed. Before Anne and William left North Yarmouth to resettle in Montreal in 1785, the third executor, Robbins, paid her £60 of her inherited annuity in advance, and she expected an additional £60 before the year was out. From that time, however, Anne was not given anything more until she received £110 at Detroit in the summer of 1792. There were by then several hundred pounds still due to her. Anne and William decided that this money should be collected, in person if necessary. The Powells' living conditions at Detroit were unpleasant at that time because of William's conflicts with the local Indians. The feet that the boys were at an age to benefit from being placed in British schools was a further motivation for Anne to travel, first stopping in New York, where she would meet her brother John and sort out her annuity. She fully expected the arrears to finance her trip to England. Accordingly, in

121 Brothers

October 1792, she, her sister-in-law Nancy, six of the Powell children, and two servants commenced what turned out to be a very unpleasant journey. When Anne arrived at New York, she discovered that John was not there to meet her as expected but was at home in Alexandria, Virginia. (Shortly after, he and his family moved to New York City.) When she arrived at his house in Alexandria, he told her that he was leaving the next day for Boston and would arrange all when he returned. "The delay was most vexatious," Anne recalled, "and ... added to the events of the last few months. I had a severe attack of fever. My children were also variously indisposed."29 Anne had not yet recovered from her illness when John returned with some bad news. Anne learned, "with surprise and dismay, that on his visit to Boston he had found [that] the houses set apart for my annuity" were in a state of complete disrepair. Unless immediate action were taken, they would never yield £2,000 if sold, and could not support the payment of the full £120 per year. John and Anne's cousin Clark therefore proposed that Anne relinquish a quarter of her annuity to repair the houses. The arrears due her would not be paid unless she would consent to this measure. When Anne protested, John replied that he had wanted an even greater reduction but Clark would not comply. Her feeling was that the property, even in disrepair, would be worth much more than £2,000 if sold, but John refused even to think of it. Quite likely, he wished to wait for the higher price they would command in good repair. In the end, Anne ceded to their request, on the understanding that her full annuity would be reinstated once the property was restored. John promptly produced a legal document for her to sign. "What was I to do?" Anne recalled. "Weakened in mind and body, responsible for the welfare of my Children, without pecuniary means to purchase a loaf of Bread, in a strange Country, an unhealthy Climate from which as the season advanced all were suffering, in [an] evil hour I signed the deed." The problem with the agreement that Anne had signed was that it did not, as she had thought, make the sacrifice of £30 annually a temporary measure. When she later met William in England, he "at once saw that I had been deceived."30 In this instance, Elizabeth Inman's good intentions had backfired. Had the annuity not been given for Anne's sole use, William would have had to sign the deed. His knowledge of the law would have prevented such an error. Anne still believed that John would honour what she saw as the basic intent of the agreement. It was a great surprise to her, then, when she heard in 1795 that the property had been sold. Soon after the Powell family left Detroit for Niagara, Anne went to her brother

122 Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles

to claim the additional £30 now due to her each year. "This demand was made by me," she reported, "and compliance refused in terms of violent resentment."31 John agreed to submit their dispute to arbitration by a third party of his choice, but only on the question of the legality of the bond that she had signed. Anne declined this offer, knowing only too well what the contract had stated. Thus the matter lay for many years. One wonders what John's defence against Anne's accusations would have been. Even if not actually fraudulent, his actions were certainly indicative of neglect or incompetence. It would appear that he simply did nothing about the annuity or the property for several years after Elizabeth Inman's death. Sometime before the property was sold, William had visited the tenants to ask them if it was true that the buildings had been in such poor condition. They told him that the property had never become as badly deteriorated as John had asserted. It was sold, Anne wrote, "Mr Rob[b]ins says well. ... He has the £2000, for which he pays J[ohn] I C[lark] & J[ohn] B M[urray] £120 annually."32 Of this, Anne received only £90 each year. It would appear then, that her brother and cousin pocketed the remaining £30. Although she realized that she had signed away part of her annuity, for some time Anne believed that John would eventually recognize her moral claim. She continued to have a cordial relationship with his wife, which gave her hope of his reformation. As she explained to George, "I am indebted to their [her nieces'] Mother, at whose hands, we have at all times received unequivocal marks of affectionate regard; & I think the hour will arrive, when her mistaken Husband, will see in its proper light the event which has been the cause of a breach, destructive of fraternal affection."33 Not long after they had heard of the sale of the property, most likely in 1797, William filed a suit in Chancery Court in the United States, claiming the balance of the annuity. This court's system of justice proceeded at a snail's pace and the case was still not resolved twenty years later. In 1818, Anne was compelled to appeal personally and directly to the trustees concerning her £30 per year. "In 1818 I was in New York," she recorded many years later, "where I met Mr Clark and called upon him to perform this act of justice. He assured me that he had given up all interference in this affair, it being entirely in my Brothers hands." Anne accordingly went to her brother John. "Application to him (J.B. Murray) was unavailing and would have interrupted that affectionate intercourse with my Sister and family which had been a source of pleasure to both parties."34

123 Brothers

For the sake of some sort of family unity, Anne again dropped the matter. John's behaviour, in Anne's opinion, became worse over time. Of all of the Murray brothers, only he became financially successful. As the richest and eldest son, he was expected by the rest of the family to support his aged mother by sending money home to England. Quite likely he resented being saddled with this extra responsibility and drain on his income. Perhaps with a view to stimulating the rest of the family to contribute, he threatened to cut their mother off completely. Perhaps he thought that his elder sister Anne's husband could pay a share of the expenses. Anne was deeply shocked by this action. "The threat by our wealthy brother," Anne protested in 1816 to George, "cannot be put in execution. Hard as is his Heart, it surely is not so callous as to lead him to withdraw that aid upon which our beloved Mother depends for the support of her existence. The suggestion of such an unnatural act is sufficiently cruel. To perform it would be an atrocity at which even he would shudder."35 But John was not deterred. Although not completely abandoning his mother, he cut down her support, forcing her and her sister to give up their own home and move in with Mary Browne. "J.B.M. has cruelly and I fear unpardonably given pain, where his best efforts ought to have been exerted to secure ease and comfort," Anne wrote two years later. "The record against him is in this world indelible. Let us hope it may obtain forgiveness hereafter."36 Anne claimed that John had "plundered my excellent Sister as well as myself,"37 although the details of this are unclear. The family estrangement was now irremediable on both sides. There is no mention of brother James at this late period, but Anne's other brother Robert appears to have sided with John against Anne and George. Sister Elizabeth apparently remained neutral, but both John and Robert at different times threatened George with lawsuits.38 George was very unlucky in his business ventures and thus was prevented from attaining anything like the wealth of his brother. Theft, fire, and fraud struck him in succession. These events, as might have been expected, were very distressing to his fond sister. Anne felt that under such circumstances, George had a real claim upon John's aid. The fact that his older brother chose not to help was to her a violation of moral standards. "Woe to those who possessing the ample means are destitute of the will to alleviate the calamity with which it has pleased providence to visit the Son of their Parents," Anne wrote in 1825. "The hour must arrive when Wealth will be found insufficient to mitigate those pangs a conviction of this want

124 Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles

of natural affection will most assuredly inflict. The instances of ingratitude you have experienced," Anne assured George, "lose their enormity when compared with the sordid hard heartedness of a Brother and that Brother the natural aid and protector of his Father's family. It is true that after the advantage taken of my ignorance and helpless situation nothing ought to surprise; but this reflection does not lessen the indignation of the moment."39 Although William noted that friends in New York had attempted to reconcile George and John, this was never accomplished. He wrote to George early in 1826 that he hoped a Mrs Gallagher would "effect her charitable purpose of bringing you and John to such an apparent reconciliation as may admit of a reciprocation if not of such good offices, at least of the decencies of fraternal Intercourse." The root of contention had grown too deep to be so easily removed, however. "Much do I lament the family Estrangement," William continued, "and ever have done so independently of the fiscal loss sustained by your Sister on the reductions of her aunts Legacy."40 The final confrontation between Anne and John over this issue took place in late 1826. "Previous to embarking for England," Anne recalled, "I again urged him to perform this act of justice. His refusal was couched in such terms that but for the pain it would have given to his family I should have left his House, never to renew my visit."41 All efforts to preserve a semblance of family unity were to no avail; the breach between the siblings proved permanent. In 1828, while Anne was in England, her brother John died. "I can only lament," she told George, "that our late Brother should have quitted this world divested of those fraternal affections, which would have shed a ray of peace and tranquility over his departing spirit." "The unhappy infatuation that marked his life," she continued, "as it induced him to prefer the accumulation of wealth to the blessings of family concord, appears to have ceased but with his existence."42 John, to his family's great inconvenience, died without leaving a will. This led Anne to hope that she could convince his children of the justice of her claim. Unfortunately, this was not to be. On their return to Upper Canada, William and Anne stopped at New York to consult with John's family. They met with "some offensive language on the part of Hamilton Murray [which] induced Mr Powell to take the opinion [ofj and retain Counsel."43 As Anne expressed it, "the spirit of conciliation is only with us."44 John's heirs had no intention of handing over £30 per year to their aunt, and the whole case was thrown into Chancery Court once again. Anne was anxious to have the matter settled, especially during those years when

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William appeared to be dissipating their entire means. In the end, she never did receive her full annuity and she died before the case was finally resolved. There is no indication that her heirs were any more successful with it than she had been. As Anne herself expressed it, the story of her inheritance was a "base business; begun in fraud and continued in the effort to defeat every principle of equity."45 Why was John, at least from Anne's point of view, so different from George? John's lack of feeling of connection to his family may have been influenced by the fact that he one of the youngest to leave home. At the age of fourteen he was apprenticed in the counting house of Clark and Nightingale in Providence, Rhode Island. He was not even near his Boston relatives. The intervention of the American Revolution may have furthered his isolation in his young adult years. For the duration it would have cut off all communication with England. But John's son later recalled friendly visits and letters, and spending some months in school at Norwich under the care of his Uncle Browne, Mary's husband.46 Certainly John was not ignored by his father, who wrote long letters full of advice to him on correct manly behaviour. He exhorted him to "Go on my dear Jack!" in his progress and attention to work, "and as you have had greater assistance than your Father, may you excell him in all respects! For the like reason," Dr Murray explained to his son, "It has been my greatest ambition to follow the footsteps of and outrun your Grand Fathers and Great Uncle Mr Bennet, three men of whom it may be said that few more worthy ever lived. The history of their lives is well worth your attention." It is unlikely that these tales were as carefully impressed on John as on his brothers at home. "Should I live to infold you once more in my parental arms," his father concluded, "I shall think it an agreeable task to inform you of such particulars concerning them as will at the same time excite your ambition and rouse in you an emulation of their virtues, in the different spheres of life." John may not have been able to have such fatherly advice in person, but he did have the benefit of written counsel. "First consider well what is your Duty to your Maker, your neighbour and yourself and do it without regarding the consequences of praise or dispraise, of profit and loss," his father told him. "By following this simple plan ... your mind will always be at ease, and your reward in the end glorious both here and hereafter."47 John was later to pass on similar advice to his own son James, exhorting him in turn to be circumspect and "gentlemanly" and assuring him that his parents' "confidence in having no cause for uneasiness or apprehension for your conduct, rest[s] ... on

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that sense of propriety and respect for yourself... and above all that you will not forget your duty."48 James returned the compliment, commenting upon John's death that "He died in the full belief that even in his last moments he had found a successful mediator in our blessed Redeemer & died in peace with God & man."49 This was certainly an epitaph quite different from John's sister Anne's evaluation of his life. From Anne's point of view, John, by failing to look after the interests of the women of the family, had violated some sort of chivalric code.50 His sins, then, were not only against her, but against the whole order of society. To Anne he was an "unnatural Brother."5' John, who had been charged with what amounted to a sacred trust by Elizabeth Inman, had violated it. This he did by cheating his sister - a mean and base act which spurned family bonds and amounted to exploiting the weak and helpless. As a woman, and more especially as his sister, Anne expected protection and fair dealing from him. A good brother's first concern would have been his sister's welfare. When their father died, John, as the eldest son, inherited his position as head of the family. This was another responsibility that he rejected, threatening to cut off his aged mother and refusing to aid his brothers when they were in distress. "How different would be my feelings," Anne complained to George, "could I place dependence on fraternal aid, which according to the law of nature should stand between you and danger."5* It is interesting to note the language that Anne used in her condemnation of John. It was as if his violation of what she saw as his duty set him outside of the proper order of things. She accused him of being "unnatural," of violating a "law of nature," and, ultimately, of being "unholy."53 George, in contrast, was the "good" brother because he lived up to all the standards of idealized, proper male behaviour. He was her protector, her reliable intermediary between the private sphere of womanhood and the public sphere to which he belonged. Besides being a friend, he performed many of the same functions as the ideal husband, shielding her from harm, giving her sound advice, and helping her to arrange her financial affairs. When William failed her or could no longer perform these duties, where else could she turn but to George? It was essential for a woman of Anne's day to have a man to stand for her, no matter how strong or capable she in fact might be. Given Anne's enthusiastic approval of George's manly virtues, it is striking that he had a poor opinion of his own masculinity. A though he may have been a good brother in all respects, unlike his elder brother he was a failure professionally and ended his life in

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genteel poverty. Independence was one desirable goal of middleclass masculinity that he had failed to achieve.54 At the age of seventy-five, he lamented the fact that, of all of his family, he was the only sibling without a permanent home of his own. He anxiously set out to discover where his life went wrong. He wrote to his brother-in-law James Robbins in 1840: I at once determined to begin my story from the day I ceased to be under the eye of my rare and excellent parent. I have by accident preserved his first letter written to me on that occasion and nearly all of those which followed in regular series from my age of 14 to that of 28, the last one written a few months before the death of this father. The reperusal of these instructive letters, for so they are to the last, refreshed my memory and promoted the object I had and still have, to answer the question whether I shall do it satisfactorily either to myself or to others is to be decided only by a view of the whole subject.55

Anne could have answered the question for him from her point of view - that he had not gone wrong at all, but simply been the victim of misfortune. For George, such an easy resolution to his inner doubts was not possible. In his almost obsessive reading back into his own life history through his father's words, he hoped to find the clues to understanding his life. We do not know if he succeeded. For George, fulfilling the masculine ideal of his day was no simple task.

6 Sons

Although the role of mother was extremely important to Anne, her relationships with her sons, as with her husband and brothers, could be fraught with tension. Partly this was because, unlike her daughters, who grew up in close association with their mother, her sons were> sent away from the family at very young ages. Their future was in the world outside, and she could not prepare them for that role. That was their father's job. Yet William did not seem to be equal to this task. He did his duty by his sons, but remained a remote and emotionally uninvolved figure, much more the stern patriarch than a warm paternal figure. He seems to have had closer ties to young men who met his standards in ways that his sons did not, such as his son-in-law Samuel Peters Jarvis and the brilliant John Beverley Robinson. This preference must have rankled with his own boys. William, like his wife, was born into an eighteenth-century world in which gender roles were taking new forms. We have seen that middle-class ideas about separate spheres for men and women were developed first in Britain, filtering over to North America in the late 17005. Along with these changes came new roles in parenting for both men and women. The earlier more actively patriarchal father who commanded his household was, with the separation of the domestic from the public, changed into a friendly visitor in a realm increasingly dominated by mothers.1 The stern and forbidding figure of fatherhood was replaced not by a completely non-involved father, as some historians have argued,2 but by a more sympathetic

12Q Sons

and egalitarian protector and guide.3 William himself noted this changing behaviour when he described his mother's relatives, the Grants, upon his arrival in England at the age of ten. Although in their society he "found very respectable models" of masculinity, they were unfortunately all men "of the old School, who wanted however that easy polish which was beginning to soften the rigorous rules of Politeness & reduce the Practice to the natural Efforts of a well disposed mind."4 There is a revealing contrast between the aristocratic formality of William's uncle, Sir Alexander, and the middleclass style of fatherhood displayed by Dr John Murray. His description of an incident of disobedience in a son is striking in its portrayal of the use of emotional persuasion and guilt rather than stern paternal wrath and punishment. His son James had fought with one of his brothers and was thus excluded from the "privilege of riding with me in the Country yesterday." Being shut out from his father's companionship upset James so much that, according to Dr Murray, "highly piqued [he] sent me word that I was very ill natured, and said he was glad he had behaved ill." How did Dr Murray deal with this direct challenge to his parental authority? Not with swift retribution, but rather with a family hearing. "At my return," he wrote, "I held a family Council of Mother and Children, [and] I submitted to be tried by it ... and was honourably acquitted of the Charge every one saying something proper on the occasion. Ja[me]s was a little choaked but held out." Then Dr Murray turned to the youngest child, not quite four years old. "Thomfas] was present but nobody had spoken to him nor did we know that he had taken notice of what was passing. At last I asked him if I was ill-natured, he looked up in my face his eyes glistening with Affection & called out No Papa you are not ill tempered, you are good tempered and I love you. Is anybody here ill tempered? Yes Brother James is ill tempered. Ja[me]s could hold it no longer, burst into a flood of tears and threw himself all along the table on which he was sitting, nor did he recover himself for near two hours." John Murray evi dently considered this scene to be a highly significant paternal triumph, so much so that he extended it into a metaphor of the fatherly role of the monarch. Clearly he thought that George III could have learned a thing or two from him. "You may judge what different emotions I felt," he wrote with satisfaction. "Had Great Britain thus treated the colonies what would have been the effect?" Family life was vitally important to Dr Murray, and as he told his son John, "I scarce know of any kind of adversity that I have not experienced except one and that is the unequalled share of domestic happiness I have ever enjoyed and am still blessed with."5

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This warmly emotional and involved kind of father following the more egalitarian principles of the new middle class shaped the early experiences of Anne and her brothers. William, although a member of the same generation, grew up on the other side of the Atlantic with a mother who was loving and concerned, but with a father who was cold, stern, and remote. When William returned from England at the age of sixteen, he was virtually ignored by John Powell, who left him "without any direct view for the future. This indecision of my Father was unfavourable to any useful pursuit," William later remembered. His father was not prepared to include him in his profitable business, even though he was an only son. "I had access to the Counting House," William remarked, "but so little was expected from me that most of my time was passed in the Society of young Men of loose & unsettled Principles." John Murray would never have allowed such aimlessness and bad habits to develop in his sons. The distance between William and his father became even greater with the death of his mother, such that when William found her substitute in Anne, he eloped without telling John Powell, who was "soured by Disappointment and irritated."6 When William had his own sons, then, he had no personal experience of loving and involved fatherhood to draw upon. Although the Powell boys had a caring mother, maternal concern could only go so far for boys in a man's world. Added to this was the formidable nature of William's high status and professional abilities and achievements. In the fish-bowl society of Upper Canada, he was a powerful and respected figure. The law was a respected masculine vocation and the role of judge the epitome of patriarchal authority.7 J.K. Johnson has pointed out that "the sons of famous men bear the weight of impossible burdens, which they can neither carry nor lay down."8 How could they ever compete with or learn from such a forbidding figure? For Anne and William's sons, this sense of inadequacy manifested itself in different ways with each, and was a source of hostility and tension. As John Tosh has noted for the similarly structured Victorian household of Edward White Benson, "In a domestic regime of separate spheres where the mother stood for love and the father represented the discipline required for survival in the outside world, growing sons often experienced a gulf between the emotional characters of father and mother which made them all the more resentful of their father's authority."9 All the Powell boys similarly rebelled in one form or another, repeating family history by eloping, running off to sea and becoming involved in revolution in South America and the Caribbean, retreating into alcoholism, or being unkind to their father in

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his dotage. William's inability to be a more loving and involved father was harmful to his daughters, but devastating to his sons. Certainly none of them grew up to be the men that their parents thought they should be. They were, as Anne once put it, "supine," lacking firmness of purpose, wavering, weak, and self-indulgent. What she was really saying, and they could hardly not have realized this, was that her sons had failed to achieve full masculinity. Anne and William's responsibilities as parents began almost upon their marriage. Baby John was born on 20 August 1776, at a time when his parents had no permanent home and were often separated by his father's studies in law. Anne, it appears, divided her time between the home of her parents in Norwich and visits to her father-in-law's in Ludlow. There, John was the centre of attention in the Powell family. "Your Boy longs to see you," Nancy wrote to her brother William in late 1778, "and says he loves you quite as much as he does his Grandpapa."10 "Your Boy is well; he is prating," reported the indulgent aunt a few months later. "He is extremely good, and almost idolized in the family."" It would appear that John was virtually adopted by the Powells. This may have been partly because of their recognition of the strain that Anne was under with her other pregnancies. On 15 February 1778, she delivered William, and on 24 May 1779, yet another son, Grant. Shortly after this, William emigrated to North America. The following fall, Anne embarked to join him in Montreal. But this was not a reunion of the entire young Powell family. Anne arrived at her new home with only one of her sons, William. The first of many long-term separations in Anne and William's family had begun. Why Anne left two of her three sons behind in England is not clear. They were too young for school, John being just short of his fourth birthday and Grant only one year old when she departed. Why was the two-year-old William chosen over his brothers? Possibly the voyage was seen as too risky for the infant Grant. Possibly also John was quite attached to his aunts and grandfather and was happy being left with them. An equally likely, although less appealing, alternative explanation is that Anne left Grant and John behind in favour of William because he was the one that she liked the best. One wonders how the four-year-old John felt about being left behind in England while William embarked for Canada with his mother. William was able to enjoy the rare opportunity of being an only child for almost two years at Montreal, until 21 May 1782, when a daughter was born. The infant's death the following February devastated her mother, so that the next child, a boy born on 29 January

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1784, was doubly welcome. At the same time as little Jeremiah healed past wounds, he was the source of enhanced fears concerning his health and welfare. Anne's letters were full of domestic detail during this time. Although she frequently mentioned William, it was Jerry that she doted on. "My two boys are well except Coughs," Anne reported to her cousin Dorothy Forbes in early 1785. "William improves in appearance & manners. Jerry is the forwardest Child I ever had - he has run alone this month past & understands perfectly well what is said to him if he could talk a little he would be very entertaining."12 "William is finely," Anne related to her Aunt Elizabeth. "Jerry is well. ... He is all antick, life and activity, a source of continual amusement to all the family."'3 "Jerry had 24 hours sickness cutting an upper tooth," she wrote on another occasion, "but is now as strong & engaging as ever. He has lost his taste for Wine, & prefers spruce Beer to anything. I am weaning him by degrees."'4 The spectre of her pet's older sister's death meant that Anne's joy in this special child intermingled with dread. As she explained to her cousin Dorothy, "My Jerry grows a Fine Boy, & is my Dearest Companion. Such thoughts sometimes arise when I admire his engaging qualities, as are calculated to give more pain than pleasure. The satisfactions I enjoy are & ever will be frequently embittered by the recollection of the sad Event which deprived us of such a Blessing."15 When Anne wrote these lines in March of 1786, William was eight years old. We do not know how he felt about his mother's obvious preferment of his younger brother, but it is clear that he was no longer her favoured child. "Our son grows a good deal out of my management," Anne complained to Dorothy, "& as soon as the other Children arrive we mean to send him with his Elder Brother to a good school about 80 miles from us where they will I hope receive advantages equal to those they could have in Europe at this time."16 Anne and William were reunited with their sons John and Grant that summer. Anne's beloved sister-in-law Nancy sailed to Montreal to join the Powell household, bringing them with her. This was the first time Anne had seen her sons in six years, and they would have scarcely remembered her. Young William, too, must have been surprised to meet his ten- and six-year-old brothers for the first time. Evidently, they had some time to get to know one another. It is not clear whether the older boys were sent off to school immediately following John and Grant's arrival in Canada, but they were certainly at home together the following summer. "You will suppose the cares of my family are employment enough for me," Anne wrote to her sister Elizabeth. "The management of four Boys require con-

133 S°ns

slant exertion. ... They are all well. Jerry the finest of the set. He goes to school & he has the manners of a boy Twice his age."'7 At some period following the family reunion, however, John, Grant, and William were sent off to Mr Keith's boarding school at Quebec City. They remained there until 1789, when their father brought them back to Montreal in anticipation of the family's impending move to Detroit. At that time, Anne wrote to George giving an assessment of the merits of each of her boys. Jeremiah, now five years old, was, of course, considered the most promising. As she explained to George, "Jerry is universally allow'd as handsome a Boy as is seen anywhere. A profusion of beautiful Hair curling around his fine manly countenance & a tall [illegible] graceful person, strickes every one. Even Lady Dorchester holds him up as the finest Boy in the Country. His fondness for his Book continues & will I hope be the means of rendering his Education very easy." Although William could hardly compete with such a glowing report, he too was praised by his mother. "Will[ia]m is amazing improved," Anne commented, upon his return from school at the age of eleven, "& frequently by his vivacity & earnestness reminds me of you my Dear George. He is now perfectly Healthy, & has made such a proficiency in Latin as does credit to his Master & his own abillity." Poor little Grant, however, just shy of his tenth birthday, could not compare to his talented brothers. "Grant is grown tall," Anne reported, "but [is] by far the most ordinary Child in the family. I do not know who his face is like but his person & his movements are as like my father as you can conceive. His Talents are good but [he] has an indolence at his Book which prevents their being perceived."'8 Grant evidently suffered from a demotion in family status and a lessening of attention paid to him when he was brought to Upper Canada. After his Aunt Nancy had left their family to marry Isaac Winslow Clarke in Montreal, she wrote to her brother William commenting on a visit the Powells were then enjoying from a relative: "I think Grant must greatly enjoy the presence of his Aunt. He, poor little fellow, will feel once more the pleasure of being a favourite - which he certainly has not been at home."'9 Grant may have been lazy and ordinary, but John, although not quite thirteen in 1789, was, it seems, far worse. According to his mother, he was already hopelessly ruined. He had returned home from school earlier than the other boys with a "long & troublesome Malady." Although he had been cured, his mother had other concerns about him. "I hope the employment of a school will get the better of Vices which will otherways entail everlasting disgrace upon

134 Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles us all," she remarked. "I tremble for what may be ... his Father & Aunt are sanguine," but she was not. "For this last twelve months every impropriety we have discover'd has been so much more serious than the last, that my hopes are small & all that I can do is to keep him seperate from his Brother, with whom I never will allow him to be." Anne knew that her opinion was not shared by others in the family. "Take no notice of what I say to you on this subject in your Letters to me," she told George, "as you are the only one to whom I can freely give my opinion, his Father feels to[o] much and his Aunt possesses that affectionate tenderness which has been his ruin which blinds her Eyes to every fault however flagrant"*0 The rebellious John was effectively quarantined from his brothers, especially the precious Jerry. Instead of moving with the rest of the family to Detroit, he was returned to Mr Keith's boarding school. It is interesting that John and his brother Grant, the two least promising boys, were the ones that had been left behind in England for six years, brought up at arm's length from their own family. John remained in Quebec until 1791, when his mother took the rest of the children to New York and eventually, in 1792, to England. At that time, with no danger of his "infecting" any of his siblings, he returned to live with his father at Detroit. When William followed Anne to England, he left John in his Uncle John's business in New York as an apprentice. The other boys were suitably placed in England - Jerry in school in preparation for a career in commerce, William to study law, and Grant medicine. After their father discovered that his brother-in-law had deceived Anne concerning her annuity, John was taken out of business. Ultimately, he was also placed at school in England, where he continued to behave badly. "Poor John, I have had my fears on his account, and am simply mortified to have them realized," reported his Aunt Jane Powell in 1799 when he was twenty-three. "You have now performed your part," she assured her brother William, "and leave the event to him who orders all for the best - if he could be brought to see his errors! I should be an advocate for trying every possible method to promote his well doing." Yet she had become convinced, like his mother, that there was little hope for John. "If he persists in the way of life he has marked out for himself, turn your heart and attention to those who deserve them most from you, and such comfort where you are likely to meet it." Perhaps what was needed, she suggested, was closer parental supervision. "I am ... apprehensive you will not have much comfort from your Boys if they are to continue at a distance from you," Jane observed. "Under your own immediate eye they could not be guilty of excess of any kind, and

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this Country holds f th such a variety of temptations to youth it is not a wonder to see em in perpetual error."21 Aunt Jane unfortunately also had bad news about twenty-yearold Grant at this time. "It is necessary you should know of Grant's unpleasant situation, from his extravagances, tho' it will give you pain to hear of them," she told William. Grant was full of "complaints and anger to his Master and determination to leave him." Jane had tried to patch things up, with little success. "I wrote to Mr K. wishing to conciliate matters if possible between them, and had a very polite answer from him declaring he had no distinct fault to find with Grant, but as his time was out he was anxious to receive your orders concerning him, for the young man did not sufficiently understand his profession to be of any essential service to him." Again, Jane hinted that William might be more attentive to his sons. Grant's master "was surprised and hurt at not having one of his letters answered by you, tho' he had repeatedly written, and concluded by the uncomfortable intelligence that the gross sum of Grant's debts was eighty odd pounds. I do not wonder that the poor lad was unhappy, but I could not relieve him. I hope he has now received your commands."22 Jane was later able to report more hopeful news, that "Grant says he is better treated since I wrote to his Master," and he was able to continue his medical training for the time being.23 Anne, without doubt, would not have been surprised at the errors of John and Grant, but when it was William who seriously misbehaved, she was shocked. This bright and promising son had returned from England earlier than his less favoured brothers, joining his parents at Niagara, where he undertook the practical part of his legal training. In 1797, at the young age of seventeen, he was one of ten founding members of the Law Society of Upper Canada.24 As William put it when the disaster occurred, thanks to his father's influence he was "at the Bar, rising in reputation."25 In July 1801, his parents were dismayed to discover that he had eloped with a young woman they disapproved of, Sarah Stevenson, marrying, as they felt, "imprudently."26 The damage to his future prospects that they felt this would bring was not to be realized, however. On 29 September 1803, at the age of twenty-five, William drowned. His wife and two baby girls survived him. The family rift caused by his rebellious marriage had still not healed by the time of William's death, and this made his loss especially hard. Anne compensated by adopting his young daughters, whose mother they judged unfit to raise them. Sarah, however, was paid an allowance of £25 a year by her father-in-law ever afterward.27

136 Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles Anne's grief was deeply felt. The Powells had moved to York by 1804, and when Anne visited the Niagara area the following spring the wounds were reopened. She was, she wrote George, "within half a mile of our late residence & the scene of my last years miseries, The remains of my Beloved William are not one Mile from me, & my Health has not been benefited by the sensations this circumstance causes."28 But Anne's cup of bitterness was not yet drained. In that same letter, she talked of sending her youngest child, eightyear-old Thomas, to school at Cornwall. He had been born, after three daughters had made their appearance, on 25 October 1795. Thomas only managed to travel as far as Kingston, however. He was staying there in the care of the Cartwright family, close friends of the Powells, when it became Richard Cartwright's melancholy duty to write to inform the parents of Thomas's death on 16 June 1804 due to illness.29 This youngest child had been a great favourite, and Anne was once again devastated. The loss of two such beloved sons in less than a year was a terrible blow. Almost twentyfive years later, when a male grandchild was born on Thomas's birthday, she poignantly remembered "my lamented youngest darling Child" and was pleased that the new baby was to be named after him.30 At the time, her feelings were intense. "I was borne down by the heaviest affliction I ever experienc'd or that can again befall me," she recalled a year later. "The most meritorious of my Children, the Child of my Old age, an object on whom I relied for the greatest portion of my worldly happiness was suddenly taken from [me] & with such aggravating circumstance, that every pang I suffer'd for his loss, received additional anguish from the consideration that I had thrown this Blessing from me. How often have I anticipated the pleasure of presenting this sweet Boy to you," she told George, "as worthy your affection, as inheriting the virtues of our blessed Father, & Brother, - indeed what plans which the most sanguine expectations could suggest had I not form'd." Such high hopes for the continuance of a masculine succession through this favoured son meant that "their instant destruction, overwhelm'd me, & deprived me of that fortitude I so much needed. My Happiness is destroy'd - but my Health is recovering, more than was ever expected. My wonted chearfullness may be restored, or at least in part. No event could effect this so readily, as the return of my Dearest Son."31 This "Dearest Son" was, of course, Jeremiah. But he too was not to live up to the promise of his childhood. Jerry did not finish his training in England, abandoning it to enter the military.32 His father was prepared to accept this choice of career but claimed that

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he could not afford to purchase a commission for him. Jerry was not quite fifteen in early 1799 when William appealed to his old friend Lord Dorchester to obtain him a place at die Royal Military College at Woolwich. This request was unsuccessful, and the young man was forced to give up the active life of the military for the more pedestrian pursuits of commerce. In 1801, he returned to North America and was placed by his father at the business of merchants Lennox and Maitland under the watchful eye of his Uncle George in New York City. There he managed to settle down for a time, and his mother was gratified by the fact that he was able to visit home occasionally. Following his brother William's death, Jerry returned to the family at York to share in their grief. After his departure, his mother wrote to him, making it clear that a great weight of masculine responsibility and family expectation rested on his shoulders. "That we are very anxious about my dearest Jerry you will not doubt," wrote Anne; & you know the situation of my Health & spirit to omit every opportunity of giving us information of your proceedings. I think it is probable my Life will not be spared to meet you again in this World - but while it is continued, your welfare will be one of its dearest objects. ... Your late visit tho* it was attended with many painful circumstance, has given you a perfect knowledge of our situation & home, & convinced you how important to the younger part of the family is the prosperity of the elder. ... Perhaps were we at ease in our fortunes it would scarcely now be esteemed as such a blessing merits. Nothing can prevent the recollection of those scenes which destroy'd my peace of Mind - the constant necessity for personal exertion in this large family is favourable to my Health - which is much restored. But my pillow is planted with thorns & I last night in my sleep, went thro the dreadful event of the agth Septer.33 Jerry was clearly expected to compensate for his elder brother's disobedience and death, but he was not prepared to do so. As a child, he had been described as lively and active; as a young man, he had a taste for adventure and danger. In 1804, he struck out on his own, leaving Lennox and Maitland and becoming mixed up in some dubious business concerns. Apparently he was convinced by friends that a fortune was to be made in trade with Haiti under the patronage of Governor-General Dessalines. He and another young adventurer travelled to Haiti in 1804, forming the company of Windsor and Powell. Their first large sale, a consignment of gold objects, was to none other than Dessalines himself. Unfortunately, however, upon inspection by the purchaser, the "gold" turned out

138 Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles to be gilded brass. Dessalines was most displeased. Jeremiah returned to New York in 1805 to try to sort out the mess with his suppliers. He had planned on making a quick profit of $3,000 and returning a wealthy man. Instead, he was not only in trouble with his parents but over his head in international political intrigue. Jerry was nonetheless foolishly confident that everything could be resolved, and that he was in no personal danger. By the time he returned to Haiti, the situation was less favourable than he had hoped. Dessalines had led a revolt and was now emperor and not well disposed toward the merchants who had sold him gilt instead of the gold he needed to finance his rebellion. Just as Jerry was casting around for a way out of his situation, another opportunity presented itself. William succinctly summarized this period in his son's life: "My fourth son," he recalled, "whom I had placed in a most respectable Counting House in New York had been induced by the Spirit of Adventure to join a Concern in the Contraband Commerce of Hayti, had acquired Influence with the black Chief Dessalines and was in a Quarrel with him determined to fly and threw himself into the hands of another adventurer Miranda. "3/1 Jerry had quite definitely jumped from the frying pan into the fire. Miranda was at that time leading an expedition to liberate the Spanish colonies of South America, starting with Venezuela. The expedition was countenanced by the British government, although of course not given any open support. Jeremiah saw in this his chance of escaping from a tight spot and also, perhaps, of reinstating himself by returning home a hero laden with the spoils of war. The reckless twenty-two-year-old accepted a commission as major in Miranda's forces and embarked for South America. Soon after, his risk-taking caught up with him. The Spanish had been forewarned and, when the expedition reached the coast of Venezuela, many were taken prisoner, including Jeremiah. In July of 1806, his parents received word of Jeremiah's capture. They also learned that he had been condemned to death and was shortly to be executed. Fortunately, Jeremiah had for once managed to act with some foresight, destroying his commission from Miranda when it became clear that he would be captured. Since he was young and assumed to be in a subordinate position, his sentence was commuted to life imprisonment at the fortress at Cartagena, Colombia. The news reached William at York while Anne was away on a visit to New York and looking forward to Jerry's arrival there. All that winter and spring, he had written assuring them of his immediate return. Anne had hastened to meet him, recalled William, "with the hope of prevailing upon her Son to relinquish the odious

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speculations he was engaged in."35 When he did not arrive, she returned to Upper Canada, only to be met by William at Albany where he broke the bad news to her. Jeremiah was fortunate in that his family was not prepared to allow him to languish in a foreign prison. "When settled home," William recalled, "the various reports of the Fate threatening our Son, produced such a Gloom and constant distress, that I decided upon an Effort for his Relief. To effect it I was without friends and without money. ... I was in no credit with my Banker but determined to undertake something, I obtained six months leave of Absence, after my Circuit and borrowed 400 Dollars of the Chief Justice. Half of this I left with the family."36 For once, William put his family before all else and set out on what became an odyssey to save Jeremiah in the fall of 1806. It involved him in even more debt, thousands of miles of travel, and a progression through a complicated network of contacts. He exploited every possibility he could think of, approached every conceivable person who might enable him to reach the ear of the Spanish monarch. Even his father-in-law's former associate, the famous Dr Jenner, used his influence on Jeremiah's behalf. Ultimately, William's persistence gained him the boon he sought, and a royal pardon was granted in June of 1807 while he was in Madrid. William returned to Anne at York in late October of 1807, having been absent on his quest for an entire year. In the meantime, George Murray had worked tirelessly to obtain information on Jeremiah's health and well-being and had managed to convey money to him in prison. Anne wrote to her "beloved George" expressing her gratitude for all he had done. Without his help, she asserted, her son would have "languished in prison without the necessaries of life, and his mother broken hearted ... unable to look forward to the moment of his restoration to his unhappy family."37 Finally, in early 1808, Jeremiah was expected home. Anne, with a heart "agitated by joy and gratitude," looked forward to her release from extreme anxiety, when she would "embrace this Son who has been the cause of the most poignant anguish, & whose merit will I trust justify & repay all that has been done to rescue him from a situation at one period hopeless & apparantly worse than Death. Every hour I now look for him," she continued. "While his life was in danger, the scene before me seem'd closed for ever. All was cheerless. His safety brightens the prospect, & the assurances he once gave in the hour of heart breaking calamity, that while he lived, his Mother & Sisters should know no evil from which he had the power to preserve them, bids me to look forward to years of serenity, if not of happiness."38

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This hope was not to be realized, however. The irrepressible Jeremiah was at home only a few weeks before he set out again for South America. This time, however, he travelled with the approval of his father, who had used his influence with Sir James Cockburn in England to obtain for his son the position of interpreter of the courts in the British colony of Curacao, off the coast of Venezuela. Anne hoped that this plan would allow "our unfortunate Jerry ... to obtain the object of his former exertions, without entering upon those desperate measures, as may plunge him into inextricable difficulties."39 Jerry departed in the spring or early summer of 1808, but because of the difficulties he potentially faced should he be found by the wrong people in that quarter of the globe, was forced to take a very circuitous route. Anne did not hear from him for some time and felt all her anxieties grow anew. "It would be wrong to doubt the good intentions of this favor'd Son, until he has means & fails to prove them," she wrote apprehensively to George: But the wealth of the Indies cannot do away the painful reflection of the most pointed & undutiful neglect. For myself I say nothing, the Years taken from my Life, by Months of agonizing uncertainty & apprehension are perhaps in my favor. It will shorten a pilgrimage embitter'd by those who had the power to smooth the rugged Path. But the personal & mental exertions made by his father demanded a strict devotion to every circumstance which could relieve a mind oppress'd by cares multiplied by the means that gave him Liberty & Life. Had these attentions not arisen from the Heart, had fillial affection expired, when he no longer needed the aid of a Parent, common decency gave us a claim upon him for communications of civility. I headed a Table at which he dined for several weeks. His sisters were his inmates. Had we been uninteresting Strangers, he could not so soon cease to remember our existence. That he has apparantly done so causes sensations not to be described.'10

Anne's annoyance suggests that she had found reasons for disapproving of Jerry's behaviour even before he left York. Her anxiety, however, was relieved for the moment when she received some mail from him in September. He was "greatly vexed at the charge of neglect," Anne reported. "God knows I am ready to think what I hope that it originated from his not being master of his time. I trust if the pain resulting from the appearance of forgetfulness in a Child so truly dear to me, can be overcome, nothing will in future, apparently justify a sensation so distressing."4' Jerry, meanwhile, after finally reaching Curacao by a safe but long and indirect route, found that the position promised him had

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of necessity been given to someone else. Undaunted and with his usual boundless confidence, he resolved to travel to England to sort things out. He was certain that he could obtain employment not only for himself but also for the rest of the family! Why Jeremiah was convinced that, although but recently released from a foreign jail and an inexperienced twenty-four-year-old, he possessed such influence is not clear. One is tempted to chalk it up to egotism, combined with the immature lack of judgment that he had already amply displayed. Perhaps having been the recipient of so much parental effort on his behalf, he was anxious to prove himself worthy, now a grown-up independent male. "Connected with my own views at the Capitol I intend to make an effort for yourself," he confidently informed his father, "as I think the admiralty will be induced to establish a court here, I propose, if I am not mistaken in the fact, to offer your name for the office of Vice Admiralty Judge and Surrogate. The Salary I think is £1200 to £1500 Stg. P. An." He was convinced that he could ensure his whole family's happiness. "The climate is delightful and Curacao must become a scene of business and interest more inviting than Upper Canada in its best days. There is already a sort of Job Court here which I intend to overset as soon as I get to England. This will not be difficult and there are so many applications for Canada that the change will be eagerly embraced for the sake of ready patronage. The Admiralty Establishment for their Judges, you know, is very much superior to any other Colonial system." After lecturing his father on the merits of various patronage appointments, Jerry went on to plan for the rest of the family. "If I succeed and you agree you will find this country pleasant, healthy and not so expensive as Canada. My Mother can pass a year with my sisters in England, and I hope it will be a decisive step towards more desirable arrangements in every quarter." Jerry expanded on his grand scheme with promises of positions for John and Grant as well, adding only the reservation in John's case, "That he may never feel any disappointment however through me it would be better I think not to hint to him that I have any idea of the kind. I have suffered enough myself from delusive prospects, and disappointed hopes." It did not occur to Jerry that such grandiose plans would be considered impudent, or at the very least foolish, coming from a young man of his age, experience, and former folly. Yet he must have been dimly aware of their inappropriateness when he wrote to his father, "If in conceiving a project of this kind I am officious or impertinent I know my dear Father you will receive my motives as a justification; and I assure you that if your concurrence should be at all improper or inadvisible, the

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seeming inconsistence shall not be allowed to effect you in any way." Yet he still concluded with confident egotism, "I will assure all."42 Jerry was not to have the opportunity of fulfilling all of the expansive promises made in that extraordinary letter. A few days after writing this last epistle, he set off for England aboard the ship Alexander, which was never heard from again. As the weeks without news stretched into months, Anne gradually was forced to face the awful truth that this time Jeremiah's seemingly charmed existence was over. "I cannot yet entirely abandon hope," she wrote to George, "yet the slight grounds for its encouragement are so slight. ... I delay assuming that Garb, which must mark to all a conviction that a beloved son is entombed in the merciless Ocean." In her heart of hearts, however, Anne knew that it was impossible that her darling Jerry was still alive. "In the night between the 523d & 24th last year," she related, "I awoke in horror, from a dream of some one being drown'd, the word 'lost' vibrated in my Ears after the perfect recovery of my recollection."43 Gradually, she was compelled to accept the reality of Jeremiah's death. Anne and William had suffered some very severe blows in the space of five years. The drowning of William, compounded by the estrangement owing to his elopement, the sudden fatal illness of young Thomas, and the loss of Jeremiah after two years of intense and painful worry over his welfare had all taken their toll. As Anne admitted to George, the passage of time "gradually destroys the remnant of hope, I am yet loath to relinquish. It is however at best so feeble as scarcely to merit the appelation, & my reason condemns the indulgence of supposing it probable that any event can give me a claim to worldly happiness." The trio of tragedies she had suffered made this one of the most difficult periods of her life. "My mind is sadly broken & tho' I make every effort to overcome depression which possesses me, I fear all will be ineffectual. I do not imprudently arraign the Being who thus deprives me of the objects of my best affections; the decree is hard but just; but the wounds inflicted by the severity of the dispensation are I fear incurable." Indeed, she felt that God had taken the best hopes of the future support of her family. "Of all my Children those I have been fated to survive were the three, from whose welfare I had fondly anticipated the gratification every Parent, or at least every Mother covets. The superior talents of all, were admitted as a just ground of this expectation; but the retrospect is in vain." Yet she must somehow go on without them. "These beloved and lamented sons, are I trust enjoying happiness as indescribable as the anguish of their broken hearted Mother; - & it is my duty to detach my thoughts

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from them, to aid & assist those who have an equal claim to my solicitude."44 Who would now assume the role of male protector to Anne and her three daughters should William leave her a widow? The only two candidates left for this role were the two least favoured sons: the dissolute John and the very ordinary Grant. It was around this time that John, as his father put it, "After a wild career had returned to the parental Roof." He had evidently burnt himself out in youthful dissipation and, now in his late twenties, was glad to settle down with his parents' help. William assisted him by giving him his mother's annuity for a time. As William put it, "my eldest son was then ... a pensioner in his mother."45 John also benefited when his father managed to secure for him the patronage position of county registrar, formerly held by his brother William. John moved to Niagara, where he surprised his mother by behaving well. One advantage to low expectations is that they are seldom disappointed. Since Anne had never felt that John would amount to much, she was considerably more pleased with what success he did achieve. "John is perfectly settled & respectably fixed at Niagara," she wrote in the spring of 1805. "His succession to his unfortunate Brother, has been more advantageous than we expected, & in a few years, will I hope enable him (if he finds a woman worthy his affection) to provide for a family."46 John's diligence was rewarded in early 1807 by his appointment to the clerkship of the Legislative Council. In the summer of 1808, just before John's thirty-fourth birthday, he decided to marry Ellen Shaw. His mother approved of his choice. "To the connection no objection can be made, it is the most respectable in the Country, tho' not abounding in Wealth. The Lady is the eldest daughter of Lieut. Col. Shaw. ... she possesses a more than common share of talent, has been educated with care, & in the habits of the most rigid economy. Since the death of her Mother, the greater part of the charge of a Large & young family has fallen to her share." Ellen's talent for economizing would be needed if they were to live on John's salary as befitted their station in life. "John's means is a certain £200 pr Annm, without the Registry & Professional business, which are together exceeding another £100. The Death of a Man who is a perfect sot, gives him a fourth. He is not expensive, his House is very snug & comfortable, & married or single he must keep up a certain establishment." Principally, Anne was concerned that a single man with so weak a will as John's could be especially prone to vice in a frontier colony and might even take a native woman as his mistress. It was important, in her opinion, that he marry before such temptation led him astray. "If he means to marry

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it is certainly time. Should it be delay'd he may probably fall into the disgraceful fashion of the Country, & by so doing shut his Doors to his Mother and Sisters."47 Anne was glad that John no longer needed the financial assistance of her annuity. "John is provided for," she wrote to George in 1809. "He knows his means without his own exertions, & that application may increase them whenever he chuses to make it."48 John's marriage, it would appear, was indeed a positive influence in his life. His wife was a strong woman who occasionally clashed with her mother-in-law. Anne was delighted when Ellen was due to give birth in the summer of 1809 and rushed to assist her. After years of grief and loss, a new grandchild was especially welcome. The child was a boy, and it was likely that the grieving grandmother pushed her choice of name, probably Jeremiah or William, more forcefully than she should have. "During the long spell of nursing I had at Niagara," she complained to George, "I never heard him called by any name. My wishes upon that subject were well known, & the idea that they were not to be gratified forbad my asking, that same reason probably caused their silence."49 Instead of obeying his mother, John named his boy after himself and the grandfathers who had been his true father-figures. Anne was so put out by this that she would not help at Ellen's next confinement. The decision to name this second son William did not appease her. "I have ever wished to pay an annual visit to the spot which contains the ashes of my lamented William," she wrote to George, "but I have no reason to think my presence would be desirable to my Daughter-in-Law, & I would not give pain to her Husband, by passing up to the Mountain without entering his house."50 The rift was eventually healed, possibly with the shared grief over this second boy, who did not survive childhood. John continued to live at Niagara, travelling to York when the Legislative Council was in session. He even distinguished himself in the War of 1812 as captain of a prestigious volunteer artillery unit.5' Although he had the misfortune of having his house burnt to the ground during the war, he had not failed to impress the lieutenant-governor. John was compensated for his losses and was able to rebuild. He was also granted the position of clerk of assizes, assisting his father when he did his regular tour of duty in outlying districts. At the same time, William was made chief justice, and adding to this general sweep of family fortune, John was given an extra £100 a year for his official duties. The extra salary enabled him to erect his new house quickly, his family dividing their time meanwhile between the Shaws and the Powells. "Mrs J. Powell just

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left us the ad," Anne wrote in May of 1816, "and found on her arrival [at Niagara] the next day, everything so neat and comfortable that she was astonished at her Husband's dilligence. She says every thing looks more beautiful than ever. ... I do hope they will find happiness, and domestic tranquility."52 All went well for John. His new role as clerk to his father was a lucrative one; he eventually built himself a fine brick house at Niagara53 and was able to send his son away to John Strachan's school at York. He had become a man of the world, with a strong supportive wife, a growing family, and career achievements. One imagines that he was at his happiest during these years. "I never saw John look so well," Anne reported in 18 iy.54 She was gratified, when, upon the death of his sister Anne in 1822, John behaved as befitted his role of masculine protector. Although she had left written instructions for the disposal of her property, as the eldest son it all legally reverted to him. He willingly gave it up, distributing her few possessions as she had desired. "It affords me consolation," wrote Anne, "that motives of interest yielded to the feelings of fraternal affection."55 She knew only too well that many men in his position would not have behaved as honourably. Even in these good years there were signs that John's old vices were catching up with him, especially overindulgence in alcohol. As William's star began to fall in 1822, John, who relied upon his father's influence so greatly, began to slip as well. "John is with us," Anne wrote at the height of the political conflict in 1825, "and does his utmost; but he is so much a party concerned that his Father feels afraid to implicate him."56 After his parents' retirement to England, John's alcoholism intensified, and his health was seriously affected. "Poor John is still very ill," reported his sister Mary. "He loses strength daily and from all accounts cannot linger much longer, unless a change soon takes place."57 Anne was prepared for John's probable fate. "The accounts respecting my unfortunate son," she wrote sorrowfully, "are more productive of distress than surprise. It is what I have for many past years seen advancing with rapid steps and lamented without the power to retard the progress. I am aware that his Fathers retirement may have accelerated the certain and fatal consequence of self destruction by pernicious indulgences; but in this as in all other instances I was powerless to avert the evil; and have no other reliance than that which has supported me thro' innumerable sudden and agonizing trials." The pain of hearing about John's decline brought back all the unhappy memories of her other sons. "Every day brings me nearer to the closing scene of a life marked by vicissitudes; where the most

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sanguine hopes have been unexpectedly succeeded by the most heart breaking realities. We know not how to sustain distress until we suffer it."5® Mary's prediction and Anne's fears were unfortunately borne out, and John died in the summer of 1827. His wife, perhaps in reaction to living with a steadily deteriorating alcoholic husband, had, to the rest of the family's disgust, become a Methodist. It was likely her influence that resulted in what was very much like a religious conversion that John experienced on his deathbed. Anne's granddaughter Mary described John's poignant final days, just short of his forty-ninth birthday. "Long before this reaches you," she wrote to Anne, "Uncle Grant's letter will have announced that close of poor Uncle John's sufferings. We all dread the distress it may occasion you & Grand Papa but after his long illness during which he had time to reflect on his past life to prepare we may hope for a better." At least some consolation could be found in the manner of John's death. "Surely my dear Grand Mamma we may look upon it as a blessing that he was taken from this scene [of] temptation and suffering at the moment that he deeply lamented his own sinfullness & looked forward with hope to the future - I know it will afford you great consolation to hear that the last few weeks of his life were spent as became a Christian. ... This must I am sure afford you great comfort as you expressed yourself so very anxiously on the subject." Right up until the end, John looked to his parents for support, and in his final illness, Mary reported to her grandmother, he "would often ask if you were really gone away."59 We know very little of what John himself felt about his life and his relationship to his parents. What is interesting is the sad selfrejection demonstrated by his sister Mary's comment upon the birth of her son in 1828. "I would have given him the name of his dear and ever lamented Uncle," she explained to her mother, "but I have often heard him say he hated his name."60 Yet this was the name of his grandfathers and the one that he passed on to his own son. It may have been that John had been expressing his own selfhatred, his sense of early rejection by his family and his failure to become a truly independent adult male. Ellen Powell, like her sister-in-law Sarah, was given an allowance by her father-in-law to help support her in her widowhood.6' Yet, like Sarah, she was viewed with disapproval. "Mrs John Powell is a confirmed Methodist," complained Anne, "and as such admits to her society a set of people I consider as very unfit companions for her Daughter now a growing young woman."62 Methodists were seen as very common and lower-class by the high Anglicans of the

147 Sons Upper Canadian elite. There was nothing much that could be done about this, however. Ellen was no weakling like Sarah, who simply gave up her daughters to Anne's care. In this case, Anne had to be content to disapprove from a distance. Of their five sons, Anne and William were now left with just one - the very ordinary, plodding Grant. Ironically, in the end it was he who came closest to fulfilling his parents' aspirations. Unlike his brothers, who relied almost totally upon their father's connections for employment, Grant at first tried to chart an independent course. He left England sometime after 1799 as a qualified physician, but did not return to Upper Canada. Instead, he settled at Ballston Springs near Saratoga in northern New York and established a practice there. In 1805, he married Elizabeth Bleecker, the daughter of a wealthy Albany family. "You have doubtless heard of Grant's Marriage," Anne wrote to George. "We can form no judgement of its prudence except from his account. If it is productive of happiness to him, we ask no more."63 Grant was not especially close to the rest of the family during these years; clearly he wished it to be that way. "Grant is as silent to me as to you," Anne complained to George in 1809. "I have had but one Letter these 18 months from him, & I think two from his Wife. A few lines from her to Anne came to hand yesterday, in which she says he is very busy with his Patients, I hope profitably."64 Grant's independence was not to last. It was perhaps no coincidence he did not return to Upper Canada until the three favourite sons had disappeared. By the fall of 1809, when Grant surprised his mother with a visit, John was already well provided for. Grant's timing was apt, for Anne's annuity could be made available to him. Such help he desperately needed. His practice at Saratoga had not been flourishing, and he was in enormous debt to the tune of $2,500. His wife's relatives were unable or unwilling to help him, so he was forced to turn to his parents for help. Anne was anxious to have him move to York, where he could benefit from "the example of economy, & the admonition he would be enabled to receive from those whose advice ought to influence him." A move to York would have other benefits for Grant. "He would have a respectable introduction, & if we are not flatter'd his medical talents would confirm the good opinion all seem inclin'd to form respecting him." His mother disapproved of his extravagance and was pleased that, for the moment at least, Grant was contrite. "He feels the effect of imprudence, & while smarting under it makes the best resolutions. God knows how they may be kept, but should he ever overcome the present difficulties, & put his present determinations in practice, he will have cause to rejoice at his

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immediate sufferings. ... He is now the only son who calls for advice or assistance. Anne was anxious to do what she could for him. "To see him respectable, & his Family growing up around me, would perhaps shed a ray of comfort on my careworn existence."65 Thus it was that Grant swallowed his pride and moved back to Canada, briefly settling at Montreal and then moving to York in 1811. His timing was again fortunate, as the War of 1812 allowed him to take on a position as surgeon in the militia. In addition, his father was able to obtain for him the position of clerk of the House of Assembly. Thus, both Powell boys were able to ride on their father's coattails into good fortune, especially following the war. Grant received the additional position of judge of the Home District Court and on top of this, like John, received a raise of £ioo.66 In Anne's view, Grant did not exert himself enough. He abandoned the practice of medicine almost entirely once he had obtained these sinecures, whereas, had he continued in his profession, she felt that he could have done very well indeed.67 She also saw him always as needlessly extravagant. His attempts to marry off his vain and frivolous eldest daughter to literally any available wealthy man were related by Anne in her letters to George with gentle mockery and disapproval. Nor was he a reliable correspondent after Anne and William were separated from the rest of the family in retirement. "He certainly in this," Anne commented after one such long silence, "as in various other things neglects the good example of his Father."68 Grant's relationship to his father was indeed problematic. Although William had done a great deal for him, Grant did not display gratitude. When his father ran into difficulties after 1822, Grant exacted a kind of systematic revenge on him. "Papa is I think very ill," his sister Elizabeth wrote in 1823, "and Grant pays him no attention whatever."69 Although Grant had received benefit from his father's position, he was not prepared to go down with him. "As to Grant," Anne wrote in 1825, "ne keeps aloof as is prudent, and receives great attention from the Executive."70 After Anne and William had returned to York from their retirement in England, Grant continued to spurn his father. When William began to suffer terrifying attacks of memory loss, Grant was, of course, called in to provide medical aid. "Eliza sent for Grant," Anne reported of one such occasion in 1831, "but he considers it most cruelly to be all affection, therefore no aid can be expected from him."7' In the end, the family had to call in another doctor to treat the aged William. As the father grew feebler, the son became even more disdainful. Toward the end of his life, William was locked in a nasty lawsuit which was decided against him. He initially received permission to

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defer payment of the costs awarded to his adversary while the case was being appealed to a higher court in England. The dispute was not likely ever to be resolved in his favour, but he was stubborn in its prosecution. Grant, therefore, took it upon himself to point this out to the solicitor-general, arguing that any other litigation would be a drain on his father's estate. Thus William was forced to settle the costs at once. Anne was outraged. "I feel very indignant at this interference of a son, who possessing the talents to aid and advise uses them to thwart and to irritate." Nor was this all, she reported to George. "His intolerable sarcastic supercilious manners, are at all times highly improper, particularly when indulged to offend his Parents. I think he and his family have had a full portion from his Father. ... Our days cannot be many; its hard they should be embittered by those whose interest has been promoted by the individual now sought to be crushed."72 Grant's revenge for real or imagined injuries was directed only at his father. To his mother, his behaviour was kind and affectionate. It would appear that what he craved was some kind of masculine power and authority within the family circle. When a crisis occurred during his father's absence in 1822, Grant was constantly by his mother's side, providing her with every assistance and support. "He has been more attentive than I could from His habits have expected, and I may say more forebearing," Anne observed.73 After his brother John's death, Grant inherited both his position as clerk of the Legislative Council and his status as head of the family at York. He was so jealous of this prerogative that he almost refused to attend his niece's wedding because she had not properly consulted with him about it. The whole family had to wait at the church until he was persuaded to come. When he finally arrived, he was still so put out that he refused to give her away, and Mary had to be walked down the aisle by her other uncle, Samuel Peters Jar-vis.7"1 It was after his father's death that Grant was able to really come into his own. He was, as Anne put it "indefatigable" in his concern for her.75 He advised her, watched out for her well-being, and visited her constantly. "To me," she related to George, "his fillial affection has been invariable, ever ready to secure and accomplish my wishes." He was "an intelligent ... companion [who] frequently distracted my mind from reflection as painful as unavailing when besides his morning visits he generally sat with me the greater part of the Eveng, the events of the Day affording a topic, ending in anticipation of the visit."76 When Anne wrote these lines in 1838, she was eighty years old, her son fifty-nine. She could hardly be expected to survive this fifth and last son, but this proved to be the case. On lojune 1838, he

150 Intersections of Male and Female Gender Roles

died of an unspecified illness, leaving his mother feeling cast adrift, with no son to look out for her in her old age. "All are kind to me," she mourned, "but I have no more a Son, upon whom I can rely for aid or advice in the hour of calamity."77 "I always looked forward with dread when I should lose the ability to promote the comfort of and become a burden to those around me; the loss of my dear Son has accelerated that conviction. His conversation used to cheer and amuse me."78 "Since the loss of my dear son, no one appears to understand me."79 Although Anne was sincere in her sorrow over the loss of Grant, neither he nor any of his brothers had lived up to their parent's highest expectations. Their behaviour was more often viewed with disapproval than praise, and they all relied heavily on their parents to provide for them. This Anne and William were willing to do, and, in particular, William put a great deal of effort into securing patronage for them. Still, he was frequently annoyed with them. With some justification, he noted in 1818 that "The indolence and apathy of both John & Grant will keep them Dependent if there Salary Income was twice what it is." William could not understand the failure of his sons to grow up and accept responsibility. Compared to his own father, he had been assiduous in ensuring their futures. "They have had double my Chance in Life," William complained. "Provided with full Assistance without Shackles. ... They have no claim on me to supply their deficiencies."80 William's remoteness could not inspire his sons' love, however, and his own success, rather than spurring them on, evidently made them feel resentful and inferior. This failure of the second generation of males to live up to expectations was not unique to the Powells. Although much work remains to be done on Upper Canadian family life, research to date shows that at least some other elite families shared the same problems.81 Following in the footsteps of their heroic Loyalist fathers may have been too much for the younger generation of males to live up to. By necessity, they were all dependent on paternal money and influence to obtain the education that would ensure that they would be fit to occupy the patronage positions their fathers procured for them. There was virtually no other way of getting ahead in the closed social circles of York. Whom one knew was everything, and sons had to rely on the success and abilities of their fathers.8" For many, this may have resulted in some insecurity about their own powers and a failure to achieve full adult autonomy. The reformers of the 18305 in Upper Canada understood these weaknesses of the male elite only too well and exploited them to the fullest.

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Independence was considered to be one of the most important of the masculine qualities in the late eighteenth century. Without it, there could be no honour or manly virtue.83 In that age of increasing polarization of the male and female spheres, crossing over to the other side, becoming effeminate, was a terrible thing to happen to a man. Despite all the romantic idealization of True Womanhood, these qualities were only appropriate to a woman and for a man to possess them would lower his status. Cecilia Morgan has argued persuasively that, in metaphorical terms, the reformer William Lyon Mackenzie and his followers hit below the belt in attacking the men of the elite for their dependence on patronage, their toadying to those in power.84 Even though the members of the elite attempted to respond in kind,85 this attack must have infuriated them. No wonder Samuel Peters Jarvis led a group of young Tory males on a raid of Mackenzie's print shop in 1826, wrecking his press and dumping his type in the harbour. This was a senseless macho act if there ever was one, and a response to a perceived attack on their masculinity. For the Powell sons, as for other young men of Upper Canada, an independent masculine identity would not have been easy to achieve. Although they benefited from the wealth, position, and power of their father, self-confidence and a secure sense of achievement eluded them. There is evidence that they may have been intimidated by and felt a need to rebel against their father, despite his generosity to them. All of his help could not overcome the distance between them. In contrast, at least in terms of gender identity, Anne and William's daughters suffered far less uncertainty. Their place was clearly in the home with their mother, to whom they were intensely emotionally connected. Yet, as we shall see, their more protected and secure upbringing brought with it its own set of difficulties.

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PART THREE

The Transmission of Female Gender Roles

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7 Education

Anne may have loved her male children, but the girls were always more special to her. After four boys and the loss of her first daughter, she was overjoyed when another girl was born in 1787. "Do not censure me," she admitted to her cousin Betsey Robbins, "if I say that another son would not have been consider'd by me as half so much consequence, as the little Daughter I am now bless'd with."1 Daughters were certainly considered to be very different from sons in that era of increasing gender polarization. The boys moved out of the domestic sphere at early ages, and, under their father's direction, were sent great distances away to be trained for their future life in the public world. The girls, in contrast, would normally only leave the domestic setting in order to exchange it for another, either permanently in marriage or temporarily in carefully supervised visits to other households. This life of domesticity, as Carroll Smith-Rosenberg has observed, "was a world in which men made but a shadowy appearance."2 And, most important, "An intimate mother-daughter relationship lay at the heart of this female world."3 Certainly William seems to have been quite detached from his daughters. Although he frequently referred to "my Sons" he invariably wrote to Anne of "your Daughter.'M His indifference all too often became unpleasant irritability. "Papa has been more than usually cross and rude," Elizabeth complained on one such occasion to her sister Mary. "He has been annoyed in the court I fancy & has a great deal of business to attend, & our new cook does not dress the dinner as well as she ought; & he makes us all pay for it."5 Afraid to

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approach their father directly, the girls relied on their mother to intercede for them. "I have just been speaking to Mama ... she says she will speak to Papa when he is better," Elizabeth informed Mary about a matter that concerned them both. "But that he is so annoyed just now with one thing or another that she cannot."6 Although William shared the same home with his wife and daughters, he seemed to have little knowledge of or involvement in its domestic life. In such a close private world, Anne and her daughters and, later, her granddaughters developed a web of relationship that, if not always harmonious, was certainly emotionally intense. It was therefore not surprising that William's decision to retire to England was a heavy blow to all the Powell women, who had to accept the fact that they might never again be reunited. The goodbyes were consequently heartfelt. "It makes me quite sick," Mary wrote to her mother, "to think of the time that must pass before we can hear of your safe arrival."7 Young granddaughter Mary joined in the "anxiety and alarm" they all "intensely felt for the fate of the dear friends who we know are exposed to all the dangers of a stormy sea. Every blast of wind makes us tremble for ... lives so precious."8 Haunting them all was the memory of the death of Anne, the eldest daughter, in a shipwreck four years earlier. "We have hardly ever been out except to pay a few visits," wrote granddaughter Mary Powell sadly, "for we have not had the heart to leave home. ... As to the dear old house it is impossible to enter it without the most melancholy feelings - it presents already such a scene of desolation and discomfort."9 Anne's daughter Mary emphasized that she "was afraid the girls [granddaughters Mary and Anne] regret their decision to remain in Canada at least, I feel that were I in their place I should wish myself with you and Eliza in good old England."10 Anne did her best to resign herself to her wifely duty, but she found the break difficult. "Mrs Gore says, 'it is too bad to take you from your children,'" she wrote to George, "however I may join her opinion I feel it to have been unavoidable, and will endeavour strictly to perform the duties remaining to be performed."11 Having lived surrounded by her daughters for so many years she found it hard to adjust to even Eliza's limited absences from their retired life at the Vicarage with William's sister and brother-in-law, although she recognized that it was important that Eliza be able "to compensate [for] the total seclusion from that description of society to which she had ever been accustomed." During Eliza's first visit to relatives since they had arrived in England, Anne felt desolate. "I am about to be for the first time of my life seperated from all on whom I have

157 Education natural claim," she explained to George.12 After another short absence she wrote: "I begin to long to see my daughter at this you will not wonder."13 Nor did her distance from her other female offspring prevent her from being concerned about them. When her granddaughter Mary was ill, she endured extreme anxiety. "The suffering I experienced from the fear of fetal termination to her illness," she wrote, "convinces me of the unfitness of absence to secure peace of mind. Even now with an heart filled with gratitude to Him who has spared her life, I cannot divest myself of the fear that want of caution may yet cause a relapse."'4 "I should like to look forward to embracing my absent children," Anne lamented.15 "My mind is kept in painful suspence respecting these young women, whose society is splendid to my comfort."16 It was, therefore, with great joy that Anne returned to York with William and her daughter Eliza after almost three years' absence. Her other daughter Mary and her granddaughters were just as happy to see her. "Our reception was as cordial as our most sanguine expectations would lead us to expect," Anne noted with satisfaction.17 This was the only time she had been forced into a separation from her daughters and granddaughters and the misery it caused on all sides is illustrative of the bond that existed among them. Anne's feeling of a closeness with and responsibility for her daughters was at times not easily reconciled with her wifely role of obedience and subordination. When William complained in a letter to George that his daughters never seemed to do enough housework to help their mother, she was quick to rise to their defence. "I fear he had reflected upon their want of exertion & dilligence in affording me assistance," she wrote to George. "If so, he was certainly unjust," she declared in an uncharacteristically critical tone, "for it is impossible for Daughters to be more assiduous to meet the wishes of their Mother than mine are. The part I take in family arrangements is from Choice; they have the portion which I think most fitting for them." Anne was anxious that George should not get the wrong impression. "Nothing would [be] more painful to me than the conviction that you were induced to think ill of my Children by misrepresentations of their conduct. Believe me, that when I feel cause to censure I will not mislead you by expecting approbation." William, she felt, was unappreciative of their daughters' efforts: "As yet the only cause of regret on their account is that their merit has not, nor is likely to meet its reward."18 These were harsh words flowing from the pen of an otherwise dutifully obedient wife. Still burning from such criticism of her

158 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

daughters, Anne went to unprecedented lengths in her criticism of William, accusing him of "a want of proper parental affection." "Mr P.," she continued, "rarely takes an interest in what concerns his Children, unless some occurence gives apparent cause of censure & as it frequently has happened, that he has been deceived by appearances, & upon investigation, they have been blameless." William's relationship with his daughters was not a pleasant one for them. "They ever consider their Father as seeking to discover failings," Anne observed, "[and] censuring them with acrimony." She felt that she had to compensate for her husband's behaviour. "Had I adapted the same method, I could not now expect their confidence, their considerate attention, or know that my presence was not a burden to them."'9 Anne's view of her special responsibility for the well-being of her daughters extended to the whole of their education and upbringing. She was prepared to relinquish control over her sons to William, who would place them in school or into apprenticeship as he saw fit. The girls, who would remain in the domestic sphere all of their lives, in his opinion, had no such need for academic or career training. In Anne's view, an appropriate education to enable girls to shine in a social setting, prepare them for their role in married life, and, if all else failed, support themselves by a little genteel teaching was extremely important. Her own education, she felt, had been meagre, and it was a source of great regret to her that she had not managed much to improve upon this for her daughters. During the early years of Upper Canadian settlement, there were insufficient schools, in particular for girls. The governing elite was a very small proportion of a scattered population whose main concern was survival in the bush. The only formal education available in Upper Canada was that taught within the family circle, as Hannah Jarvis pointed out. Hannah sent some of her children out of the province to a school in New York in 1803, but in the end "the schools not answering our wish, we have recalled them, thinking that they may as well be at home, where they will learn a little as be abroad and learn a little more." Education was crucial for establishing both social status and a feeling of racial superiority. "They know enough to be Indians at this time," Hannah complained about her children's education.20 The solution to such problems for the Powells was to send the boys to England to be educated. No such plans were made for the girls. There was some talk of sending Mary to school in Montreal, but this intent seems not to have been carried out.21 Instead, they remained with their mother at home. Anne was acutely aware that they were short-changed. "Your sisters are well," she

159 Education

wrote to Jeremiah in 1803, "but continually occupied in works of necessity, if not of improvement."22 To George she expressed the wish "to present to you your Nieces ... whose acquirements tho' but slender will I hope meet your approbation."23 When in England, Anne was to find the contrast between her own daughters and welleducated young Englishwomen particularly painful. "I think had my Girls had equal advantages," she explained regretfully, "their minds would have been as highly cultivated."24 The deprivation of her daughters, however, had been a necessary evil. "At that period when my Children required that education which our united means prevented us giving to all," Anne related, "our Sons were as they ought to have been preferred and my Daughters have unrepiningly submitted to the consequences tho' not without keenly feeling their deficiencies."25 Under these adverse circumstances, Anne did the best she could for her daughters. One way of broadening their horizons was to encourage them to move outside the family circle by means of visiting. This was done under the protective care of friends and relatives, such as when Mary and Elizabeth, aged thirteen and sixteen, spent several months in New York in late 1805. Their Uncle George had travelled to Upper Canada to see his sister and, on his return to New York, took his nieces with him. Although tuition for school was not feasible, at least some polish could be obtained by visiting a more sophisticated urban centre. As SmithRosenberg has pointed out, such separations "served to wean the daughter from her home, to train her in the essential social graces, and, ultimately to help introduce her into the marriage market. It was not infrequently a trying emotional experience for both mother and daughter."26 Whether Eliza and Mary found the experience frightening or exciting is unknown, but for their mother it was certainly a trial. She wrote anxiously to her brother, worried about "the propriety of my conduct in seperating a family, hitherto sharing the same destiny. You may believe my earnest wishes, that my Daughters, give to their Friends no trouble from ill health or ill conduct." Would her girls adapt well to the more sophisticated New York social life? "As I have said before," Anne told George, "of Eliza's compliance with every thing thought proper for her I have no doubt, & I confide in Mary's good sense, to overcome these propensities that sometimes give trouble to her best Friend."27 "I hope they will do their best to secure your approbation," Anne wrote anxiously to her sister-in-law. "Should they not, half the pleasure I anticipate on once more embracing them, will be lost in regret & disappointment, for tho' I know their tempers are not unexception-

160 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

al, or their manners polish'd, my reliance upon the rectitude of their dispositions, made me little doubt their determination to be perfectly obedient and docile."28 It was George's wife Elizabeth that Anne particularly relied upon to play "the role of foster mother" to her daughters. Such surrogate mothers, Smith-Rosenberg has argued, routinely "supervised a young girl's deportment, monitored her health and introduced her to their own network of female friends and kin."29 Anne wrote to Elizabeth Murray with appreciation, expressing her "very sincere Friendship & affection" as well as "esteem, regard &: I may add ... admiration." Having a trustworthy friend to look after her daughters was exceedingly important to Anne. "I know not in what terms to express my gratitude for your kindness to my Children," she wrote to her sister-in-law. "Believe me I feel it sensibly, & if George can love you better than before you undertook this trouble, he must by so doing assist me to pay the debt."30 For her daughters' welfare, "Upon the goodness of their Uncles & Aunts I depend. ... I will hope, that for once fortune will befriend me," she wrote to George, perhaps with the death of her son William a year earlier weighing on her mind, "& I shall be enabled to embrace you all, & express my gratitude for your affection to Children so dear to me."3' Once Mary and Eliza were returned to York, their sister Anne was to have her turn at such improving absences. She visited New York and Montreal in 1810 and, in 1816, experienced the excitement of a transatlantic voyage to meet her English and Scottish relatives. Not all visiting involved such distance from home. The confined nature of the girls' lives within the domestic sphere was more frequently compensated for by their being permitted to travel to Kingston and Niagara to see friends and relatives. Such changes of scene were important, as their mother was only too well aware. After they had all returned from the visit to New York to retrieve Eliza and Mary in 1806, home seemed terribly dull. "I never so much felt the solitude of this place," Anne wrote to George. "The circumscribed circle of my fireside destroys every attempt towards cheerfulness, & some take a Book & others the [needle]work, without speaking a word by the hour together. No topic engages us so much as that of our late residence with you, reciting the various acts of kindness we have received & encouraging each other in the hope that nothing will interrupt your promised visit next summer."3* The lives of the female part of the Powell family when they were at home inevitably centred on domestic matters. The smooth operation of the household required the efforts of both mother and daughters. To her daughters, Anne delegated the care of her son

161 Education

William's daughters and all of the sewing. "The employment at the needle in such a family as this, is not triffling," she observed.33 Even the little granddaughters had a purpose to their play. "They are busy making cloaths for Doll," Anne reported, "which Mary cuts and fixes for her sister; in the hope that when Aunts are married & left me, she may make my Gowns."34 Leisure hours were taken up with more ornamental sewing and crafts such as making workboxes or hair bracelets, important accomplishments for all young girls at that time.35 More active recreation was limited to walking and riding on horseback or in carriages.36 Adding to the sense of confinement they all felt was the necessity of constant scrimping and saving to meet their own needs. Anne did her best to provide for them, although she found it galling that her sons were indulged while every expense incurred by the girls was resented by their father. At least her annuity, when William gave her permission to use it for such a purpose, gave her at times some means of partially compensating for this. "Should my annuity be paid, I should like something for a dress for Anne, equal to those her sisters had ... & a grey silk for myself," she requested of George on one occasion, "but this only on condition that the means are to be commanded." At the same time, Grant was running up debts at his father's expense, a situation, Anne explained, "I cannot justify ... to myself, to keep my daughters in [such] a state of poverty."37 Eventually, in 1808, she was able to report that "Mr P has consented to relinquish the Annuity [from Grant's use] to my use, for the purposes of cloathing myself and the three girls, Mrs [William] P & the Children - is little enough."38 "To be here in the first class of society." Anne explained, "is attended with no deviation from rigid economy - a departure from that necessary quality, can only arise from an indulgence in those luxuries we have ever abjured & to which he [Grant] has no right."39 Indeed, she praised her daughters for being "ever ready to fall into any habit of restriction which economizes, which I can propose. Their thoughts seem devoted to domestic comfort, & the few amusements they engage in are innocent & inexpensive."40 Such penny-pinching would typically find Anne's daughters "making Shoes, altering dresses, & endeavouring to economize" for their attendances at social events.41 In the social seasons immediately following Mary and Eliza's visit to New York, life was especially dull for the Powell girls. It was during these years that Anne found herself in opposition to Lieutenant-Governor Gore over the attendance of Elizabeth Small at public gatherings. She reported that her daughters "yielded to my wish to avoid the publick assembly, with a chearfulness that did them

162 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

honor."42 On one occasion, all of the girls had prepared to attend a party when a visitor came with news that Mrs Small was to be there. "I made no comment on her information," Anne related, "but so soon as she was gone ask'd my Daughters if they chose to go. Mary just finished the trimming of a Gown for the Even[in]g laid it aside & with her Sisters answered in the negative. No more was said & we staid at home."43 Even if they were in complete agreement with their mother's moral position on Mrs Small's character, it must have been difficult indeed for these teenaged girls to give up their parties. Anne recognized this. "The singularly unfortunate situation of this devoted Family," she admitted, "precludes them from all those relaxations of which they see their equals in age & situation partake, yet I never hear a murmur, nor do I ever see a frown of dissatisfaction."44 Under these circumstances, frequent out-of-town visits were an even more important means by which Anne allowed her daughters some social freedom and autonomy. During this difficult period in York society, the eldest, Anne, spent the better part of every summer at the house of her brother John in Niagara, with family friends at Queenston, or with her friend Mary Cartwright at Kingston. Elizabeth and Mary were frequently absent for shorter periods, and during the entire winter of 1811-12 Mary resided at Niagara. "I should have been glad to pass the winter all together," Anne explained, "but Mary was invited to be Brides Maid to a Young Friend ... & was so anxious to accept the invitation that I could not but acquiesce. Indeed she merits indulgence; & our confined habitation makes them suffer many inconveniences when all are at home."45 Visiting was a safety-valve and a privilege, then, as well as serving an educational purpose. "To be casually removed from the immediate control or advice of a Mother," Anne explained, "is attended with probable advantage. It gives young people an opportunity of evincing their own Character 8c disposition & should the result be unfavorable to them, it at least removes the mask, & gives them time to amend what renders them unamiable in the eyes of those whose good opinion they are desirous to secure."46 The ability to behave properly in polite society was crucial to a young girl's prospects of marriage. Given that there was little money available to provide her daughters with a proper education, the least that Anne could do was make sure that they could behave with poise in public and to increase their opportunities of mingling in society and meeting eligible men. Fortunately, opportunities for attending public gatherings became more frequent after Anne's reconciliation with Lieutenant-

163 Education

Governor Gore in 1810. In the summer of that year, Anne attended a ball and supper at Government House in honour of the Royal Birthday, "with the four young lasses in my train" - her own daughters and the visiting Mary Cartwright. "The most powerful inducement for me to wish a renewal of intercourse," she admitted, "arose from the sort of exclusion of my Daughters, who resolutely refused to go without me." It was, indeed, a memorable evening for them and for Anne, who stayed "on the Sopha witnessing their gay movements till 6 oclock in the morning."47 With the easing of social tensions, less formal gatherings were also frequently organized. As Anne reported, "15 Gentlemen subscribe & with their families meet & dine at a pretty House about two 1/2 miles from town, once a fortnight. After dinner the fife & Drum induce the young folks to Dance; & we return home in the Evening in good humor one with another. Each subscriber takes his Cold Dish & Bottle of Wine, 8c a moderate rent is paid for the House, so we who are seniors purchase the pleasure of seeing our young people happy at a very triffling expense."48 Peter Ward, in his study of courtship in nineteenth-century English Canada, has pointed out how important such carefully supervised social gatherings were in bringing together eligible young men and women.49 Through attendance at such chaperoned social events, home instruction, and carefully supervised visiting, Anne did her best to fulfil the responsibility that she felt for launching her daughters in life. Still, she was quite dissatisfied with what she had been able to do for her girls. When she assumed responsibility for her William's daughters, Anne and Mary, she was determined to compensate for what her own daughters had missed. Mary and Anne were left "orphaned," as their grandmother put it, at a tender age by the death of their father in 1803. Their mother, Sarah Stevenson Powell, was seen not only as an unsuitable wife but as an even more inadequate mother. "Surely it is not unjust," Anne observed in 1806, "to say she feels not maternal affection. She left them without a tear & ... [it was] six weeks before she enquired for them." Legal adoption procedures were undertaken to remove the girls from the control of their mother, who, it was feared, might marry "some unworthy successor of their beloved and misguided Father."50 Although Sarah's daughters were taken from her, she was still expected to show an interest in them. When she did not, Anne caustically commented that "her neglect even of her children would in any other character be surprising. Not a line has she written for months, & when she did write, no one was mentioned with any marks of an affectionate remembrance. Unfortu-

164 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

hate marriage! In what difficulties has it involved me."51 "The children are better when she is at a distance," Anne observed a few years later. "The imbecility of her mind prevents her from seeing what is best for them and produces frequent disgusts."52 It would appear that Sarah could do nothing right, being also, according to Anne, "one of the dirtiest young women I ever saw," which was only "one of the hardships to which my poor William's precipitancy subjected him, for every thing indicative of slovenliness was a misery to him."53 Under these circumstances, Anne's duty was clear to her: since Sarah was not a proper mother, it was her responsibility to take care of the children. They must be brought up with the propriety appropriate to their station in life. As her granddaughters, she promised herself, they would have all the educational advantages that her daughters should have had. When the girls were young, she and their aunts did what they could to teach them at home. Mary, the eldest granddaughter, had, at seven, "the utmost attention ... paid to her improvement."54 Her learning was haphazard, however, consisting variously of reading the Bible and sermons, memorizing geography and catechism, and painting. By the time she was nine, she was "learning to write & comes on very well." Yet she and her sister Anne still did not have the benefit of more formal education. "We have a decent female school," her grandmother observed in 1811, "& I wish to send them. But Mr P opposes it, & I submit."55 Anne was not to let the matter drop quite so easily. Only a month later, she reported that she had won her point. "The Little Girls go to School," she told George. "They are taught all sorts of work, Geography, reading, writing & arithmetic. ... As the Governess is a well behaved young Woman will I hope be of benefit to the Children."56 The War of 1812 interrupted their formal education; afterwards, Anne was anxious for it to resume: "They have been taught all their aunt is capable of teaching them. Mary is well fitted to receive a better education. ... I have persuaded Mr P to permit me to take her to Montreal, for the purpose of learning French, Drawing and dancing, as well as to perfect her in Geography and other such acquirements." Second thoughts, however, convinced Anne, from "the indifferent account I have of the school and nunneries," that it was "very doubtful" they would be of good quality. "It would be unjustifiable to incur an expense which at best can be ill borne," Anne observed, "without securing essential advantages to the object of it."57 Yet Anne, pained at her daughters' lack of education, was still determined that "This evil would not be extended [to] the second generation."58

165 Education Other mothers of the Upper Canadian elite faced similar problems in providing for the education of their daughters. Hannah Jarvis's daughter, Elizabeth, initially attended the Reverend George O'Kill Stuart's school, which was opened at York in iSoy.59 The curriculum was adequate to teach her the rudiments of reading, writing, and other academic subjects, but could not provide her with further training, especially the important genteel accomplishments such as painting, music, dancing, and French. Nor could it provide for that poise, grace, and ease of manner so important to a well-bred young lady. Thus, Elizabeth was sent to Montreal and unfortunately placed at a very poor institution, where her education was neglected and her teacher bullied and tormented her into submission. Sally Ridout, also from York, was luckier as a pupil at a superior school in Montreal run by Mrs Goodman and Miss Purcell.60 Such inconsistencies in the quality of schools for girls concerned Anne when she considered sending her granddaughters away from home. Her solution, in common with other members of the Upper Canadian elite, was to place the girls in a more protected position, under the watchful eye of relatives. Catherine Prendergast, for example, was sent from Niagara to Albany in 1809 to be educated under the care of her maternal grandparents.6' Ann Jane Powell, Grant's daughter, was also placed at Albany, where her mother's family, the Bleeckers, lived.6" Anne's decision was to leave Mary at school in New York, under the ever-reliable care of her brother George and his wife. Sending their offspring to the United States where they could possibly absorb republican principles did not appear to concern many Upper Canadian parents at that time. At one very prominent and successful female school, the Litchfield Academy in Litchfield, Connecticut, Canadian students were not unusual. One pupil wrote that, in 1819, there were "ladies here from Canada." 6s A few of the old school registers have been preserved. Over the summer of 1816, the same year that Mary was sent to New York, there were five girls attending the Litchfield Academy from various parts of Canada - Kingston, Ernestown, and Montreal.64 Clearly, if superior education was to be had in the United States, Canadian girls would be sent there regardless of political differences. What this education consisted of must have varied somewhat from school to school. At Albany, Catherine Prendergast studied under the Andrews family, "lately from England & ... very much approved of here."65 She was taught music, painting, dancing, geography, and needlework, but, to her regret, not French. The Litchfield Academy had a somewhat more rigorous curriculum,

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training its students to memorize lessons in grammar, ancient and sacred history, geography and "elements," rhetoric, and, less frequently, chemistry. In addition, they were required to practise writing a journal and letters and were given religious instruction.66 The quality of education at Litchfield, under its mistress, Miss Sarah Pierce, appears to have been more academic than at most schools of that day. One student, Mary Chester, reported to her mother that "Respecting painting I find it is considered far from the first and when unaccompanied by the more solid branches of literature it is an inferior branch. Miss Pierce frequently laughs about a couple of young ladies who came here last summer to get an education: They did nothing at all but paint; staid about three weeks finished their education and return'd home."67 However, as historian Nancy Cott has explained, serious as educators like Miss Pierce may have been about improving the intellectual capabilities of girls, their avowed purpose was to qualify women to perform within their appropriate domestic sphere. "The successful rationale for improving women's minds," Cott has argued about girl's education in the United States in the early nineteenth century, "was founded on, not opposed to, woman's domestic occupation and maternal destiny."68 As Miss Pierce herself pointed out at around 1820: But few of our sex are called to act a conspicuous part on the grand Theatre of life, but our influence in community is notwithstanding of immense importance. Most men are so entirely engrossed by business as to have but little opportunity of fully understanding the characters of their children; this can be done only by the mother. She has it in her power to plant the seeds of vice or virtue and an awful responsibility rests upon her, if she does not exterminate every root of evil as she perceives it springing up in the heart or temper of her children. ... Nor does she confine her instruction to religion, but imbues their minds with human science and literature; for this end she studies the best authors, that she might be able to point out to her children their beauties and defects, and thus store their minds with sound ideas and solid principles, and fit them for acting on the scenes of busy life with firmness and dignity. Would every mother in this intelligent and free nation thus carefully train up her children, we should soon feel its beneficial effects, not only in private life, but in society.69

This classic early Victorian justification of female education based in the ideology of True Womanhood, however, is directed to those women who had husbands and children to care for. Anne wanted her granddaughters to marry and raise families, but she was far

167 Education

more concerned that they might not be able to depend upon a man for their support. She knew from her own difficult adolescent experience what could happen when a woman became a burden to her family, and she wanted to save her children from the humiliation that she felt she had suffered when she was forced to serve the public as a common shopgirl. The only respectable alternative to marriage or dependence on relatives for a middle-class woman was to earn a living, as Miss Sarah Pierce did, by teaching other daughters of genteel families. Anne was desperate to provide such an option for her granddaughters and, with great difficulty, persuaded William that the eldest, Mary, should be placed under the tutelage of a very proper young New York woman, Miss Jane English. "My earnest solicitude to enable her to obtain a respectable support in a future emergency enabled me to overcome a variety of obstacles and sustain great personal fatigue," Anne explained to George. She exhorted him to tell Mary "what she ought to be already convinced of, that I scarcely know a personal sacrifice to which I would not readily submit, could I see her just what she most admires and respects. Her excellent governess is the model by which I desire her to be formed, and I shall be fully rewarded for all I have done or may do, if I live to see her as able and as willing to become as valuable and respectable a member of her family and society."70 "I depend upon the expense being justified by her attention to acquire proficiency," Anne wrote on another occasion. "I shall then be grateful to Providence for the power to obtain for her the means of independence, for such if she does her duty may she acquire under her present tuition."7' Anne was very pleased with Mary's progress when she received a sample of her writing in early 1817, after she had been studying for almost a year. She proudly showed it off, reporting that "Mrs Gore, Mrs McGill and Dr Strachan with many more Friends have expressed much satisfaction at the specimen, and I expect as soon as she is able, I shall have the pleasure of shewing one of her drawingfs] equally creditable to her application." She evidently felt her efforts on Mary's behalf had not been wasted. "She certainly does credit to the care of her admirable governess," Anne noted. "How gratified should I be to think that if circumstances render it necessary, her talents will be employed as usefully as those of our dear Jane [English]. This is the hope which led me to the effort I made, and the only view in which it could be justified."72 But William was not as impressed. When he visited Mary at school before his departure to England in the spring of 1816, he complained to Anne that "your own Money will not suffice for Mary

i68 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

& ... no aid can be expected." He reluctantly gave "Miss E[nglish] fifty dollars" of his money "to provide Cloathing for the child who is said to be so bare that she cannot be produced where Miss E. visits."73 In early 1817, he complained to his daughter Anne that Mary's education was a waste of money. "I hope your Mother will consent that she should return to us ... for I do not think the profit to her equal to the Cost," he wrote.74 His wife was in complete disagreement with this assessment. In fact, Anne was eager to send her youngest granddaughter and namesake to join her sister. Although in early 1817 she heard that "Mrs Goodman from Quebec talks of opening a School here" and was well aware that "should it take place my patronage will be expected to promote an establishment greatly wanted," she preferred to send young Anne to New York.7f) Even though Mrs Goodman set up school at York the following spring, and William had "not yet acquiesced" and she was "loth to urge him to an expence" that he might resent, Anne had made up her mind. "I should prefer placing Anne under the care of our inestimable young Friend," she decided. Although Mrs Goodman was "very respectable," Anne was afraid that she did not "possess that extreme vigilance respecting the conduct of her pupils out of the School Room, which I think full as necessary." In addition, she explained, "another thing is objectionable to me. There can in this place be no distinction of classes. This objection does not arise from Aristocratic pride, but from the conviction that the vulgar habits of home, are more likely to become contagious, than to receive correction by example."76 Fortunately, she was able to report after a visit from Mary that summer that "Mr P has consented to my anxious wish that Anne should accompany her sister on her return to N. Yk." "For although a school is established here," she explained, "I am so truly sensible of the advantages given to Mary that I feel it [my] duty to exert every effort to obtain them for her sister. ... She requires that stimulus to application only to be obtained by emulation." This, she felt, could not be accomplished at home. "The young folks of her age are not desirable companions, in general they are unformed and uninstructed except upon topics of which they ought to be ignorant; and I fear that in this place personal accomplishments are too likely to be acquired at the expense of moral habits; a price too great for me to pay." In contrast, Miss English could provide the correct social and moral environment. "On this and indeed on every other point respecting Mary, my mind is so perfectly tranquil, that I am enabled to struggle against many vexations which might otherwise overpower me."77

169 Education

Chief among these vexations was money. William was at this time renovating their home and liberally dispensing money to Grant. Although he was also making a huge salary as chief justice, Anne observed that it "has as yet been little benefit to us." And even though William complained about the cost of his granddaughter's education, he actually paid for very little of it but merely gave his wife permission to spend her own money. "I can command no more than the annuity," Anne explained, fearing that she would subject George "to a moments inconvenience or deprive the dear little Girl of that instruction so important to her welfare."78 "God grant that the present expence may be repaid by the satisfaction of seeing them respectably established. At any rate it may enable them to be independent, by giving them the means to obtain a decent livelihood."79 William did not understand Anne's anxiety that her grandchildren receive the benefits of education that her daughters had missed out on. "I need not remark," he wrote to George, "that the partiality of your sister for these Children and the high Estimation of the care they were confided to, has induced me to incur an Expense altogether inadequate to the other Calls upon my income if equal Justice was done." "I make not this observation on any actual knowledge," he commented sardonically, "of the Benefit to be expected by such a Course of Education for children destined to inhabit the woods of Upper Canada."80 He then went on to suggest that his granddaughter Anne need not study French, as he doubted that she had any aptitude for it. William was later to relent on this point under the pressure of his wife's indignation. "I was astonished to find that he ever made any [objection]," Anne wrote, "as it appears to be considered, and really is, a necessary part of education, to acquire a language universally spoken."8' As well as French, the girls studied music, dancing, and drawing. These were in addition to "the more necessary parts" of their education such as geography, history, writing, and grammar, which, Anne observed, would occupy most of their time.82 Exposure to the social life of a larger urban centre was, of course, almost as important as the more formal aspects of the girls' education. Anne's sister-in-law introduced Mary and Anne into her own circle. On one occasion, she took them to visit her sister at Salisbury, which Anne approvingly considered "a charming excursion for my little Girls, and I trust they will be accompanied on their return by their lovely little Friends."83 Anne was anxious that the two girls make the best of all of the opportunities they were being given. "Indeed so much of my future tranquility depends upon the welfare of these poor Orphans, that their proving unworthy the

170 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

exertions I have made to promote it, would be an insupportable misfortune," she told George. "I do look forward to the result with hope and confidence. The virtue and merit of their amiable and excellent instructress convinces me that innate depravity can alone withstand the force of united example and precept."84 To their grandmother, then, favourable news of Mary and Anne was "more satisfactory than I can describe."85 On these two granddaughters had been bestowed all that she had wished to give her daughters but had been unable to. By 1819, the quality of schooling at York had improved sufficiently that the girls, now seventeen and fifteen, were able to return home. Anne felt that their years at New York had been very well spent. Although today we might consider their education to be of rather brief duration, by the standards of Upper Canada of that time it was "very much admired."86 The girls were soon introduced into York society. Anne reported that they had "enjoyed some pleasant dances and I have been amazed and interested in witnessing their performance." Their dancing lessons had evidently been successful, for, as Anne related, "Quadrilles were got up the last Evening, and they certainly displayed their movement to advantage, particularly Marys, who in my opinion excelled all her companions."87 Mary's accomplishments had even attracted the attention of the lieutenant-governor himself, who, Anne proudly revealed, "condescends to interest himself in Marys improvement in drawing; an art in which he excells. His Excellency has given her lessons."88 As well, Anne was delighted that "her Ladyship is pleased with their appearance and manners, and gratifies me by expressions of approbation." Mary, in particular, attracted much notice. "You would wonder to see a young person with so little pretension to beauty so universally noticed and admired," Anne boasted. "Surrounded by numbers of really pretty young women, she appears to be a magnet, particularly to those who possess discrimination as to intellectual attractions."80 As young Anne grew older, her grandmother found her equally exceptional. Of her correspondence, she observed that "few young people write better, either in hand or style,"90 and a piano was bought so that she would continue to develop her musical talent. "She is a universal favorite," Anne was happy to report. "Her unaffected and quaint manners and pleasing appearance are well calculated to make friends."9' Indeed, she related in 1825, "Anne is this winter the acknowledged Belle of all public places. She is really a very fine Girl and a showy young woman."98 Anne credited at least part of the successful upbringing of these granddaughters to her brother and his wife, "to whom they owe all that gratefull duty can express." In particular, she felt

171 Education indebted to her sister-in-law Elizabeth, declaring, "indeed what do we not all owe to her? Kindness and unexampled affection have ever marked her conduct towards me and mine. Its impression on my mind is indelible, and can only be expressed by the most unequivocal assurances of sisterly love."93 For Anne, the ability to provide for the education of these granddaughters was the fulfilment of a deeply felt obligation and was an important aspect of her relationship to the generations of women that followed her. As the female head of the family, Anne believed that their proper upbringing was her special responsibility. Her husband had little empathy with his daughters and did not see any purpose in providing them with an education. He gave his sons every material advantage to launch them in life but largely neglected his daughters and granddaughters. Anne did her best to compensate for William's indifference and adopted strategies such as visiting to expose her daughters to the larger world beyond insular York. Chief among her concerns was the possibility that her female offspring would be without respectable means of support if they did not marry. Once the boys had been established in life, Anne was able to provide for her granddaughters the education that her own girls had missed - but one expression of the close bonds that tied her to her daughters and granddaughters within the female sphere they shared.

8 Marriage and Childbirth

As Carroll Smith-Rosenberg has pointed out, "love" and "ritual" marked female relationships throughout the pre-Victorian period. Love expressed the intensity of feeling for other women and concern for their welfare and happiness; ritual highlighted those events that were pivotal in a woman's life. The first break from home, moving out of the mother's protective sphere into that of a trusted female relative, was one rite of passage. Two other important rites were integral to the role that women played in their society - marriage and childbirth. Just as Anne had felt that it was her special concern, indeed her duty, to provide for the proper upbringing and education of her female offspring, so too did she feel a great interest in their choice of husband. Once her daughters and granddaughters were married well, further peril awaited them in the almost inevitable consequence of childbirth. In this too, Anne's anxiety for her girls' well-being was great, and she was closely involved in many of their confinements. Like her preoccupation with their growth into properly educated young women, these concerns about marriage and childbirth were of comparatively little interest to William. Anne was not much involved in the marital choices of her sons, nor did she express any sense that she was entitled to exert any greater influence. Although she did not hesitate to show disapproval of the behaviour of her daughters-in-law if she felt it warranted, she was much less likely to openly censure her sons. She recognized that, for them, marriage was not the crucial determinant of their

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life's course. For her daughters and granddaughters, she understood marriage to be a much more serious matter upon which the outcome of the rest of their lives would depend. A woman in an unhappy marriage would have no other option but to make the best of it. For this reason, although she certainly wished her female offspring to marry, Anne preferred them to remain single rather than choose a husband unwisely. Thus, she agreed with her eldest daughter Anne's rejection of the unsuitable Quetton St George, and was also accepting of Anne's decision at twenty-one not to marry a more worthy suitor. "It is true it would have been pleasant to us all, could she have yielded to the persuasions of the wealthy young Merchant Miller," she pointed out to George. "But her decision to reject him, cannot nor ought to be opposed by me." Indeed, she asserted, her daughter was of "age to judge for herself, & wanting not penetration, if affluence & ease will not tempt her; there certainly must be a sincere repugnance to the Man. He is certainly in my opinion almost unobjectionable & all things consider'd it would have been fortunate had his long & earnest suit been successful, but even this I have not said to my daughter."1 Although, as Anne expressed it two years later, "I should think it fortunate should she fix for life with some deserving object, who has enough of this world's goods, to secure her happiness & competence,"2 she did not challenge her eldest daughter's decision to remain single. It was perhaps her own youthful elopement with the man of her choice that made her reluctant to dictate to her daughters whom they should marry. "As to your Nieces," she reported to George in 1811, "they are stationary, & the Country affords so few desirable connexions that there is little chance for them." When her youngest, Mary, attracted the attentions of the new young attorney-general, John Macdonell, "the flower of our youth in talents & manners," Anne did, however, find it difficult to understand her daughter's reluctance.3 The courtship of John and Mary was widely rumoured; while Mary was spending the winter of 1811-12 at Niagara, one observer noted that "When Miss M. Powell was asked if she was going to York this winter, the Blush on her cheek, the laugh in her eye, and the hesitating answer, was enough to say, who she expected."4 Mary's hesitation revealed more than maidenly reserve, however, as her mother was to learn when she returned home. "How rejoiced should I be to impart to you a prospect of a desirable establishment for either of your favoured nieces," Anne told George, "but I fear unwarrantable Caprice will ever prevent my enjoying such a satisfaction. ... I am confirmed in my opinion of the sincere attachment of the best Youth in the Province to your young-

174 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

est Niece. She surprised us by a sudden visit three days ago. I was not the only one delighted with the sight of her; but the hopes & expectations which have (I believe) stimulated a most excellent Mind to exertions for independence, are doomed to disappointment, Be. at the moment when the most complete success has crowned the unwearied efforts to obtain that independence." Anne was baffled by her daughter Mary's lack of interest. "Except herself no young woman in the Province would reject a man of 25; of talents integrity & exemplary goodness 8c Who at this early period is at the head of his profession; person & manners unexceptionable; yet this I must fear will be the case." Anne's interest in her daughter's marriage to John Macdonell was not entirely based on her wishes for Mary's future, however. She tellingly complained that she was "grieved to see her triffle with her own happiness & risk the sacrifice of all that remains of mine." Mary's refusal meant not only her own loss but also that her mother would "be disappointed in this long cherished wish of my Heart" in having to "bid adieu to every prospect of seeing by the means of my Daughter, a protector on whom I could in case of accident confide as in a Son."5 Still, when Mary persisted in her reluctance to accept her mother's choice, Anne was forced to relent. "I have written to her on a subject never absent from my thoughts," Anne explained to George, "& urged her by every attention to her own & my happiness to embrace this fair prospect for promoting both. Her assurances of doing all I wished were couched in such terms of anguish, that I voluntarily relinquished the promise her sense of duty to me had induced her to make; & I have this day a Letter of thanks for my consideration." Mary was indeed confused about her feelings and may have felt guilty about disappointing her mother. "It is a strange infatuation," Anne observed; "she declares there is no man she prefers to one who in her presence sees no one else; no one for whom she has a more perfect esteem; & yet the very idea of uniting her fate with this most excellent youth, is productive of unspeakable misery. Thus it rests."6 Ellen K. Rothman has noted a similar reluctance to marry on the part of some young American women. "Women were especially attuned to the somber side" of the prospect of marriage, she points out. "Because marriage meant the first break from home and the assumption of new duties and obligations, women were in general less eager than men to change their station in life."7 "One can easily imagine that the closer a young woman came to marriage the more she would have felt - and feared - the disparity between the ideal and the reality in the Tearful exchange' that would take place on

175 Marriage and Childbirth

her wedding day. She would give up courtship for the demands of True Womanhood made by marriage. A woman would be both more isolated from the world and more exposed to its dangers as a wife than as a daughter in her parents' house. She would no longer be free to come and go from the domestic circle; she would be enclosed within and defined by it. The transition to marriage then, appeared to women to have freedom and security at one end and risk at the other."8 Perhaps Mary, then just turned twenty, was not yet ready to tie herself to a husband in bonds that could only be broken by death. She continued to hide from her suitor by remaining out of York, but the War of 1812 was to intervene to make marriage with Macdonell impossible. His sudden and tragic death at the Battle of Queenston Heights brought a permanent conclusion to the matter. Whatever Mary's feelings for him might have been, his loss had a powerful impact on her. Combined with the stress that had preceded it, Mary suffered "loss of flesh and complexion" which was, her mother felt, "in part the consequence of complaint in her Stomach from which she frequently suffers, but still more to unceasing regret for the unkindness to one who merited and I believe possessed her best affection. For many months subsequent to the dreadful loss sustained on the 13th of October, I feared no time would restore her tranquility." Macdonell had increased Mary's guilt by leaving her a "generous bequest" which was "a proof of his regard, which she could not but feel a reproach for her capricious conduct; - but these are sentiments I have never hinted to her," Anne concluded. "The good sense she possesses, and the vivacity of her feeling rendered it unnecessary; and the subject is ever carefully avoided."9 Anne was never again to attempt to promote her own preference of a husband for any of her daughters or granddaughters. Nor was she anxious simply to marry them off. When the aging Colonel Coffin, "one of the best men in the world," revealed "a long concealed attachment" to the twenty-five-year-old Mary, her mother felt that her "decided refusal" was given "very properly." As Anne explained, "She feels none of that partiality which might induce a young woman to leave a comfortable home, where she is her own mistress, to share the limited income of a man who is between 50 and 60; and who may probably be taken from a family, which all her energies would be unable to provide for." Clearly there was nothing positive to be gained for Mary or her family from such a marriage. "I should rejoice to see my daughters well established," Anne concluded, "but I confess such a connexion as I have de-

176 Transmission of Female Gender Roles scribed would be grievous to me."10 A year later, Mary finally decided on the man of her choice - John MacdonelTs friend Samuel Peters Jarvis. He was a young and impetuous lawyer who, only the previous year, had been briefly jailed for his fatal duel with John Ridout. As the eldest son of William Jarvis, the provincial secretary and registrar, and his wife, Hannah, he must have been known to Mary and her mother all his life. Anne wished that Samuel's "prospects were more immediately favorable," but she was confident that he would soon build up his Queenston law practice.11 "In the honor and probity of my Son-in-law I have the most perfect confidence," Anne assured George. "All of the connexions of Mr J. appear greatly flattered by the choice he has been permitted to make and I think I may without vanity say, none could be more creditable to him or more respectable in every point."12 Although Jarvis was not the match she had initially wished for her daughter, Anne accepted Mary's choice with good grace. Her two other daughters were to remain single, and this she also accepted. An arranged and loveless marriage was not an option that she considered for her daughters. So much of their future happiness depended on their choice that she was content to let it be a free one. As Peter Ward has pointed out, marriage was for women "the most important contract they would make in their lives.'"3 It was crucial that a prospective bride be certain that she felt confident about the man who would determine her fate. Anne's view of the importance of love, or, as she often expressed it, "sincere regard" as the basis for a marriage made her disapproving of the methods that her son Grant used to marry off his daughters. His eldest, Ann Jane, she conceded, "is a fine child, but I fear she sees too clearly the high opinion her Father has of her capacity and appearance." "I do not think either extraordinary," Anne observed tartly, "tho' quite sufficient if not injured by vanity."14 Anne Jane was rather frivolous in nature and gloried in being sent to Albany to be "finished" in that society under the protection of her mother's family. "I know not how the dulness of this place will suit her after the adoration she has received at Albany," Anne commented to George. "I wish it may be productive of a respectable establishment ... but I suspect you are right, that beauty however admired seldom leads to matrimonial connexions except accompanied by riches."'5 Ann Jane's father was in no position to tempt a suitor for his daughter with money, so he jumped at the chance to marry her off to the comfortably established Reverend William Macaulay. His mother disapproved of every aspect of the arrangement but did not interfere. "Grant is more elated by the prospect of

177 Marriage and Childbirth

Ann Jane's marriage than she is," she wrote. "It was quite a regal transaction, the Gentleman applying to the Father before he had the slightest acquaintance with the Daughter."16 Anne was not enthusiastic about her granddaughter's prospects. "Tho' 14 years older than herself and far from good looking," she wrote of Macaulay, "he possesses worldly means, and is I believe accepted. Affection with her is out of the question, but if she can conquer her inordinate love of admiration and her visible efforts to obtain it she will do very well. She is very good tempered, but vain and frivolous, and wants candor."'7 Ann Jane was unable to restrain herself, however, and the results were just as her grandmother had expected. The pompous Macaulay decided that such a wife could not be for him. "After a day passed in the indulgence of the ill temper for which he is notorious," Macaulay made his decision. "He called the next morning ... when his first address was, 'Miss Powell will you release me from my engagement.' - 'Certainly Sir' was the reply, 'good Morn[in]g Madam', concluded the interview. You will be more surprised than I was at this intelligence," Anne commented wryly. "The transaction created a great sensation. Grant was disappointed in proportion to the benefits he had anticipated; Mrs P tho' vexed at the manner was rejoiced that the marriage would not take place." The future bride herself was not heartbroken but more concerned with her material losses. "Ann Jane, whose inducements were consequence and finery was mortified at being obliged to relinquish with the fine jewellery he had presented, the prospects of importance, that had tempted her to consent to become the Wife of a Man she did not and could not care for." Apparently jealousy had deterred Ann Jane's suitor, "because a young Gentleman looked at her and smiled at Church, which seeing him [Macaulay] in the pew was natural to do." "It really is fortunate," Anne decided, "for Ann Jane cannot restrain her efforts to attract admiration or conceal the pleasure it affords her; a disposition only to be corrected by a union with a Man possessing her whole affection; Macaulay knew he did not" The entire matter was, in Anne's opinion, ridiculous from beginning to end and was no way in which to decide upon one's future. "I hope it will teach her caution and delicacy," she concluded, "of which there has been a great deficiency since the commencement of this silly affair.'"8 Ann Jane's near brush with a loveless marriage was somewhat comic, but her sister suffered quite a different fate. Evidently, all of Grant's daughters failed to live up to what Anne considered acceptable standards of propriety. In particular, her granddaughter Elizabeth showed early signs of behaviour that would "reap benefit from

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restriction, for no girl past 15 ever required it more." Anne was shocked when she behaved with "very incautious volatile manners in the public street."19 As with Ann Jane, Grant was determined to marry off Elizabeth as soon as possible. "I hear Elizabeth is to be married in a month," Anne wrote in 1834. "A great change must take place in her habits to fit her for the duties she is about to assume, and I fear the result will prove neither fortunate nor satisfactory." Principally, Anne was concerned that Elizabeth was entering a loveless union. "Affection on her part is out of the question; and of [this] everyone who knows her is fully aware," Anne observed.20 Elizabeth went ahead and married her suitor, John Stuart, with results even worse than Anne had feared. A year later, she commented that "hers is a most ill assorted and unhappy match. He was aware of her indifference before marriage, and is not in either person or manners calculated to excite affection. It is a forlorn prospect."21 Elizabeth did not suffer her poor marriage passively, however. After five years of unhappiness, she abandoned her husband and three daughters for John Grogan, a British officer of the 32nd Regiment then stationed in Canada. This resulted in Stuart's unprecedented suing for and obtaining a divorce, creating a terrible scandal. Grogan eventually did the honourable thing and married his paramour, but this did nothing to redeem him in Anne's eyes. "Her crime will be her punishment," she wrote of Elizabeth, "for misery must attend a marriage with a noted Proffligate who tho' neither young nor even good looking has been the ruin of several married Women; some of respectable connections."22 Elizabeth's sister Charlotte was implicated in their intrigue and thus, Anne felt, could not hope ever to be considered eligible for polite society. Her marriage in 183910 Mr Ridout, whose "Father is the illegitimate son of the late Surveyor Genl, his Mother the illegitimate daughter of Mr Small late clerk of the executive council,"23 was a step down in the world, but, Anne pointed out, "under the present degrading circumstances it is as favorable as we have any right to expect. Nothing can exonerate Charlotte from the suspicion of having shut her eyes to her Sisters criminal conduct, for the purpose of promoting her own views in attaching to herself the constant companion of the bad man to whom her sister has sacrificed her own earthly happiness."24 Whether or not Charlotte was pursuing Grogan's friend, she fortunately does not seem to have entered into her marriage with any serious emotional attachment to anyone else that might have damaged it. "Charlotte has much to answer for in this disgraceful affair, and has never regained her place in the most respectable part of this community," Anne concluded. "But she

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has an Husband who never disputes her will, and grants her every indulgence."25 Fortunately, such scandals occurred after Anne's favoured granddaughters reached marriageable age. Although she could retain some detachment from the follies of Grant's daughters, for William's Mary and Anne her concern was intense. As with her own daughters, she wanted to ensure that they made the right choices, ones that would lead to future happiness. In 1824, when Mary and Anne were twenty-two and twenty, their grandmother commented that she "most earnestly" wished "to see them eligibly settled, but I know not one young Man here, who would be my choice, tho' there are many very respectable."26 "I feel in no hurry, tho' I should be glad to see them respectably settle."27 Although Anne had always felt that marriage partners should be freely chosen and not arranged, she was horrified when Mary encouraged the attentions of Alexander Chewett, a young lawyer. It is not entirely clear what it was about Chewett that made him such an inappropriate choice for this beloved granddaughter. In the spring of 1825, when Anne first noticed Mary's attraction, she was swift to condemn it. She explained to George that Mary was "I fear encouraging an inclination which if indulged seperates us for ever." As she expressed it, "the object possesses neither personal nor mental qualifications."28 Her negative response did not succeed in discouraging Mary. By the following fall, Anne lamented that "it is now I fear too late. The young man has applied to us, and I have reason to believe a positive agreement exists between them." Everything about the affair was repugnant to her. "The clandestine means he has used to induce her to act in known defiance of my avowed opinions sufficiently exemplifies his character." There was something about the young man that deeply disturbed her, that went beyond mere lack of manners, however. "The total absence of personal attraction, and the utmost vulgarity of manner render this infatuation unaccountable," she explained. "It grieves me to my very soul to see all my hopes blasted, and myself viewed as one governed by caprice and prejudice."29 Anne's objection was not to the young man's prospects. Although "as the wife of a county practitioner" Mary would have to "submit to associate with vulgarity, even more conspicuous than that which marks the manners of the man of her choice,"30 Anne had to admit that "the only redeeming quality in this destroyer of my hopes, is professional talents; they will promote his interest." However, she felt that "nothing can eradicate the vulgarity of his mind and manners, or change that spirit of contradiction which is inherent in his disposition."3I It was

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unlikely in that status-conscious society that a man could be successful in the legal profession without at least some pretension to the manners of a gentleman. What repelled Anne and fascinated her granddaughter may have been a kind of forceful sexuality in Alexander. "Boy and Man the same unfeeling disregard of whatever opposed his own wilful disposition has marked the character of this person," Anne asserted. "The slightest regard to decent respect for the opinion of others would have averted the misery he has caused to me." And, more revealingly, she commented darkly that "my blood curdles when I think of the probable consequences of a union so degrading to the being I have cherished from her infancy."32 Certainly none of the male members of the family shared Anne's extreme concern for Mary's fate. Grant, she felt, had shown an "indifference he feels in whatever concerns the niece considered as the rival of his daughter [Ann Jane]. At a very early period of this miserable business, I applied to him verbally and by letter to interfere so far as to tell the young man his visits were unpleasant." Grant realistically "forbore to do it with the remark that 'he was fully aware Marys disposition was such, that my expressing disapprobation would be the most certain means of confirming her resolution to do what was otherways indifferent.' " Anne was deeply hurt by Grant's refusal to participate in the rejection of Chewett. "This illiberal opinion closed our conference on this subject and not one syllable has since escaped me to him respecting it," she wrote.33 Anne's brother George echoed Grant's practical advice, urging Anne somewhat more tactfully to exercise caution.34 William, too, found her vehemence mystifying; although he did not approve of Alexander, he saw the marriage as a necessity on purely pragmatic grounds. The circumstances were indeed "most painful to your Sister," he explained to George. "But such is the actual state of her Mind that I fear to condemn the extravagence of her aversion to the alliance resolved upon by Mary. Although for my own part I do not approve of the Match, I cannot think it justifiable to oppose it without [the] prospect of offering in Exchange something more desirable in these Circumstances which seem to have much weight with your Sister." William was far more concerned that Mary find a means of permanent financial support. "The rapid approach of that period which must leave our grand Daughters far from independent," he observed, "should I think have weight to modify objections to an establishment promising or rather holding out so many advantages to the Sisters & their Mother for whom I shall not be able to do much."35

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Anne's male relatives thus could not understand and did not share her extreme concern over the fate of this granddaughter. She had gone to such lengths to educate Mary precisely so that she would have the means of independence and not be forced into an unhappy marriage as an alternative to poverty. Although there was very likely some element of snobbery in her rejection of Alexander, Anne's major concern was Mary's welfare. Knowing only too well how little power a woman had in marriage, she was afraid that Mary would commit herself to someone who would abuse his position. "God grant that my anticipations of the consequences may be unfounded," Anne prayed without conviction, "and that she may many years enjoy happiness in the society she has selected."36 Convinced that Mary had positively committed herself to Alexander, Anne saw no way out. By the rigid code of conduct expected of those in polite society, to refuse him now would be to invite scandal. Not only had he "induced her to enter into a clandestine correspondence," but "the perseverence and success of this Man's efforts would make any breach of promise which she has been induced to make, almost as prejudicial to her fame as the performance cannot fail to be to her happiness."37 When Alexander took advantage of Mary's visit at Niagara to arrange a meeting with her, the "consequence ... was a report that the marriage had taken place," yet another proof, Anne contended, of his "total disregard of propriety or the feelings of others."38 So intense was the scrutiny of that small elite society that such assignations could hardly pass unnoticed. Under these circumstances, Anne was forced to resign herself to the inevitable. "In my last conversation with Mary I declared my determination never more to interfere in what was her own concern," she assured George.39 Despite such a promise, Anne continued to apply pressure of a different kind. She refused to give her granddaughter money to prespare for her wedding, and made sure that "as it respected me she was aware of the consequences" of marrying Alexander.^0 Not only would she refuse to attend the wedding, she would also never have any sort of contact with Mary's husband. Fortunately, from Anne's point of view, Alexander had recently moved to the district of Gore in the western part of the province. Anne sought to make the separation wider; at her urging, George came to visit in November and took Mary back to New York with him the next month. Anne hoped that these measures would precipitate some change. When she next saw Mary in the spring of 1826, Anne was gratified to sense an alteration in her feelings for young Chewett. He con-

i8a Transmission of Female Gender Roles

tinued to write to Mary, but Anne did not object, having "made up my mind to let the affair take its own course."4' Mary herself appeared "at a loss, and I have no doubt, severely regrets her precipitate conduct and direct opposition to my opinion and wishes. That she is sick of her entanglement I am now sure."42 She attributed Mary's change of heart to "the selfish vulgarity of his letters,"43 which had "disgusted her." "I suppose the rough vulgarity of his expressions were more offensive on paper than in conversation."44 This combined to break "the charm and made her repent the unaccountable infatuation."45 Furthermore, she was delighted to learn that Mary had not absolutely committed herself to her suitor, and that she might yet "extricate herself."46 Mary certainly had a difficult time disentangling herself. Her grandmother noted that she "appears greatly perplexed and cast down."47 Once back from New York, Mary told Alexander she would not marry him and, her Aunt Mary Jarvis reported, "his behaviour did not evince much kindness or delicacy of feeling, but I believe he still flatters himself that she was not in earnest."48 Alexander responded by paying a longer visit to York, and, possibly encouraged by her grandparents' retirement to England, pressing his suit. Every morning, "as soon as I may say sooner than decency will warrant," he called at her Aunt Mary's home, where she was staying, and sat in the drawing room the better part of the day. Although her aunt prevailed upon her not to go downstairs at first, Mary ended up receiving him. "I cannot understand her feelings," wrote her disgusted aunt. "She says she likes him but acknowledges that she feels ashamed of him before strangers, and well she may, for he is ten times more ugly and vulgar than ever."49 To the relief of all, Mary was ultimately able to tear herself away from Alexander Chewett; to her grandmother's great happiness, she eventually chose a man that her family approved of. While she was still vacillating over her unpopular suitor, the young sheriff of York, William Botsford Jarvis, a younger cousin of her Aunt Mary's husband, was quietly buying up the family tea-trays and other household goods sold upon Anne and William's departure for England.50 Seeing that Mary was finally free of Chewett, a little more than a year later he had her promise to be his wife. "I believe Aunt Mary is writing to you on a subject which I scarcely know how to introduce but which I feel necessary to communicate to you," Mary explained to her grandmother. "The unhappiness and vexation I once experienced from acting in opposition to your wishes by entering into an engagement of which you disapproved determined me never to allow myself to feel anything like regard for any human being as long

183 Marriage and Childbirth as I lived. But time which softens and sometimes changes the feelings entirely has I confess so altered mine as to convince me that my resolution was a foolish one and in having formed a good opinion of a person who is generally esteemed in this place with the entire approval of my kind friends here I do not feel that I have done wrong and I am encouraged to hope for your and Grand Papa's approval."51 This match was suitable in all respects. Her Aunt Mary Jarvis thought him an odd choice but assured Anne that he was "I am sure sincerely attached to her, and he feels honored by her acceptance of him. He will make a kind Husband and study her wishes in every thing."52 William Jarvis may not have been a dashing suitor and was, Anne admitted, "by no means the person I should have been led to select," but he was "unobjectionable as to character and station in society. His honor and integrity are unimpeachable and no young Man is I believe more respected." "You know my aversion to a former attachment," she explained to her brother, "originated in a conviction of the worthlessness of its object. ... Similar apprehensions cannot now influence me."53 Mary's grandfather was also gratified by her "choice so generally acceptable to your friends and promising to conduce to your future comfort and Respectability." He wrote her a warm congratulatory letter from England, assuring her that, although he had "no very intimate acquaintance with Mr Jarvis," he had "always thought him to be a prudent and well disposed character, the more likely to ensure happiness in the married state." "His conduct as a Son and Brother has been acknowledged to be exemplary and meritorious, the surest indication of what may be expected from the Husband." In a rare fit of generosity, he urged Mary to buy whatever she needed for the wedding at his expense and to not let "any consideration of dress or Ornament retard your mutual happiness. ... I shall ever bear in mind my dear child that Heaven has entrusted to your grandmother and myself, the duty of protecting you and your sister. "5/1 Anne had taken this duty very seriously indeed. She had always seen it as her special role to protect and promote the happiness of her daughters and granddaughters. She was especially gratified when her granddaughter Anne, who had resisted many suitors, finally married the family doctor, William Gwynne, in 1835. Her approval of this match did not prevent her from ensuring that her granddaughter retained control of her own property inherited from her grandfather by means of antenuptial contract.55 Perhaps in this we see the influence of Anne's eminently pragmatic aunt, Elizabeth Inman. Gwynne's willingness to agree to such an arrangement must

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have made him more worthy in her eyes, and Anne was happy to report shortly after the wedding that "Anne and the Dr were here last Eveng" and appeared "quite happy and have cause to be so. How thankful I ought to be and am for my dear Annes eligible establishment, tho' I certainly miss her greatly."56 If marriage was a prospect fraught with danger and peril and an important transition in a woman's life, its inevitable consequence, childbirth, was even more so. Anne's worry and concern that her offspring ensure their happiness in their choice of husband was transformed into a much more immediate fear for their physical safety in bearing children. Death or severe illness was a very real prospect, and Anne's loss of her own dear sister-in-law in childbirth in 1792 must have given her fear an extra edge. As Judith Leavitt has observed in her history of childbirth in America, "Maternity, the creation of new life, carried with it the ever-present possibility of death."57 In such a time of peril, the support of other and especially more experienced women was essential. Smith-Rosenberg has pointed out that "Childbirth, especially the birth of the first child, became virtually a rite de passage, with a lengthy seclusion of the woman before and after delivery, severe restrictions on her activities, and finally a dramatic reemergence. This seclusion was supervised by mothers, sisters, and loving friends."58 This exclusively female ritual, as Catherine Scholten has observed, was, it is true, undergoing a transformation from an event involving a larger female community and a midwife to a more narrow family-centred occasion with a male physician.5-1 Yet, as Leavitt has argued, "My research shows rather that for the entire home-birth period, until women moved into hospitals in the twentieth century, women friends, neighbours, and relatives continued to offer birthing women psychological support and practical help and that these female-centred activities dominated most American births, whether or not they were attended by male physicians."60 The rightful place of a mother was by her daughter's side during such a crisis. Ann Jane, who ultimately married a Mr Charles Seymour and moved with him to a government post far from home, was forced to have her first child without being attended by female relatives. "Ann Jane is to be confined this month," her grandmother observed. "Poor thing she will feel the want of a Mothers care, to obviate a variety of difficulties."61 Anne herself served as surrogate mother to her son John's wife, Ellen, upon the birth of her first child, moving into their home for three weeks to ease her through the transition to motherhood.62 When her own daughter had faced the prospect of childbirth, Anne's desire to be with her had been even more pressing.

185 Marriage and Childbirth Not long after her marriage in 1818, Mary had become pregnant. This was the first time any of Anne's daughters was to have children, and the event was of extreme importance to all the Powell women. Her sister and mother rallied to Mary's support in such a time of crisis. "Eliza goes on the 23d to Queenston, where Mary is very anxious to have her company and assistance," Anne related. "I am equally solicitous for her to go. Indeed I have great anxieties for this dear Daughter and have determined that nothing I can now forsee shall prevent my going to her. ... I know her heart yearns to have us with her. God grant her safety in the hour of peril. I am aware of my inability to combat my fears and anxieties, were I to remain here, and for once in my life, I consult my own ease, before that of my husband, who must for a few weeks relinquish my attendance."63 There was quite a collection of supportive women at Mary's home as the time of birthing approached. Besides her sister Elizabeth (her other sister Anne was at this time visiting in England) and her mother, Mary's sister-in-law and mother-in-law also joined them.64 It was a gathering to which men were not invited. "If I was sure of it & could believe I would not intrude," William complained, "I should be tempted to anticipate ... [your return] by a short visit ... but no more of that." William was only too well aware that his presence would be unwelcome, and he contented himself with sending salutations only. "Accept my sincere wishes for your comfort & well doing of Mary in her approaching trial," he wrote.65 Mary was to need all this collected female support and expertise during her traumatic first birth experience. It was an extremely difficult labour with tragic results. "Our beloved Mary after 36 hours dreadful suffering was an hour ago delivered of a dead child," Anne informed George. "She is thanks to the Almighty for his merciful preservation as well as we can expect." Anne did not leave her daughter's side and was "fatigued with two sleepless nights and much mental anxiety."66 Whether or not a physician was called in at the birth is uncertain, but there was medical involvement at some point. "The Dr appears to think her progress if tardy will be sure," Anne commented a few days later. Less than a week after Mary's labour, Anne was reluctantly forced to return home to attend to her own household responsibilities. "Altho' my reason convinced me of the necessity of my return home my heart sunk from the apprehension of the return of unfavorable symptoms."67 Elizabeth stayed with Mary, however, and soon brought her to York so that they could nurse her back to health. There she was examined by her physician brother, Grant, who proclaimed "no cause for alarm," which, for Anne, removed "forebodings which her first experience was calcu-

i86 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

lated to excite." Still, she continued to worry. "Tho' there is no cause for apprehension of immediate consequences, I cannot divest myself of the conviction that her constitution has received a shock which not even time will conquer." Samuel Jarvis's role in all this was definitely not central. Anne was fulsome in her praise of his behaviour, asserting that "never was the character of an affectionate Husband and a faithful nurse more completely blended than in my son in Law. His attentions are uniform and unwearied."68 He was content, however, to leave his wife in her mother's home until she was well enough to return to Queenston. Samuel's concern over his wife's health did not appear to extend to taking measures to prevent her from having to endure another such ordeal until she was totally recovered. Less than three months after her devastating experience of childbirth, Mary was pregnant again, probably conceiving immediately after her return to Queenston. Anne let this circumstance pass without comment, and we are left to wonder if she disapproved of her son-in-law's precipitancy or whether she accepted it as an inevitable consequence of marriage. If she did censure Samuel, her sense of propriety may have prevented her from mentioning it to her brother. "Mary is more recovered than I ever expected, but her looks are not nor is it likely they will ever be restored," Anne noted the following March when Mary was a little less than four months pregnant. "But she appears very happy, and I trust her Husbands affections do not depend on the beauty of her face."6y As Mary's time again drew near, her female relatives gathered around her, and she spent as much time with them as she could. "My dear Daughter Mary Jarvis left us yesterday after a visit of a fortnight," Anne told her cousin Betsey when Mary was seven months pregnant. "Her misfortune last summer, will I trust be recompensed by the more fortunate issue of her present pregnancy." "Eliza goes to her the middle of next Month," she added, "and I follow her in August. Tho' little able to afford assistance or endure fatigue, the anxiety of absence at such moment would be insupportable to me."7° For Mary, the worry must have been even more intense. "Mary stays in very low spirits," Anne reported from Queenston shortly before her daughter was to go into labour.7' Fortunately, the outcome of this second pregnancy was better. "I have the pleasure to tell you that our dear Mary made us a present of a very fine Boy this morning," Anne announced jubilantly on 23 August 1820. "Thank God her sufferings tho' severe, were not protracted ... she has every appearance of doing well."7" Although Anne's sons had already provided her with several grandchildren, her daughter's first baby was somehow more special. "He

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certainly is the most beautiful and sweetest tempered child I ever saw," asserted the doting grandmother. "The expression of his large dark blue Eyes is not to be described, but is so uncommon, that whoever saw him immediately exclaimed, 'What beautiful eyes he has.'" Anne was more immediately involved with the development of this baby than with any of her sons' children. Mary was a frequent and welcome visitor at York, relying on her mother and sister for support in her transition to motherhood. "You cannot imagine how I missed the little Cherub," Anne wrote after one such visit. "Mary says he missed us all, for when he returned home, he was not satisfied in any part of the House. Forgive me my Dearest George these indulgences of a grandmothers fondness."73 Anne, now over sixty-five and with many responsibilities at home, was content to leave the management of Mary's subsequent pregnancies and birthings to younger female relatives; in particular to her daughter Eliza. This did not mean that she ceased to worry about them. Although once safely through her second pregnancy the mother was unlikely to suffer seriously in the ones that followed, there was always an element of danger. Even after several births, Samuel was to hasten to assure his mother-in-law in 1828, when she was in England, of Mary's continued good health. "Aware of Mrs Powells great anxiety respecting Mary's confinement," he wrote, "I hasten to communicate the intelligence of her being safely through her difficulties, and of announcing the arrival of a little Boy."74 While she was still concerned for her own daughter's safety, Anne's extreme anxiety about childbirth was revived by the marriages of her granddaughters. Since it would appear that birth control was rarely practised by the early Upper Canadian elite, becoming a wife was synonymous with becoming a mother. As expected, the youngest Mary had little time to wait after her marriage before she too became pregnant. Anne was glad to be back from England in time for the birth. "She is well," the concerned grandmother reported, "but the contemplation of the future is apt to depress her spirits."75 Her sister Anne moved into her house in Rosedale, just outside of York, in the weeks prior to the birth in order to ease Mary's anxiety. "I am endeavouring so to arrange as to have Mary with me during her approaching trial," the elder Anne explained. "Her health is upon the whole very tolerable, but her spirits are apt to flag." "I think her best earthly support," wrote her grandmother, "will arrive from being surrounded by those who have unceasingly watched her past life. I wish certainly it was over, tho' there is no apparent cause for particular apprehension."76 In the end, Mary stayed at Rosedale, blocked by bad roads from travel-

i88 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

ling to York. Anne, just turned seventy-five and "sensible of my inability to afford aid," stayed at home, but Mary's Aunt Elizabeth, as well as Grant's wife, and Mary's sister Anne gathered there to assist her. Although Mary's "sufferings" were "unusually severe," they "were not protracted," and Anne was delighted to become the great-grandmother of a baby girl.77 Mary's recovery, however, was slow, and she was not "permitted to leave her Bed for a moment till eleven days after the birth of her Infant." "I believe the Dr thought her situation very critical," Anne reported, "but by the blessing of God, her patient resignation to His will has been rewarded by perfect convalescence." Throughout her recovery, her sister Anne had "never left her but for a few hours," seeing her through the crisis.78 Young Anne herself was not so fortunate when she underwent her first labour six years later. "Of course her spirits are often depressed," her grandmother commented as the pregnancy drew to a conclusion. "I am as much with her as I can be."79 The labour turned out to be a very difficult one. "After 60 Hours of excruciating agony, by surgical assistance a breathless Boy was brought into this miserable world," her grandmother reported with great anxiety; I grieve to say ... in consequence of the severity of her long protracted suffering her situation is such as to preclude the possibility of removal from her Bed, and I fear lasting injury to her health. I have but once been permitted to see her; our mutual anxiety to meet, being over ruled by fear of agitation. ... Poor thing the loss of the Baby affects her greatly, the more from the recollection of her professed aversion to Children, and the hopes of never experiencing maternal cares or pleasures. ... The poor Doctor [Gwynne called in] ... professional aid ... Dr Widmer ... with Dr Deahl and Dr Morton. Her Aunt and sister Mary never left her from the first till all was over; the latter was her unceasing attendant night and day, greatly to the injury of her own Baby. The attention of her affectionate Husband has been unremitting ... both as nurse and Doctor. ... You will readily believe the anxiety I experience; my poor Child, for such she has been to me from her birth, engages every thought, and I trust the Almighty will grant my supplications for her restoration that she may assist to close the eyes of one who loves her with maternal affection.80

Although it was almost four months before she could get up and walk about her room, young Anne recovered sufficiently to deliver a healthy baby a year and a half later.8' She did, however, suffer from a great deal of pain and was not able to breast-feed her daughter. For this child and the one that followed two years later, a wet nurse was resorted to.82

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Granddaughter Mary must have been grateful that her own confinements were never so debilitating as to require such "surgical assistance." For every woman, each pregnancy held out the prospect of death or severe disability and could generate intense fear. "We were and are still so situated at Rosedale as to be totally unable to receive any visitors," commented her concerned husband as Mary's third confinement approached. "Mary is very far from being well, in fact as her period of confinement approaches, she from fear and other causes suffers much, and is half her time confined to her room - We do not look for signales before the middle of August if all goes right, but appearances would lead us to believe a much sooner period - God grant she may get well thro' her difficulties her spirits are very much affected, and her fears great."83 The perils of childbirth made the moral support and the assistance of loving female friends and relatives important to expectant mothers. Although physicians were increasingly called upon in difficult cases, childbirth was still a women-centred event. Clearly, Anne felt that the future happiness of her daughters and granddaughters was tied to their choice of husband. The wealth, social position, and career prospects of any suitor had to be taken into prudent consideration, but the real key to marital happiness, she knew, was the temperament of the man and mutual affection. Knowing that a bad marriage would sentence a woman to a life of misery from which there was no real escape, she at times intervened in what she felt were their best interests, but she did not dictate that choice to them, believing that they should follow their own inclinations. The marital mistakes that Grant's daughters made by accepting their father's choices were to Anne evidence of her point of view. Grant was far more interested in the wealth and status of the suitors and did not consider their compatibility with his daughters. Once married, women were all faced with the inevitable physical peril of childbirth. Although Anne could not protect her daughters and granddaughters from this trial, she and other female relatives sought to do what they could to ease the experience. They moved into the expectant mother's home, all but pushing her husband out, assisted at the birthing, and stayed for some time after the birth to nurse the new mother back to health. This was an important source of strength and support and a positive aspect of the female culture of domesticity largely lost to women today.

9 The Limitations of "Woman's Sphere"

The female members of the Upper Canadian elite may have led a more privileged and financially secure existence than their sisters of more humble origins, but this did not necessarily ensure for them greater opportunities in life. As Peter Russell points out, female occupations were severely restricted in Upper Canada. Women of the lower classes might be shopkeepers, milliners, servants, or prostitutes; they might run boarding houses, keep inns or work on the land as farmers' wives. This was certainly not a broad or attractive range of options. But there was almost no way women of the middle and upper classes could provide for themselves outside of marriage.1

Although wives of upper-class men had a certain sphere of activity as members of elite society, their status was completely dependent on their husbands' social standing. They could attend balls and other functions, be hostesses, and visit other ladies of that privileged group. Their duties as mothers and household managers in those days of high birth rates would, however, occupy the major part of their time.2 Unmarried or widowed women might be able to support themselves through teaching, but this required a better education than could normally be attained by women in early Upper Canada. Single women who never married were in the least advantaged position. "To be female and alone in Upper Canada," Russell has observed, "was to be confined to the lower ranks of the social scale."3 Such women were forced to live in the households of relatives unless some sort of pension had been set aside for them, a

igi Limitations of "Woman's Sphere"

rare occurrence indeed. Their role in life would consist of assisting other women in running their households and, if they had some leisure and autonomy, aside from social engagements, their only other occupations would be nursing the sick and becoming involved in charitable and church-related activities. An editorial in the Kingston Gazette of 1810 provides an example of this ideal of womanhood as it was expressed in Upper Canada. "Women, it has been observed, are not naturally formed for great cares themselves, but to soften ours," its writer observed sagely. "Their tenderness is the proper reward for the dangers we undergo for their preservation; and the ease and cheerfulness of their conversation, our desirable retreat from the fatigues of intense application. They are confined within the narrow limits of domestic assiduity; and when they stray beyond the sphere, are consequently without grace."4 Jane Errington, in a broader survey of early Upper Canadian newspapers, has uncovered a great deal of this type of rhetoric.5 Such rigid standards were imposed partly to distinguish a lady from her lower-class counterparts. When the Reverend John Strachan wished to praise Hannah Cartwright, who had died in her youth, he spoke of her "elegant" figure, her "graceful" movement, and her "uncommon sweetness of temper" as her most appealing characteristics. In addition, what made her "so richly gifted with every requisite to make her lovely," aside from her mild disposition, was "the timid modesty of her countenance," which "showed the ingenuousness of her soul."6 Such an angelic and delicate creature could not possibly survive or thrive in the public world of government or business. Unless she indulged in teaching well-bred young ladies some refining accomplishments, her proper place was in the home, protected and secure. The reality of such a woman's life was seldom as secure as the ideal would suggest. Her protected sphere of activity could also turn from a shelter into a prison, narrowing her life choices to a cramped, small sphere. In early York, this was exacerbated by the relatively small social circle of the upper classes, and their isolation from larger, cosmopolitan centres of culture. Anne Murray Powell's three daughters, Anne, Elizabeth, and Mary, then, grew to maturity in a society that offered them a very narrow range of life choices. To her unceasing regret, she had been unable to provide them, as she later did her granddaughters, with an education that would have enabled them to support themselves by teaching. Her efforts to compensate for this by sending them for a few months to her brother's home at New York and by encourag-

iga Transmission of Female Gender Roles

ing them to visit nearby friends and relatives gave them some social exposure and amusement, but little else. As members of the tiny Upper Canadian elite, they had a very small available pool of eligible marriage partners from which to choose. In fact, only one of Anne's three daughters, Mary, fulfilled her prescribed female destiny, following in her mother's footsteps by marrying and giving birth to ten children. The other two daughters were never to have households of their own but were obliged to stay on in a kind of perpetual childhood as dependents of their parents. The middle daughter, Elizabeth, played the role of aging spinster to perfection. A meek, docile, and gentle person who attracted no suitors, she spent her life in the service of others. She remained with her mother until Anne's death, and was rewarded by a brief period of financial independence until cancer claimed her life six years later in 1855. She and her sister Mary illustrate the range of respectable options open to women of their class and education in early Upper Canada. The eldest daughter, Anne, did not accept either prescribed role with good grace. A spirited, headstrong, and intelligent woman, she refused offers of marriage only to be rejected by the man she did care for. Unable to resign herself to the narrow role decreed to her by the ideology of "True Womanhood," yet prevented by social convention and her own limited financial and educational resources from pursuing any alternative, she grew increasingly angry and frustrated. A tormented life climaxed by a dramatic emotional breakdown was tragically cut short by her premature death in 1822 at the age of thirty-five. In the daughters of Anne Murray Powell, then, we have three "types" of Upper Canadian womanhood: Mary the wife and mother, Elizabeth the self-sacrificing spinster, and Anne the nonconformist, whose inability to transcend the restrictions of her sex and social class reveals the strength of those social sanctions. I WIFE AND MOTHER: MARY BOYLES POWELL J A R V I S Mary was just short of her twenty-seventh birthday on i October 1818 when, by marrying a man she had known from childhood, she, as her mother expressed it, "assumed the certain cares and doubtful comforts of conjugal life."7 Earlier reservations about wedlock, much to her mother's dismay, had prevented her from marrying John Macdonell before his untimely death. These objections were finally overcome by his former friend, Samuel Peters Jarvis. It may have been that Mary simply found Samuel more appealing than John.

igs Limitations of "Woman's Sphere"

But also it may have been that as she approached thirty years of age, Mary realized that there would be fewer opportunities of finding a suitable partner. Whatever combination of reasons may have caused her finally to decide, Samuel was certainly her own choice and the marriage turned out to be successful. Mary's early training had taken place, for the most part, at home, and does not seem to have included many of the female "accomplishments'1 of her day. The gaps in her mother's correspondence make it unclear whether she fulfilled her intention to place her daughter in the Ursuline Convent in Quebec in the summer of 1804 when Mary was twelve years old.8 The visit to New York in the winter of 1805-6 may very well have been the extent of Mary's educational experience. "Mary will I hope lose her warmth & violence," Anne wrote of this maturing youngest daughter, "8c with learning to rely upon the judgement of those who are older & wiser she will be a comfort to us all."9 Mary learned these lessons well, with her mother finding her "conduct ... highly satisfactory" and "exemplary."10 Her ready compliance with her mother's wishes to abstain from participation in social events when the discredited Mrs Small was present must not have been easy for a girl in her late teens, but she missed all the parties and balls apparently without a word of complaint. Yet when she began to receive the unwanted attentions of John Macdonell, the stress of constant obedience began to tell on her. "Mary has been very ill," her mother observed in the spring of 1811. "[She] is yet far from well tho' every one who sees her says she is the very picture of Health. Her complaint affects her appearance only while she suffers, which she sometimes does in the most dreadful manner & as yet we cannot decide from what cause it originates. The inability to digest animal food ... seems to be overcome; but it happens that the diet which seems to agree with her one day will cause agonies the next."11 This mysterious illness may very well have been related to the conflicts Mary felt between her own desires and the necessity of obedience to her mother's wishes. She escaped on visits to Niagara and Queenston for the better part of the next several months, only returning after she had obtained her mother's grudging acceptance of her refusal to marry. The death of her suitor at Queenston Heights ultimately solved her dilemma but left her in a confused and disoriented state. By 1818, Mary, now older and wiser, felt able to take the momentous step of marriage. It was not something for a woman to consider lightly. Her fate would be tied to her husband's with no respectable termination other than death. Although Mary's niece was divorced from her husband after her elopement with John

194 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

Grogan, this was an unprecedented occurrence in Upper Canada, which brought with it the worst kind of public disgrace and social exclusion. A woman of social standing, once married, had no other recourse but to make the best of it. It was imperative, then, that she choose well while she could. Since her fate in life was determined by his success and social position, a young woman would be foolish not to pay serious attention to these attributes of her proposed mate. Samuel Peters Jarvis was certainly of the right social class and he had, through his father's former position as provincial secretary and registrar, connections entitling him to claim some sort of patronage appointment.12 He had distinguished himself in the War of 1812 and, like Mary's father, had legal training, having been called to the bar in 1815. A quarrel resulting in a fatal duel with John Ridout in the summer of 1817 had unfortunately blocked him from succeeding to his father's position. This affair of honour did not appear to concern either Mary or her mother, who dismissed it as "some dissension with a malignant and vile family." Anne was more interested in Samuel's exertion to rid his family of the debt incurred by his "unworthy Father." His "devotion to the comfort of his widowed Mother, and to obtaining] education for his only unmarried sister" was behaviour that augured well for his future conduct as a husband and father. Nor was he likely to adopt the extravagant ways of his father. "Debts he never has and never will incur," noted Mary's mother approvingly. "A lesson has been taught him, by witnessing the misery to which his own family has been exposed by an indulgence of this unhappy propensity."'3 "God grant that their anticipation of happiness and prosperity may be realized," Anne prayed the day after Mary and Samuel's marriage. "In the honor and probity of my Son-in-law I have the most perfect confidence.'"4 Mary herself was in an excellent position to judge the man that she had chosen to marry. As children of members of that small, insular Upper Canadian elite, and only a year apart in age, they would have known each other for most of their lives. Even with this reassuring familiarity, Mary found that marriage took some adjustment. As Ellen Rothman has observed of Mary's American contemporaries, "Conventions and rituals were developed to give women companionship, confidence and courage as they made the transition to marriage."15 One of these was visiting. The day after the ceremony, Samuel and Mary went to Burlington to see his sister and her friend, the wife of George Hamilton, who had just had a baby.'6 After a short stop at their new home, they returned to York and stayed with Mary's parents for three weeks. It was not until five

195 Limitations of "Woman's Sphere" weeks after the marriage that the pair moved to Queenston, where Samuel hoped for success in his law practice. However, three months later, they returned to York for another extended visit. "Mary and her beloved have been with us the last three weeks," Anne was happy to report in mid-March.17 Nor was the young couple alone at Queenston Heights, where Mary had the female companionship of her mother-in-law and Samuel's unmarried sister.'8 When, little more than eleven months after her marriage, she gave birth to her first child, Mary was surrounded by even more female support. Her sister Eliza moved in two months before the baby was due, followed by her mother not long after.'9 Mary must have been glad to have this circle of concerned and experienced women there to assist and nurse her through her first difficult confinement. She "bears this disappointment of her hopes," Anne wrote after her child was tragically stillborn, "with that piety which marks her character."20 Anne praised her son-in-law's behaviour and concern for his ailing wife, and did not see it as in any way neglectful of him to leave her to recover at her parents' home at York under the care of "my excellent Eliza, who watches every change of countenance, and indulges every wish, with the truest fraternal solicitude."21 Mary was well enough to return home the next month, when she immediately became pregnant for the second time. In the first year of Mary's marriage, it is unlikely that she spent more than a few weeks at a time together with Samuel in their home, and even then she was surrounded by her own and his female relatives. This close contact with other women served as a means of easing her transition to married life. It also maintained the importance and primacy of the female world that she had inhabited all of her life and the strength of those same-sex relationships. Samuel Peters Jarvis saw nothing strange in this; in fact as a kind and considerate husband he did all he could to facilitate such contact, welcoming her mother and sisters at all times, escorting them to his home, and encouraging Mary to visit them. And, until the extent of her family responsibilities seriously limited her mobility, Mary was a frequent visitor to her mother's home. By March of 1820, despite Mary's second pregnancy, Anne was relieved to report that "Mary is more recovered than I ever expected."22 The following August, Mary's imminent confinement brought the Powell and Jarvis women together again at Queenston to see her through this second ordeal. This time her labour was shorter and the outcome successful, resulting in a boy named Samuel Peters after his father. Breast-feeding probably aided in

ig6 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

preventing Mary from conceiving again for almost eight months.23 In December of 1821, she successfully gave birth to another son, William Dummer Powell Jarvis. This time a family crisis prevented her mother and oldest sister Anne from being with her, but Eliza was at her side. Mary and her two boys returned with her to York in April and again in June.84 Such visits were growing increasingly difficult and Mary found her social life diminishing as her fa ly grew. "I was asked if it would be possible for you to come over to the Ball," Samuel wrote to her from York in November of 1823. "I could not help laughing to myself at the idea of crossing the water at this time of year with two children, and half a third, for about four hours amusement; and therefore gave a very unequivocal negative to the intended compliment."25 Evidently Mary's dancing days were now well behind her. She duly gave birth to a third boy, George Murray, in April 1824, attended again by her faithful sister Elizabeth. Mary must have been relieved and grateful when, a few months later, Samuel moved the family to York. Her mother was certainly delighted to be able to see her daughter and grandsons on a more regular basis. Anne was even more pleased when, a year later on 30 October 1825, Mary delivered a little girl, Anne Ellen. The following spring brought with it a division in the female part of the family: Anne and her daughter Eliza emigrated with William to England. It was difficult for Mary to part with these sources of female support. Anne attempted to compensate for this loss by leaving her granddaughters Mary and Anne behind. "Indeed severe as must be the trial to me" of parting with her granddaughter, Anne explained, "it will in some degree be alleviated, by knowing that their Aunt Mary will receive consolation in their society and assistance."26 With four young children to care for, Mary was indeed in need of domestic support. "I have not been very well during the last week and am very much pressed with work," she had written that spring.27 She was glad to have her nieces with her to assist in running her household. "The Girls are quite well and appear very happy," she reported. "They make themselves quite as useful as I will allow them to and are unaffectedly fond of the children. Anne makes an excellent nurse and Mary always has the Boys about her."28 Even with this assistance, Mary found herself constantly occupied with domestic labour, often only finding time to write to her mother and sister late at night, "far past the dark and silent hour, when night and Morning meet." "Every Soul in the house myself excepted have long been sound asleep," she related on one such occasion.29 "I am afraid you will find it difficult to make out all

197 Limitations of "Woman's Sphere"

I have written as I have been repeatedly interrupted," she wrote at another time, "and having been up late last night and early this Mor[nin]g I feel stupid with Sleep. It is now near twelve."30 As she explained to her mother, "it may appear absurd to give want of time as an excuse for not writing, but with me it is really the case that I seldom have one moment, or rather hour, that I can command from the time I get up in the Morn[in]g until after the children are in bed, when I generally feel unfit for any exertion and most of all to that of writing." Her constant preoccupation with domestic matters was depressing for Mary. "I am afraid the girls now regret the decision to remain in Canada," she lamented. "At least, I feel that were I in their place I should wish my self with you and Eliza in good old England."3' Adding to Mary's depression was the prospect of yet another childbirth, her sixth confinement. On 13 April 1827, Mary gave birth to her second daughter, Emily Elizabeth. She was nursed by her brother Grant's wife as well as her two nieces and was happy to report that she "had plenty of milk and required no assistance in taking care of her. As for myself I never needed any attendance night or day and have been up ever since the fifth day. I won't say that I did not miss Eliza," she conceded, "but I got on better than I could have expected." Running a household was a labour-intensive occupation requiring a great deal of organization and with a fifth child extra help was needed. "I am lucky in having a good trusty Girl in the kitchen and a very tolerable one as House-Maid," Mary explained to her mother, "and Mary Walton came to me for a month on purpose to take charge of George and Ellen. ... Mary Powell took charge of the elder Boys and of the House."32 Even with this temporary extra help, the stress eventually proved too much for the new mother. "I was sadly harassed with work," she explained, and the results were predictable. "I have been very sick, and tho' better by no means restored to my former strength indeed I fear it will be some time before I am. My illness was caused I believe by want of rest and too much fatigue before I had quite recovered from my confinement, for tho' I am very fortunate in having good servants and [now] three of them, our doing the washing and sewing at home keeps me constantly employed indeed gives me more than I can get thro' which is the worst part of it as it fatigues my mind as well as my body." Mary was for a time unable to nurse and "was obliged to get a wet nurse for the baby for three or four nights." She herself was in bed for a week, and at times "we were all sick together" in the Jarvis household. "I thought if you and Eliza could have taken a peep at us you would have wished

198 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

yourselves in Canada," she wrote sadly. "Often and often did I wish for you both."33 Grant's wife Elizabeth and Samuel's cousin Elizabeth Jarvis helped as much as they could, but running the household and caring for five children under the age of seven was a task that appeared at times overwhelming to Mary. "Poor little thing she has always seemed like a supernumerary," Mary wrote of the infant Emily. "How happy I should be to think she was the last, for my nursery now affords full occupation for two people and I am sure one is more than I can afford." Even had she been able to afford a great deal more assistance, the trouble of managing hired help was often itself a formidable task. "It is one of the greatest comforts of your present manner of living," she wrote to her mother at the Vicarage of Tolpuddle, "that you are relieved from the plague of servants." It seemed to Mary that the good ones rarely stayed for long. Dolly Linsey, Mary's cook, "an excellent servant and a very good girl," contributed to the household disorder by giving notice. "She is like the rest of her foolish sex," commented her harassed mistress, "going to be married, for the sake of an easy Life I suppose."34 At this hectic and pressured point of her married life, Mary wondered why any woman would ever voluntarily take on family responsibilities. When Elizabeth Jarvis announced that she intended to marry Dr Phillips, a widower with several children, Mary was aghast. "I think she is a great fool," she asserted. "I hope that she will not repent her choice, were I her I would rather work for a living."35 Mary may not have regarded her role as wife, household manager, and mother as "work," but it certainly involved incessant toil. Her desire to limit her family was not realized, however, and less than a year after Emily's birth she was again pregnant. The prospect of having yet another child was very depressing to Mary, and the approach of her niece Mary's wedding to William Botsford Jarvis seemed to be more of a chore than a welcome celebration. She was anxious to have it over with before the birth, "otherwise the bustle will take place just at the time most inconvenient to me, besides life is uncertain," she wrote, morbidly conjuring up images of her own death. "I confess that it would be a great satisfaction to me to know that she, (and in case of accidents, her sister) had a home of her own ... and tho' I have no reason to look forward to my approaching confinement with more than usual apprehension, life, as I said before, is uncertain, and nothing should be put off 'till tomorrow that can properly be done to day." Mary, it would seem, was desperately tired as well as depressed. "I am not as strong as I

199 Limitations of "Woman's Sphere"

have been," she wrote, "and am often nervous and low spirited and I do dread the bustle and fatigue."36 Fortunately, Mary's worst fears were not realized, and she successfully gave birth to a boy, Charles Edward, on 25 October 1828, shortly after her tenth wedding anniversary. As she put it, she was "certainly most vulgarly strong," but her spirits continued to be low. "He is very cross," she wrote of the infant. "I look forward to anything but a pleasant winter. Heaven grant that he may be the last, for I am completely tired of the constant worry in which I live. It was bad enough while Eliza was within reach, but now that I have no one to look to for assistance in the care of them I find it is still worse. ... I have not been asleep before two o'clock any night for the last ten."37 "I know it is wrong to allow so long a time to elapse without someone writing," Mary apologized to her mother a few months later. "But for myself I must say that days and weeks pass in such incessant occupation and I may say distraction that I am often astonished at the flight of time."38 Mary was obviously relieved by the return of Eliza and her mother in the spring of 1829. Their support was especially welcome that fall, when Mary simultaneously learned that she was pregnant yet again and lost her little boy to illness at the age of eleven months. This double blow, Anne realized, could seriously damage her daughter's health. Eliza quickly moved to be at her sister's side, and Anne made arrangements to send Mary on a visit to New York, prying the money for the trip "so inconvenient to him to afford" from the ever-reluctant William. "The conviction that the health and spirits of our Daughter would be renovated by such an excursion, induced him to provide what was necessary to accomplish it," Anne explained to George. "Poor Mary's wedded life has been one of fatigue and care. ... The death of her beautiful Boy gave a shock to her spirits, only to be completely removed by the change of air and scene. ... I anticipate the pleasure of seeing her in a few weeks return like herself."39 This vacation and the stalwart aid of her sister evidently did help Mary greatly. The following April of 1830, she gave birth to a little girl, her eighth child, Charlotte Augusta, and when Anne visited her three days later she "found the Lady in Straw, sitting up in her bed, with a countenance as bright and blooming as at 25, and heard she had taken a Buck Wheat cake for Breakfast. Her excellent sister remains with her, and takes charge of the young ones."40 Mary's fertility continued to give her no respite, however, and her ninth pregnancy produced another girl, Mary Caroline, on 27 March 1832. Her family, Anne related, was "certainly as fine a one as the

2oo Transmission of Female Gender Roles

Colony produces."41 Finally, at forty-two years of age, Mary gave birth to a boy, Charles Frederick, on 11 June 1834, for the tenth and last time in less than sixteen years of marriage. Menopause must have come as a great relief to her. "Mary Jarvis has recovered her looks," her mother was able to report two years later, "and I trust will have no more drawbacks."42 Fortunately, Mary, like her mother, was to recover from the stresses of childbirth to live to the great old age of ninety-three. Mary's fertility not only made her life more laborious but also added the extra stress of diminishing resources. Samuel's law practice could barely keep up with the needs of his growing family. When William travelled to England to sort out his pension, he did his best to provide something for his son-in-law as well. "I feel very grateful to Papa for the warm interest that he takes in our welfare," Mary assured her mother, "and most truly hope that he may succeed in his endeavour to provide something for Sam - few people need it more, as far as I am concerned I never desire affluence tho' I do long for competence for this constant anxiety to make the most of every Shilling is badly debasing to the Mind, and if we find it too hard to adapt our expenses to our Means, what will it be as our family increases in age and number unless our means increase also."43 "I think that indifference to the vanities of life is to be desired even by those who are quite at liberty to indulge in them," Mary stressed. "I speak from experience, for I have escaped many mortifications by not over rating the value of fine cloths, in which I certainly never could have indulged without self reproach, or at least meriting censure."44 This was indeed making a virtue out of necessity. "I wish Mr Jarvis's means enlarged in proportion to the demands upon them," her mother commented.45 William had been successful in obtaining the patronage position of deputy provincial secretary and registrar for his son-in-law in 1827, despite Samuel's ill-judged participation the year before in the raid on the offices of the reformer William Lyon Mackenzie's Colonial Advocate. Although he was very active in the defence of the province during the Upper Canadian Rebellion, Samuel was not rewarded by succeeding to his father's old post of secretary but was instead made chief superintendent of Indian affairs.46 He petitioned unsuccessfully to LieutenantGovernor Sir George Arthur for his father's former position, reminding him "That he has a Family of Eight Children, that he has had to struggle with great difficulties in educating and supporting them, and that he earnestly hopes that your Excellency will upon this occasion kindly intercede ... as the difference in the income will enable your Memorialist to support his large Family."47 Yet Samuel

2Oi Limitations of "Woman's Sphere"

and Mary, despite their financial troubles, were able to maintain their social position and hire servants. Nor was he a man who was tight with money. Compared to her mother, who feared every penny she spent, Mary was quite free with her husband's resources. On one occasion she had to confess that she had spent £25 in gold that he had left at home. Although she admitted extreme "regret having done [so] without first consulting you, which I ought and should have done," Mary joked that she felt "very like the man who when his wife came to tell him that she had won a prize in the lottery was under the very disagreeable necessity of telling her that he had sold her ticket." In any case she felt justified in paying bills with the money because she had "thought you had forgotten it."48 Clearly she had no great fear of reprisal from her husband. Samuel's generosity was shown in other ways, too, such as when he welcomed his two nieces into his household in 1826. "Altho' Mr Jarvis with his wonted liberality laughs at the mention of board yet no less than £50 can suffice for that purpose," wrote Anne, who feared that she would be placing an unreasonable financial burden on him. "Indeed I fear his means are very inadequate to the support of his family which is increasing."49 Samuel's warmth of disposition, which sometimes got him into trouble, endeared him to his in-laws. He, rather than William's own sons, was entrusted with the administration of his father-in-law's property during the latter's retirement to England. In contrast to the occasional stiff and dutiful letter that Mary wrote to her father, Samuel corresponded with him on easy terms of familiarity, filling his letters with local news and political gossip.50 "To the unwearied kindness of Mr Jarvis who is indeed a Son," wrote his mother-inlaw, "we are indebted for every article of information beyond what is given by my dear female correspondents,"5' A few years later, when she was devastated by the death of her husband, Anne found Samuel's behaviour to be exemplary. "Mr Jarvis's attention to indulge every wish and overcome all difficulties is beyond all praise," she said to George. "He is as unsparing of his own labor, as he is assiduous to shew respect to the Friend he has lost." He was indeed "a most excellent son-in-law."52 Especially after the death of Grant, Anne relied on "his frequent visits and cheerful conversation" which were "always a source of amusement."53 Samuel and Mary's close ties to her parents were accentuated by her special bond with her mother. In many respects, Mary was the child who most followed in Anne's footsteps. Not only did she marry well and have a large family, she also adopted much of Anne's outlook on the world. We hear an uncanny echo of her

2O2 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

mother when Mary wrote to her in 1828 about some flattering attention from Lieutenant-Governor Sir Peregrine and his wife Lady Sarah Maitland. It was, she related, "civility that tells well with others if not with me, for I may say without vanity that it is not every one who is as indifferent to the smiles of the great as I am. Still," she continued, "dear kind Lady Sarah['s] ... notice I do feel an honor as it always springs from kindness."54 Mary's "rigid adherence to propriety" was heartily approved of by her mother. As a bride, Mary was shocked to discover upon her arrival at Queenston that her brother William's widow, Sarah, was behaving in a most inappropriate manner. It was, Anne assured George, "behaviour of a description not to be tolerated even by youth and inexperience," which made her "universally ridiculed." Evidently Sarah, herself the mother of teenaged daughters, had "professed herself violently in love" with a young man of seventeen. "Her solicitations for him to become her Husband were incessant and as you may imagine unavailing. He told her she was old enough to be his Mother; that the proposition for one of her Daughters might have been successful, but for herself she was a fool and he hated her." Mary felt that she had a responsibility to put a stop to this for the sake of the reputations of her nieces. "Her conduct was finally so improper," Anne wrote of Sarah, "that Mary thought it right to speak to her with firmness and candor; and after representing to her the folly of her conduct on her own account, besought her to consider the irreparable injury it would entail upon her promising and interesting Children. She was somewhat affected and solemnly declared that imprudence was all of which she had been guilty, and promised to leave the place and be more prudent in future, if Mary would not inform me of what had passed." Mary agreed to this on the one harsh condition that, "her silence to me might be secured by her relinquishing all expectation and avoiding all intimation of a wish to be admitted as even a visitor to us, after the return of her Daughters." Anne pointed out that "all these circumstances and this arrangement I have heard thro' Eliza, for Mary has not spoken to me of it."55 Mary, it would appear, had thoroughly adopted her mother's views on correct female behaviour and the necessity of severely censuring any deviation from propriety. Even in grief Anne found much to praise in her daughter. In the spring of 1841, Mary lost her eleven-year-old daughter Charlotte Augusta. "Poor Mary has not yet overcome her heavy loss," Anne wrote, "but she sorrows with pious resignation, tho grief is written on her once cheerful countenance. The dear Augusta was truly the flower of her flock

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and most devotedly attached to her mother."56 When a few months later Anne's granddaughter Anne lost a child, she was disapproving of her total surrender to grief. In contrast, "her Aunt Mary did not grieve without hope, and never suffered her most acute sorrow to interfere with the performance of duty to her remaining family."57 It was with her family that Mary's sense of duty and propriety was most influential. Unlike her mother, who would never have presumed to censure her husband, Mary felt justified in serving as moral arbiter of Samuel's behaviour. On one occasion, after visiting Mrs Widmer, a woman who he had felt behaved suggestively, Samuel felt so guilty he was compelled to confess it to Mary. Mr Widmer was out when he called and his wife received him, as he said, "most cordially ... dressed more fantastically than ever. ... She told me she had frequently made enquiries about me, and [that] I was universally pronounced a very happy man, that I conducted myself with the greatest propriety, and never gave uneasiness by straying from home, in search of what I had no business with, as her lord and master did. ... To tell you the truth, I was afraid, ugly as she is, to lead her on too far, as you may imagine knowing my strict principles of morality when I describe to you her dress." Samuel's fascination with Mrs Widmer's clothes leaves us wondering how indifferent he in fact was. "Whenever she would jump up," he wrote, "and throw one leg over the other, the lightness of the Cambrick caused it to expand, and as she sat between me and the window she might almost as well have been naked. I at last began to feel uncomfortable, lest Widmer come home."58 So conscious was Samuel of his wife's view of such behaviour that one would think he was relating an assignation rather than a simple social call. He went on further to describe Mrs Widmer's dress in great detail, which suggests that his preoccupation with the visit revealed more guilty attraction than revulsion. Certainly Mary did not hesitate to take her husband to task when she felt that his behaviour warranted censure. When Mary's niece Elizabeth ran off with John Grogan, Mary shared her mother's total condemnation of such behaviour. She was shocked, then, to learn that when Samuel was in Kingston on government business he had called on the couple. "Although we agree in our condemnation of ... [such] conduct, we do not upon the manner in which that condemnation should be manifested," Mary admonished her husband. "I never felt more deeply mortified than I did at hearing that you paid a friendly visit to Mr and Mrs Grogan. By the first I felt myself cruelly insulted, and by the last I think your daughters were injured and the influence of your opinion on points of propriety over them greatly lessened."39 Mary's

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assumption and Samuel's acceptance of her moral authority is in keeping with the values of the "True Womanhood" which made wives the guardians of purity and morality in the private sphere. Another way that Mary and Samuel were different from her parents was in the way that they related to each other as husband and wife. Anne never referred to William by his first name, even to her brother George, but always as "Mr Powell." Even when writing to him she called him "husband" or "friend," never "William." The style of her letters to him was always correct and formal. Mary, in contrast, addressed her husband as "Sam" and her letters to him had an easy and familiar tone. Samuel was also closely involved in the raising of his children in a way that William never had been, discussing their behaviour with his wife and frequently deferring to her judgment, particularly on matters of propriety. "I think you were right in not allowing Ellen to go to the picnic under the circumstances you mention," he wrote when their daughter was seventeen. "Nor do I think she should be permitted to go to such places unless under the protection of some elderly person who will look after her; as for the boys I imagine they will think too much of their own pleasure to be much protection to their sister."60 This restriction did not sit well with their daughter. "I am sorry to hear Ellen is so self willed," Samuel commented. "I quite agree with you that it is better that she should remain as much at home as possible for the present."6' Their daughter Emily also chafed under the restrictions imposed on her. "I regret exceedingly to hear such an account of Emily. It is one of the inevitable consequences of our indulgence, the evils of which are never discerned until too late. I shall write her as you desire it," Samuel promised his wife.62 Yet his role as a father was not limited to being the disciplinary arm of his wife's ruling authority. He was very much the new kind of more sympathetic, involved, and egalitarian father. "Tell the children I have received all their letters," he wrote home affectionately, "and shall answer them the first leisure I can command, and that I am much pleased."63 Although he was annoyed with Ellen's behaviour, he indulged her by sending home from New York "some Bugles, which have become fashionable again for ornamenting ladies dresses."64 And when he learned that she and her brother Charles had been attacked by scarlet fever, his anxiety was great. "I hope Ellen will be governed by your advice and keep her room if not her bed until the disease moderates," he urged; "do not omit sending me a line every day - I wish it was possible for me to be with you and assist in the necessary attendance upon the invalids."65 In this intimate involvement with his wife in the welfare of his children,

205 Limitations of "Woman's Sphere"

especially the daughters, and in his recognition of her moral authority as mother, Samuel played a very different role from the men of his parent's generation. Deferring to her judgment on domestic matters, he saw Mary more as a partner with responsibility for the domestic sphere while he was absent in the world of public affairs.66 One final and particularly striking contrast to the behaviour of his father-in-law was Samuel's attitude to female education. Unlike William, Samuel needed no convincing of its importance and value. "In none of your letters latterly received or in those from the boys, are the names of either of the elder girls mentioned," he complained in one letter. "How do they pass the time? I hope Ellen has not fallen into the fashionable but odious habit of being constantly in the streets and running in and out of shops."6' When the children were all still very young, and despite their financial difficulties, Samuel approved of Mary's hiring of a governess for part of each day to teach the elder girls, then aged five to ten.68 "The three little Girls are very steady in the school room, and will I trust repay the trouble and expence incurred for their benefit," their grandmother commented approvingly.69 Nor was this education confined to learning the basics of reading and writing. Eight years later, Samuel was still very much concerned with their educational improvement, and that they would be genteel young ladies with appropriate "accomplishments." He wrote to Mary on this subject when Ellen, Emily, and Caroline were aged seventeen, fifteen, and eleven. Even though he felt that he must "adhere to the most rigid economy in everything," he still urged Mary to proceed with Emily's education. "With respect to Emily," he advised, "I think myself that it would be a good plan to have a private governess for her if such a person could be found who would tend for a few hours a day, and whose terms would not be so very extravagant. ... If I were out of debt I should feel comfortable, and would not hesitate in employing a person at any expense to finish her education." Education for his daughters was a very high priority for Samuel. "I do not understand what you mean by Caroline being obliged after this quarter to leave her present school," he asked Mary with great concern. "Is Miss Gordon to give it up? I really do not care how you arrange about her as long as she is kept at school, but it will not do to let her spend so much time as formerly romping about the grounds." Even music lessons were considered to be essential for Emily and her sisters. "I am glad she has been giving her attention to music again," Samuel wrote. "Ellen's intimacy in that respect with Miss Hagerman will be very beneficial, for I really think her the best private performer in Toronto."7"

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In Mary's concern for her daughters and in her stress on social propriety, we see the strong influence of her mother. Despite her more familiar and companionate relationship with her "Sam," she functioned like her mother within a primarily female world. Her experience of life, with the peril of constant childbearing and the incessant toil of managing a large household, was in many respects identical to her mother's. In this occupation, the assistance and expertise of her female relatives were invaluable to Mary. Even for a happily married wife, the support of other women was crucial in coping with the vicissitudes of life in the private, domestic sphere. II "UNNATURAL" DAUGHTER: A N N E MURRAY POWELL Although Anne rejoiced when her daughter and namesake was born in 1787, this was a child that was to bring her great grief. The story of this daughter's life is not an easy one to tell: it is a tale of waste and tragedy. She was a young woman with real strength of character and intelligence. In her younger years, she was considered a beauty and was a gifted and sensitive nurse. Never marrying, she was unable to find sufficient scope for her talents within the narrow sphere of the York elite. At the end of her short life, she was a frustrated, bitter woman, warped in personality, who suffered what must have been a complete nervous breakdown. Her defiance of all the rules of propriety would have made her an outcast, exiled from society and her family, had death not intervened. She has been remembered unjustly and inaccurately as a woman who spent the better part of her adult years in obsessive pursuit of John Beverley Robinson. Reducing her distress to the consequences of her failure to attract a man trivializes and distorts her life, which stands as a sad testament to the consequences of violating strict social norms. When she was growing up, young Anne's behaviour gave no hint of the problems she was to have later. With her sisters Mary and Eliza, she was educated at home and lacked the accomplishments and social polish that her mother would have liked her to have. Like them, too, she suffered a restricted life-style, pinching pennies and making over dresses for balls that they frequently were prevented from attending. The frugality of their existence was made even worse after the addition of their nieces Mary and Anne to the Powell household. Despite these restrictions, Anne had an active social life. Hannah Jarvis described her as being "The Belle of York" just before her

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nineteenth birthday.7' A year later her mother reported that she "had the satisfaction of seeing my Daughter pleased & pleasing every one" at recent social gatherings.78 "It is so much the fashion to admire Anne," she related when her daughter was twenty, "I fear her head will be bewildered." Yet none of the young men in their small social circle suited her. "I hope she will consider that tho' I wish not to urge her making a choice," wrote the elder Anne, "It would be a comfort to me, that she made a prudent & happy one."73 But her daughter was not interested in marriage at this time of her life. From 1807 to 1810 when she was in her early twenties, Anne was frequently away from home, visiting at her married brother John's home and enjoying the social life at Niagara, assisting as a nurse during the confinement of a family friend, Mrs Dickson, at Newark, and visiting her friend Mary Cartwright at Kingston.74 During the entire winter of 1809-10, she lived at her brother's home. "The limited situation of our house," explained her mother, "prevents my opposition to a proposal, which will I hope be productive of comfort to herself & of use to the family to which she goes."75 The following fall she again left home, this time for an extended visit to her Uncle George's home in New York. Her mother was pleased with Anne's opportunity to expose herself to a wider social circle, yet anxious that her daughter behave well while she was away from home. "I hope that the propriety of her conduct & her endeavour to render herself useful & companionable will prove her not unworthy nor insensible of your goodness," she wrote.76 When she heard that George had fallen ill, she anxiously hoped that "Anne will be an able assistant to my Dear Sister, and take her part in the affectionate attendance you will long require. I have ever found her a good nurse, & it would grieve me to know she could neglect any opportunity of evincing her dutiful attachment, where she owes so much."77 The following May, after eight months in New York, Anne returned home. Her mother was delighted that she was to travel by way of Montreal in the company of Isaac Winslow Clark, the widower of William's sister Nancy. This was a "visit I have long desired she should be enabled to make," which would introduce her "to very partial Friends" whom Anne and William had made during their residence there in the 17805, and "whose regard it is my earnest hope she will be inclined to cultivate." Perhaps Anne might even find a man there more suited to her tastes than the limited choices available at York. "I should think it fortunate," her mother wrote hopefully, "should she fix for life with some deserving object, who has enough of this world's

ao8 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

goods, to secure her happiness & competence."78 This dream was not fulfilled and the twenty-four-year-old Anne returned home that midsummer of 1811. It was only a short while after her return to York that Anne became ill with a mysterious sickness. She had suffered from serious colds in the previous winters, but this time she fell victim to "a violent Rheumatism in her Head."79 Her mother was at a loss to explain the cause of it, and it may have been a nervous disorder. "It seems to yield to no remedy; Blisters have been applied & they scarcely have any effect. It is lamentable that this place affords no medical skill that I can depend upon as superior to my own judgement," wrote her puzzled mother. "The complaint has changed her appearance more than you can suppose. Indeed it can not be otherwise, for she dares not touch either wine or animal food; & has very little sleep, the pain increasing with the decline of the sun."8° Perhaps Anne found it difficult to adjust to the restrictions of home after her long time away at New York and Montreal. In any case, by the new year her mother was happy to report that "Anne is wonderfully well. She has been enabled to partake in all the amusements which have been unusually frequent this winter."8' At home, she found some scope for her talents in the education of her nieces. "Anne's indefatigable attention, is a benefit to herself as well as her Nieces," her mother wrote approvingly. "For she acquires knowledge in her determination to impart it. She is quite well and in very good spirits."8" It was around this time, and a possible cause for the renovation of Anne's spirits, that she developed a friendship with John Beverley Robinson. The aspiring young lawyer, four years her junior, was a prot£g6 of William's and through his influence was made acting attorney-general after the death of John Macdonell and, later, solicitor-general.83 During the War of 1812 he served as an ensign and was fond of playing the gallant. One story has him reading poetry to the ladies while they sewed the standard for the Third Regiment of York.84 It is not clear just what, if anything, passed between Anne and John, but it may not have been coincidental that around the same time that he applied for leave to study law in England in the spring of 1815, she was pressuring her parents for permission to visit her British relatives. Evidently William's sister had suggested that one of her nieces visit her, which, her mother explained, "has tempted Anne to talk of a voyage to England; but it is impossible to determine if she will pursue or relinquish the present plan. As I have no wish but for her happiness, and she is of an age to judge what is most likely to promote it, I take no other

aog Limitations of "Woman's Sphere" part, than to smooth any difficulties that may be suggested by her Father."85 Certainly Anne's parents had no suspicion that she was chasing after young Robinson, although her father treated her plans with disdain. It was all very well for the boys to visit England to be educated, but a daughter should leave home only as a bride. "Your niece Anne is desirous to avail herself of a slight invitation from my Sister to cross the atlantic and seperate herself from her family, without the usual Excuse," he wrote sarcastically to his brother-inlaw George. "I smile at the Ingenuity with which the Sex can devise reasons for the gratification of any whim and in the present Instance can only regret that her mothers sound Judgement should be warped by such arguments as I find, by yours, have been used to justify this emigration. I have however so far submitted as to promise my C [on] sent should my affairs engage me to make a last visit to England."86 Despite her father's mockery of her plans, Anne was determined to go to England. His application for leave from the Upper Canadian government was rejected, however, much to her dismay. "Really my whole summer has been thrown away in preparing and expecting to undertake this journey," she complained to her Uncle George, "and since both Papa and Mamma perfectly approve of my accepting my Aunt's invitation (indeed Mamma wishes it) I feel very anxious to do so immediately. ... You may believe no trifling consideration induced me to determine on this step therefore it's natural I should feel a good deal disappointed by such a delay."87 Anne may have been over-optimistic about her parents' approval of her plans, but she was eventually to have her way when William travelled to England the following spring of 1816. In the meantime, she cultivated the friendship of John's sister, the wife of D'Arcy Boulton, assisting her in childbirth.88 Whether or not John was her main motivation for travelling to England, it is clear that young Anne was also escaping a tense situation at home. "I do most truly hope that all your expectations of happiness will be indulged," her mother wrote to her shortly after her departure with her father, "and that you may never regret the seperation from your natural Friends. Absence will perhaps lead you to appreciate justly the interest they have invariably felt for your comfort; and convince you upon proper reflection that whatever harshness you may have though injurious to you, has been the consequence of an apparent alienation, very difficult to support with calmness and indifference."89 Although there is evidence of tension between Anne and her mother, in her father's eyes it seemed that she could do nothing

21 o Transmission of Female Gender Roles

right. He complained about her expenditures in New York, saying they would "leave me barely the means of clearance from this sink of Extravagance."90 He accused her of "Vanity" and of affecting "Singularity" in her dress. Writing just before they were to embark with George's son John, he related that "Whilst in N York she paraded the Streets in a green Shift ... & would have passed for a Market Girl just alighted from her cart. On board she displays a black Silk robe, rich Beaver Hat with feathers & a valuable lace Veil with a treble Rough exceeding in dimensions anything ever worn by Eliza or Mary. ... I have no recourse but avoidance, & it is therefore highly fortunate that John is on board with her." Evidently William had little use for the fashionable follies of youth. "I can form no estimate of your Daughter & Nephew," he grumbled to his wife, "who seem to think the whole world made for their Caprice."9' Once in England, he reported that she had been out calling on friends and relatives, "Be. I am almost afraid to enquire the impression from her preposterous exhibition of dress - a Head for the opera & coarse calf skin Shoes covered with Dart which she had found in a three hours ramble with her cousins in Hyde Park.'"'" Anne resented her father's stinginess and it is possible that she deliberately dressed daringly to irritate him. She also annoyed him by her interference in the arrangements that had been made for her niece Mary's education when they were in New York. Up to this point, Anne had been the major source of education for her nieces. "They are great awkward girls (that every body can see) neither of them without bad habits but such only as I hope time will conquer," she explained to her Uncle George. "Their minds are by no means uncultivated and could they devote three or four years to acquiring those accomplishments which tho they are said rather to dorn the person yet, in my opinion, assist greatly in softening an forming the character of a female, I doubt not but they would be girls no family need be ashamed of." Such a desirable result, she concluded caustically, would "amply repay their grandfather for all the expense of their education which has hitherto cost him nothing."93 So strongly did Anne feel about her father's reluctance to finance female education that she took measures to counteract it. While she was in New York, she gave directions to expand Mary's instruction to such specialized areas as the learning of Italian. Her mother felt this was "unaccountable interference" and "a most extraordinary proceeding" which would have Mary "procure useless accomplishments."9'1 "Anne is sometimes inconsiderate in her opinions; and forgets that Money is necessary to obtain even a tolerable education," she complained to George. "She knows that the sum stated

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for the support of her niece cannot be increased without inconvenience."95 Anne's intervention in her niece's education was but one of the many sources of conflict between her and her parents. It is clear then, that although Anne may have been pursuing John Beverley Robinson, she was also leaving a family situation which was permeated with conflict and tension. If Anne had hoped that her presence in London would encourage John's attentions, she was to be sadly disappointed. In the year since he had left York, he had met and proposed marriage to a young Englishwoman, Emma Walker. Yet when Anne arrived in England, he did not immediately make it clear that he was involved with someone else. His continued correspondence and meetings with Anne exasperated Emma, who felt acutely that "instead of eight years, I have only an eight month's acquaintance." She wrote tartly to John: I can scarcely expect you this morning, for the interesting engagement you have with your fair correspondent must occupy much of your leisure. It is rather an arduous undertaking for you, and will require penetration to discover her meaning and nice consideration politely to tell her yours. You assure me of her sense, and it requires all of your assurance for me to credit it - at all events this is another instance of it not availing us much when most needed. From my heart I pity her, but however painful may have been her feelings, and I am sure so she has found them, would not wisdom have displayed itself lately, in a greater concealment of them? - and thus prevented the employment now forced upon you. In justification of this last step, what can be said - how far she may be deserving of censure for having first given encouragement to her unfortunate feelings, your own conscience can most truly tell you.96

"My heart you are secure of - it can never fail you," John assured Emma. "I never knew till now how much it could feel for a newer Acquaintance. ... I have a thousand things to say to you, and some lamentable anecdotes of a certain young lady of your acquaintance in whose sad fate you sympathize."97 Despite these assurances, John still did not make a clean break with Anne. Emma wrote reprovingly that "You know your partiality for corresponding with other young women besides myself. I fear you will not in this respect find me either less solicitous or impatient than the one I allude to" "In this way I cannot help resembling her," complained Emma a month later. "But notwithstanding all the love she bears for one so dear to me, I do not feel sufficiently grateful to desire the similarity to be carried beyond the point I have stated. ... I shall

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ever disregard her power - though I could desire it should not be exerted."9 These quotations, taken from three letters among the many written between John and Emma, have been used to suggest that Anne threw herself at the object of her affection and behaved "improperly."99 Yet there is some indication that John may have encouraged her to think that he reciprocated her interest. Certainly John Strachan was surprised to hear of his former pupil's engagement and he wrote to him sternly about "some particulars which require explanation. I want to ascertain whether you were under engagements, directly or indirectly to Miss P. Whether that family had reasons to entertain hopes of such a connexion, or whether, entertaining hopes, care was taken to undeceive them?" It was clear that John was anxious to avoid alienating Anne's father, who was a very useful political contact to have in one's corner. "It is said that you did not communicate your intended change of life to Mr Justice Powell till the evening before the day that he left London," Strachan pointed out. "By delaying the communication till the Judge was quitting London (if he laboured under any delusion) was to make all the use of him you could (opponents might say), and when no more advantage could be derived from him, you condescended to undeceive him. ... One thing is certain, by every account the young Lady was distracted after you; and though such a match did not appear eligible, yet the frequency of her visits to your sister [Mrs Boulton], and the uncommon, I might say Burthensome, attentions of the whole family to your sister indicate some sort of expectation which to me requires some explanation fully to comprehend."100 Obviously both Emma Walker and John Strachan felt that John could have been more open and honest about the true nature of his feelings for Anne. Strachan may have exaggerated the "expectations" the Powells supposedly felt concerning John and Anne. Nothing of the sort was ever mentioned in family correspondence and the "burthensome" attentions to Mrs Boulton were continued after John's marriage. Anne's sister Mary, in fact, attended her in her next confinement in the summer of 1818.101 Furthermore, if William had anticipated the marriage of John and his daughter, the disappointment of his hopes did not prevent him from suggesting that Anne take advantage of the fact that the newlyweds John and Emma were travelling from York to England the following summer by sailing with them.102 Anne herself, however broken-hearted she undoubtedly felt, did not continue to press John after it became clear that he was to marry Emma. She declined to return to Canada with them and spent the next three years visiting with relatives at Norwich and Tolpuddle.

213 Limitations of "Woman's Sphere"

"How happy I am to find you are pleased with Mrs Robinson; she is I believe thoroughly amiable," Anne wrote to her mother two years after her rejection by John. "I hope nothing will ever interrupt the friendly intercourse between the families; gratitude as well as sincere respect and liking for us all will ever make it the wish of J.B.R. to cultivate an intimate friendship with you all, and those who know how inestimable much a friend is, will never neglect him, even did they love him less than I think you all must."103 The years that Anne spent in England were apparently calm ones. Her cousin Mary, daughter of her mother's sister Mary Browne, reported that she was "quite well and I hear very much improved in appearance since she came to England."104 Her mother was happy to receive such positive reports about Anne from relatives. She was "a great favourite" with her Aunt and Uncle Warren "and much thought of by the very respectable circle of their Friends."105 "Mrs Warren writes of Anne in the most affectionate terms of approbation," her mother related.1"6 In particular, Anne made herself useful by assisting during the illnesses of her Grandmother Murray and Uncle Warren. "I know her capacity for rendering assistance of any and every kind, yields to none," her mother proudly wrote. "She possesses an adroitness which is rarely seen, and is of more importance than mere physical strength. From her earliest age she was remarkable for this talent."107 Beneath the surface calm, however, problems were developing. In 1817, while she was in England, Aiine reached her thirtieth birthday. She began to realize that it was unlikely now that she would ever marry. What was she then to do with her life? Her father was anxious for her to return to York, but she successfully resisted his wishes. He complained constantly about her expenses, even though she lived a very quiet life in the homes of her relatives. "I did mean to write Papa by this mail," she wrote in the last year of her visit, "but as this is all I will only thank him for his letter I would say kind letter, perhaps it is as good as I deserve, but I hate letters of business." His objections to her expenditures in England were such that "I tremble every shilling I spend, and yet when I think it will be soon over, and the greatest expense is certainly past, and Papa can afford it and would, I know, if he was by me with the money in his pocket, indulge me much more than I ever indulge myself." William had particularly objected to her attendance at the theatre, and she defended herself: "Indeed the play I went to is the only play I have been to, and I have not seen the inside of the Opera House, nor indeed any sight, except one exhibition have I been to. I have made away with a great deal of money," she con-

214 Transmission of Female Gender Roles ceded, then asserted defiantly that "I can only say that if I had more I should have spent it; next time I come to England I shall take care to bring plenty of money with me, for this time I can only say that I hope Papa will excuse me if I have taken more than he intended I should have, and recollect that ten or twenty pounds will not ruin him."108 Anne's sarcasm reflected how galling her complete dependence on the largesse of her father and the indulgence of her relatives was to her. At one point, she considered following the example of Miss English in New York by setting up a school. William strongly rejected her proposal, and Anne's reply revealed the pain and frustration she felt at her restricted lot in life. She answered in terms that affected submission to her father's will but at the same time actually challenged his authority: I feel that I inherit a large portion of your disposition for satire, &: altho a native Canadian I could give it as keen an edge ... but at the same time my better feelings tell me that ridicule is a dangerous weapon betwixt near & dear relations and also that I have no right to retort upon those who have not only a natural right to control me but have every claim to my gratitude & affection. These considerations lead me to wish to answer your last in such a manner as without impertinence to convince you that you have in it done me some little injustice. I thought I wrote to you in so guarded a Manner that I could not be mistaken. It was far from my intention to give a Commission I meant to ask leave & advice & I cannot think that what I wished to do being already done by a Gentlewoman can reflect upon me it rather proves there was nothing really disgraceful in my intention. "*> William had evidently ridiculed the idea of Anne's becoming a schoolteacher, mocking her poor education and suggesting that she was only interested in it as a self-indulgent hobby. Anne was deeply hurt by his suggestion: The idea of being a teacher in an English School is in direct opposition to what I proposed. My wish above all things was to live in Canada. It was not for the pleasure of teaching that I wished to keep a school but for the sake of being permanendy settled of procuring an independence & in order to be more my own mistress than I could be as an inmate in any private family. I was also promted by a wish for employment & the natural desire of not living in vain. Certainly I was not intended by nature, nor has my education fitted me for a subordinate situation. I am also conscious of this that I will never subject myself to any control except for those to whom nature has given a right to command me. To your authority as far as you

215 Limitations of "Woman's Sphere" ever chose to exert it I always have submitted & ever will submit, 8c I must acknowledge I think it would have been happier for me had Mamma & yourself oftener thought it necessary to put my obedience to the test.110 Anne thus abandoned the proposal that she be a teacher. And despite all of her protestations of obedience, she was still not prepared to return. "You do not directly say that you expect me to return to Canada this summer," she told her father, "therefore unless letters conveying such a wish reach me before June, I shall give up all thoughts of the voyage until another year. Perhaps all things considered it will be the best plan to pursue."111 When Anne finally did return home in the spring of 1819, the problems that had been present when she left had not vanished, and, if anything, her frustration with her lot in life had increased. Anne's lack of education, money, and parental approval made it impossible for her to earn her own way in the world by teaching. Apart from assisting her mother in running the household, there was little for her to do. One day a week, she found some useful occupation in teaching a girls' Sunday School class,1 l a but for the rest of the time she concentrated her energies on her two nieces, then just returned to York from Miss English's tutelage. The next two years were a strange and desperate time for the women of the Powell family. Even before she had left for England, Anne, while educating them, had dominated and strictly supervised her nieces. "Anne's return with these poor Children would I was well aware, subject them to undue restrictions and caprice," her mother wrote after she had been home for several months. "The novelty of her return in some measure occupied her mind, and rendered her more reasonable than I expected. When that no longer existed the old system of tyranny commenced with augmented violence and it is now arisen to such an height that Mary is no longer a free agent." Anne also sought to discredit her mother's favourite granddaughter. She told her mother that Uncle George had described Mary as " 'a liar a slut and a sloven, that no dependence could be placed on her in any way -whatever'"11* These accusations cut the doting grandmother to the quick, as they were clearly intended to do. George's assurance that he had never expressed such criticism, that it was a total fabrication, greatly reassured her."4 In fact, if anything, he had joined the girls in "having anticipated and lamented the tyranny" to which Anne's "temper would subject them."""1 It is clear that Anne was using her nieces as weapons in a kind of vendetta against her parents. There may have been several motivations for her behaviour. As a strong-willed individual who desired

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and was denied independence, she may have wanted to carve out some sort of sphere of importance and influence for herself. As well, she was very likely jealous of her nieces on several grounds. To begin with, they had been given all the advantages that she had been denied. Her father had financed their education and kept them in a style in New York which she had never been granted. Her mother had ensured that they would have the social graces and accomplishments necessary to enable them to support themselves by teaching. This was an option not open to Anne because of her meagre education. If she could not be their superior in terms of accomplishments, Anne at least felt justified in asserting a moral ascendancy over her nieces. Finally, she was likely envious of the affection that was lavished on them by their grandparents. William, who had always been cold and distant to his daughters, was comparatively warm and caring to the offspring of his eldest son. A resentment of this preference may have been the cause of Anne's efforts to alienate Anne and Mary from their grandparents. It is a measure of her powerful personality that her efforts were very largely successful. The elder Anne regarded her daughter as wilful and uncontrollable, but there was another side to the story. "I have good friends enough at home to save any neighbour the trouble of hurting my feelings," the younger Anne complained to her sister Mary in 1819. "The idea [of] my being satisfied even seems really to irritate Mamma beyond all bound[s]. ... Had I at this moment the most disagreeable [place] in the world to go to I would quit this house forever indeed nothing but Mary keeps me here. As it is, I should feel that I deserved a charge if I left her to the sole guidance of their Grandmamma who though I believe she now does and says things purposely to annoy me, is certainly the last person I would leave to guide a young person." Anne's criticism of her mother may have stemmed more from old resentments than present injustice, however. "God knows all the young part of my life was sacrificed saving and in [illegible] Economy," she recalled bitterly. Even now, "while Mama enjoys all the convenience of increased means she fairly watches to prevent my being in any one way more comfortable than when penned up in a small house." Anne's frustration with her limited sphere of activity was acute. She felt that she was being treated "like a halfwitted girl of 15" for no other reason "than that I wish to have everything my own way & they chuse to shew me I shall not - if they mean it for a salutary lesson - it might do well enough but when it is the mere effect of horrid temper it is too bad."116

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What ensued between Anne and her mother was a kind of domestic guerrilla warfare, each trying to counter the other's influence over young Mary and Anne. Poor Eliza was caught in the middle of it all. "You can't think how I dread this winter," she wrote to her sister Mary. "Anne goes on so strongly & Papa and Mama are so inclined to blame everything she does. You know that once they get dissatisfied with anyone it is hard to please them. In truth Anne does not take much pain to do so."117 That the conflict between mother and daughter was allowed to persist unresolved had much to do with the former's reluctance to involve her husband. "Would to God I could follow your united advice and resume that authority which has been wrested from me," she explained to George, "but without calling in paternal aid it is impossible, and nothing but dire necessity will induce me to do so." She did her best to preserve "harmony between father and Daughter," even though "his observation furnishes him with continual causes of disgust." The reason for her silence was the public humiliation that would result. "A word of complaint from me would cause such an explosion, as would render concealment of our discomfort impracticable, and at this every better feeling of my mind revolts for I had rather fall a sacrifice to the indignation I endure, then confess to strangers my submission or my Daughters tyranny.""8 This "tyranny" was manifested in the younger Anne's refusal, literally, to let her niece Mary out of her sight. All efforts to remove her from Anne's control were futile. The terms in which she responded to an invitation from her sister to have Mary visit her reveal Anne's deepening mental distress. "I feel sorry to be the means of disappointing any desire of yours," Anne told her sister, "tho1 your own heart must tell whether or not I have much to thank you for in your invitation to Mary." "No power on earth can make me go from my word, that nothing but force should ever separate me from Mary until she is married," Anne declared. She went on to threaten that the "disgrace which anything like force must bring upon her would I should suppose always have too much weight with her relations for them to think of resorting to it." Anne's justification for such oppressive control over her niece was a peculiar one. "That all my actions towards her, and much more my thoughts would bear investigation I believe cannot seriously be doubted by any of our friends, & I declare it in the sight of heaven - tho she is sometime[s] allowed to be a Rod in the hand of those who certainly hate me, & I hope without cause," she declared. Anne cast herself in the role of persecuted victim. "That a mother is the tyrant & a Daughter the victim can alone excuse the part my brothers & sisters have taken.

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May God forgive them their error and teach them to feel when called upon to discharge the sacred trust more strongly than my parents have done the delicate tie between a Christian Parent 8c Child."119 Anne may even have gone so far as to make public her condemnation of such parental behaviour. In November of 1819, Eliza noted that Anne was writing a piece for a small local publication, the Christian Recorder.1*0 It was an eclectic and short-lived compilation of mainly religious reflections, most of them reprinted from elsewhere. The publisher was desperate for some original submissions, and in December of 1819 was delighted to note that he had anonymously received some "excellent reflexions" on New Year's resolutions, and was so impressed with them that he desired "frequent communications" from the author.121 Judging by its dominant subject matter and style, it was more than likely written by Anne. It read in part: I who am a parent and have servants at my command, will reflect on my past negligence, and shudder whilst I call to mind my long neglect of duties the most sacred. ... From this day, I will lose no opportunity of recompensing those poor creatures, those innocent children, for the injury I have done them, in allowing their precious lives to pass unpractised in those habits [of prayer and worship] by which alone the respect of the world, and their eternal happiness can be assured. ... I will remember how just my childish reasoning told me was the punishment of that wretched mother whose wicked son was allowed to bite off her ear, at the moment he was about to suffer the sentence of the law, which her precepts had never taught him to revere, nor her example to dread. I will then, if my mind can bear the horrid inference, reflect on what must be my own condemnation, should I meet my children and dependents on the day of judgment, trembling at the sight of that book, which I never taught them was to record all their actions, and striving to flee from that wrath which I never led them daily to deprecate. I will think how little all my daily labours on earth can avail me at such a moment - how useless would be the richest inheritance the worldly father could leave his child, in assuaging the agony of those little ones who in this misery are calling upon me to exert that only power which my pride and my brutality ever taught them to dread or confide in, in extricating them from that awful presence which their guilty souls cannot bear.122

These reflections, the author admitted, were "particularly intended for the benefit of those elders, on whom devolves the charge of children and servants, and whose happiness here and hereafter

2ig Limitations of "Woman's Sphere" must in all probability depend much upon their proper performance of this a sacred duty."123 If Anne did not actually write these sentiments, she surely would have agreed with them. In her opinion, her parents were mean and uncaring. She claimed to suffer "everything that can most cruelly hurt a woman of my feelings Be is in my situation to contend with I feel & I pray God to give me strength to persevere." Even if Anne's distress was of her own making, it is clear that it was very real to her. "When I think of my nights and days I look at myself in the glass my own appearance does astonish me - Fancy me with all my idle fears of dark & solitude shut out from all intercourse with the rest of the family as soon as night comes." She concluded dramatically that her sister should "think of the Mother who cannot rest on her pillow until she has made the heart of her daughter hate - & govern your temper Mary lest it one day stifle every good feeling."la/l Anne did not even have the satisfaction of venting her disturbed feelings. Her mother felt that such domestic arguments were most improper and would only cause greater distress. "I never will again engage in an altercation with this froward Daughter," she promised herself. "Neither my mind or body are equal to it." Such suppression of conflict was preferable to an open dispute, she added, which would involve her husband and destroy "all appearance of family harmony," making them "the topic and jest of the public."1"5 The approach of Mary's second, and very risky, confinement made the elder Anne change her mind, however. She feared that Anne would insist on going to Queenston and create a scene that would upset Mary. As she explained, Anne's "apparent insanity, rendered it impossible longer to keep her father in ignorance of the undutiful and disrespectful conduct to which I have for many months submitted."126 William evidently exercised his authority to detain what he described as an "intolerable Girl," "the wretch that poisons all my satisfaction in the Society of my dear Girls," at home in York during Mary's confinement.1"7 Anne's feeling that she was persecuted by her entire family and the stress of the conflict with her parents began to tell seriously on her. Shortly after the confrontation with her father, she became ill with a stomach disorder, possibly an ulcer. Her suffering did not prevent her from expressing her alienation from her family by insisting on calling in another physician in place of her brother Grant. "God grant that she may make a proper use of the sufferings she now endures, and that her restoration to health may be attended by a subdued temper of mind," declared her mother. "I pardon her for the hours of agony she has caused me. The recollection

22O Transmission of Female Gender Roles

of them is ease compared with the reflection that she has sometimes so far overcome my self command as to make me utter that for which I severely condemn myself." It was difficult for her to avoid arguing with her daughter, however. "I have sometimes fled from her persecution, but in vain. The house afforded no sanctuary, exposed to the evening air in the gallery was alone security, for there she dared not follow me.ma8 From the summer of 1820 well into the next year, Anne's health continued to be poor and in the opinion of her mother was "irrevocably injured. ... But she is so imprudent and so unmindful of the directions of the best kindest and most skillful medical Friend, that she tries his patience and baffles all his prescriptions."129 As her mother had predicted, once William had been informed of the extent of the conflict, it was not long before it became public knowledge. The writings in the Christian Recorder, if written by Anne, would not have been anonymous for long in the fish-bowl society of York. Toward the end of the year 1820, the Anglican pastor, John Strachan, became so concerned about the seriousness of the situation that he insisted that mother and daughter resolve their conflict before he would grant either of them communion. "I do not enter into the unhappy differences, which have so long subsisted," he wrote to the younger Anne about what was now common knowledge to all. "I wish them buried in oblivion, and that the holy communion may become as it ought, the bond of future harmony and peace."'30 This appeal resulted in a "sort of tranquility," which, the mother explained, "was obtained by my yielding ... against my better judgement tho' by the advice of Dr Strachan, by whose opinion I had pledged myself to abide. I told him I was doing evil to obtain a doubtful good; time will discover in whether my prognostications are right."13' Anne's mother was correct in her prediction that the conflict with her daughter would not be so easily resolved. It continued to escalate until Anne, knowing her mother's most vulnerable point, finally went too far. As her mother complained, "she accused me in presence of her Nieces of vulgar and unladylike conduct."1'^ This must have indeed cut to the quick. DavidofF and Hall have observed that such mother-daughter generational tensions were not unusual, and that "Vulgar or simple, old-fashioned mothers being upbraided by more sophisticated daughters were the stock in trade of fiction." As with the Powells, "Sometimes the conflict could take the form of a daughter's commitment to serious Christianity in opposition to a mother's frivolity or crude worldliness.'"33 Anne had attacked her mother on all these grounds, and for the elder Anne this was finall

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too much. She informed George, "I have forebore every communication that could be avoided. We never speak, but when at the head of my own Table, I ask her choice of viands."134 Yet, fearing another public scene, she hid this from her husband, who, she explained, "knows not that the Mother and Eldest daughter never exchange a syllable." In the battle for control over her nieces, the younger Anne had been victorious. "The deleterious effects of her precept and example on the minds of those dear orphans to whom I looked for pleasure and amusement of my declining [years] cannot be described," wrote the broken-hearted grandmother. "They are both subdued to her will."135 Anne's tactics for controlling her nieces soon changed. She softened her attitude and appealed to Anne and Mary as her only friends, assuring them that what they had "thought tyranny ... arose from anxiety and mistaken zeal to render them perfect." She even went so far as to threaten suicide if they deserted her.'36 Replacing discipline with kindness and commands with tears and pleading, Anne persuaded her nieces to take her part against the rest of the family. So great was her alienation that Anne even refused an invitation from her sister Mary to attend her in childbirth, a rejection her mother indignantly felt "reflected indelible disgrace on an unfeeling sister. It is certainly carrying the selfishness which marks her character beyond what even I could have expected."'37 The situation had deteriorated to such an extent that, by the summer of 1821, the two girls were refusing to go for an evening ride in the carriage with their grandparents because their aunt was not invited. Disgusted with this behaviour, William threatened to turn them out of the house and send them back to their mother, a step which would have devastated their grandmother.'38 Such a tense situation obviously could not be maintained for long. Inevitably, the family conflict came to a final crisis. Sometime during the two and a half years since she had returned from England, it is clear, Anne had crossed the boundary from frustration and unhappiness to mental illness. Her situation at home became at last totally intolerable to her, and she began to talk about returning to England for another visit. It was at this critical juncture that John Beverley Robinson imprudently invited her to travel there with him and his wife. Thus began the final tragic episode in Anne's life, which has influenced all subsequent interpretations of her erratic conduct. It has been assumed that she was chasing after her former lover whom she had never ceased to harass with her attentions. Perhaps Anne still harboured feelings for John, but she had not displayed them since that summer in London almost six years

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earlier in 1816. The major source of the suggestion that she had been constantly pursuing John is his son-in-law, Sir Henry Lefroy, who wrote about the incident many years later. According to Lefroy, although Anne was otherwise "of irreproachable character," she persecuted the Robinsons from their first arrival in Canada, calling on Emma and sending John letters. Lefroy claimed that she was not admitted to their home, that Emma "steadily and inexorably refused to know her or notice her" and treated Anne as "a myth or a nullity." He even suggested that Anne was caught alone in their home one day caressing their first-born baby son, Lukin.'39 Robinson's biographer Patrick Erode suggests that "Miss Powell had little use for the usurper of John Robinson's affections," quoting as evidence a passing reference Anne made in a letter home from England to Emma's "romantic history" and the strange death of her father. He completely ignores the sentences immediately preceding and following these references, where Anne speaks of Emma as "thoroughly amiable" and expresses the wish that "nothing will ever interrupt the friendly intercourse between the families.'"40 It would also have been difficult for Anne either to call on Emma upon the latter's arrival at York or to caress her newborn son, since she returned to Upper Canada two years after the Robinsons. Furthermore, it would have been impossible, in that small and insular elite society, for the wife of the attorney-general to snub the daughter of the chief justice without causing a major social scandal and a serious rift between the families. That this was not the case is clear. From the beginning, the Powells accepted John's choice of bride. "The report of your marriage has produced some sensation here, as it was the general opinion that you were to choose one of my Parishioners," wrote Strachan to John, "but the family concerned have conducted themselves with great propriety on the occasion, whatever their private feelings and sentiments may be.'"4' Certainly there is much evidence that the Powells were all friendly with Emma. Anne the elder described her as "my friend and favorite,'"42 Eliza dined at her home, and visits were often exchanged.143 In the fall of 1820, the elder Anne noted that "Mrs Robinson and Mrs Boulton with Peter and William Robinson and J Boulton drank tea here last Evening. When Mrs R went home she found her husband [returned home] ... They called this morning."144 It would have been next to impossible for Emma to avoid or ignore her former rival during the frequent social calls and public events that would bring them together. On one such occasion, for example, the families were together at a ball which "was opened by Miss Powell and [Robinson] the Attorney-General.'"45 Finally, it is

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hard to believe that any such continual pestering of John would have passed unnoticed by Anne's mother, who criticized her daughter frequently in her letters and would certainly have been outraged by any suggestion of impropriety. It is true that Emma rejected the suggestion that Anne travel with her and John, but surely Anne's generally bizarre and unpleasant behaviour would have provided sufficient reason for such a decision. In any case, as Anne's mother later pointed out, "had the application for her being of Mr Robinsons party been made by me in the first instance; Mrs R. would have made no objection.'"46 Lefroy described a dramatic scene in which Anne went to the Robinsons' home on the midnight before their departure, begging to go with them.'47 The truth of the matter, which even her mother was unaware of until later, was that "the invitation to accompany them was given by Mr Robinson, the very day his voyage was decided. ... Without considering to whom he was speaking he gave and reiterated the invitation."'48 When Emma discovered that Anne intended to travel with them, her negative reaction put John in a very difficult and embarrassing position. At the time, he kept quiet about his invitation to Anne, making it seem as if it were her own idea. When she attempted to confirm it, he approached her mother, telling her, as she put it, of Anne's "application to accompany them to London, and to return again with them to the Parental roof. As to the former I assured him of the relief it would afford to me; as to the latter it was out of the question; for once withdrawing herself in such a way would close the doors forever." "He says, Mrs R is terrified at the idea of such an addition to their party and cannot consent to it. All I could say was that no assistance could be expected ... altho' at the same time there were few sacrifices I would not make to persuade a seperation; and left to him to decide.'"49 John's efforts to prevent Anne from travelling with him were futile. Having made her decision to leave, in her desperate mental state, she felt that not going would be some kind of public humiliation. Anne was so eager to get away from home that she would not take no for an answer. A single woman could not travel without appropriate "protection," and such an opportunity might not present itself again for some time. In addition, her father, who might have prevented or resisted her departure, had himself sailed for England several weeks before and thus could not actively oppose her plans. Her efforts to convince John to allow her to travel with him became more extreme and invited gossip and speculation. "Miss Powell has been behaving in a manner truly worthy of herself," wrote John's brother William to Samuel Peters Jarvis. "She

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insists upon going to England with John, and has written some of the D-ndest letters you ever saw. He of course, will have nothing to say to her, but she declares she will follow him to New York, and embark in the same ship. ... Poor Mrs Powell certainly is to be pitied."150 Indeed, as Mrs Powell herself noted, "the domestic evils to which I am exposed are so public that it is vain to attempt concealment."15' When this "unnatural daughter" attempted unsuccessfully to finance her journey by selling some land that had been granted her as the offspring of a Loyalist, her mother decided to intervene to facilitate her departure. "She is I find determined to go, and I have resolved to furnish her with the means," she informed her husband. The retention of some vestige of family pride made this essential. "Altho her conduct towards me has been atrocious, unnatural and the apparent consequence of the most confirmed hatred, I cannot submit to her abandoning her Parental roof in the character of a Pauper. ... I will endeavour ... to give her the means of going in some decent mode, which will not at once forfeit her station in society." Her mother's intervention became all the more necessary when people began to talk about Anne's motivations in persisting in her plan to travel with the Robinsons. "It makes me shudder at the idea I cannot overcome that his departure influences her," wrote her mother. '5* Her brother Grant finally took Anne aside and told her that "the world would suppose that she had an improper regard for J.B.R. that made her persist in following him.'"53 Indeed, "the whole circumstances attending ... [her] conduct, combined with former events yet remembered by the community, ascribed the act to motives derogatory to feminine decency. It can be viewed in no other light.'"5d Anne perversely insisted that, if she did not now go, this would somehow prove the allegations, that "now that such a thing was said it was her duty to go, and nothing would make her give it up."1"'5 In the end, Anne was literally imprisoned in her room by her brother Grant and Mr Strachan to prevent her from leaving with the Robinsons, who had been promised at least forty-eight hours' start on her. The family hoped to arrange some respectable conveyance for her later, but she thwarted their efforts. Early the next morning, she went to her mother and apologized, "expressed sorrow at what had passed, and gave assurances of future conduct that would meet ... approbation.'"56 Returning to her own room with her nieces, she enlisted their aid, asking them to lie for her so she could make her escape. "The way Anne managed them," Eliza related, "was to come in and cry and sob and tell them that they

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had it in their power to make her happy or miserable, and begged them to let her go without saying a word. Mary says she held the door shut for some minutes while she tried to persuade her to stay, but it would not do; she was determined and appeared in such distress that they could not find it in their hearts to keep her.'"57 This departure created a terrible scandal. "The disgrace of a Daughter of this family having fled from her Father's house, gone I know not where to find a sleigh, and go without cloaths or Money at the mercy of the man who drives her" was, according to her mother, a great humiliation.'58 That by leaving in such a manner Anne had forfeited her right to be considered a member of polite society her mother made very clear. "Nothing short of the insanity which is said to govern her, can palliate the scandalous part she has acted, not only as it regards her family, but as the persecutor of Mrs Robinson. ... Dear little woman," Anne the elder wrote of Emma, "My heart bleeds for her. The affection almost fillial which she has always discovered towards me, has been ill repaid." Her daughter's letters home since her precipitate departure were "such specimens of unfailing perseverance in evil, as can not fail to disgust the least estimable characters." Evidently, as in the article in the Christian Recorder, "the detail of her mad pursuit" was "interlarded with the quotations from the sacred scriptures with ejaculations and prayers. In her last, written after she had been driving all night in a sleigh without any companion than a driver, and was in the house with the Atty Genl without being admitted to see them, she says 'I pray God to confound my devices if they are inconsistent with Christianity.' " Anne the younger cast herself in epic biblical terms as a persecuted innocent. " 'Join with me my dear Girls in this prayer, for you know my belief in prayer: and will remember Pharaoh and his Host, to guard against hardness of heart/ " Anne had written. "The profanity of this stuff can only equal its folly and misapplication," wrote her disgusted mother. "The subject replete as it is with mortification is inexhaustable." There was no other course, her mother felt, than complete ostracism. "The notoriety of her conduct precludes all possibility of her being recognized as an acquaintance, by those whom we associate. If she returns legal measures must be taken to ensure her seperation from a family she has rendered miserable, by subjecting them to the feeling of disgrace new and unexpected."159 Such was the harsh sentence her mother passed upon her. Anne followed the Robinsons to New York, evidently considering that by stopping at all the same places, she would be suitably "protected" as a genteel woman should be. She wrote home to a

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friend that "she was always considered as the 'Lady' of the party."'60 "If he committed evil or joined in it against you," wrote the elder Anne of Robinson to her husband, "he has met with retribution for your Daughter has created ... [for] him as much discomfort as he will perhaps experience during the remainder of his Life."16' When Anne arrived in New York, her relatives joined her mother in the condemnation of her behaviour. In desperate financial straits, she was exposed "to the Mortification of being barred out of two Houses of her Relations" until her Uncle George took her in.'62 There, physically and emotionally exhausted, she began to understand the inappropriateness of her behaviour and agreed to wait and sail in another ship after the Robinsons had departed. If Anne's mother had severely censured her behaviour, her father's reaction was even more extreme. "Miss Powell's conduct is so uniform that it occasions no surprise," he wrote when he heard of her plans to leave home. "Vanity, folly & malice are so blended in her Composition that I can only expect mortification when I hear of her. ... No consideration will permit me to come in contact with her."'63 He called her a "miserable wretch," a "Freak," a "baneful Comet," and a "fiend."'64 "That monster in human disguise who so torments you," William wrote to his wife, "occupied my waking dreams last night so strongly that I expected on rising to find her here - Terror was a lively Emotion until I recovered myself from the Shock." "I began to perceive that she is activated by the diabolical Purpose of distressing Mrs Robinson," he observed, "which feeds the vengeance of a disappointed Woman - your Brother Geo advises me to take out a state of lunacy but ... a Gaol for her unprincipled Debts would be best security against further & great discomfort." William's active imagination conjured up even greater improprieties. He had heard rumours that Anne had demonstrated a "partiality" for Sir John Copley. Might she not chase after him too? "I must be under the painful necessity of apprising Mrs Copley of her danger," he wrote, "for the unfeeling impudence of the witch might occasion, from a similar Cause, as great annoyance to Lady Copley as to Mrs Robn." He was actually afraid of meeting his daughter. "My indignation is so uncontrollable, that I should fear some bit of violence might result.'"65 William's extreme reaction to Anne's strange behaviour is revealing. As Nina Auerbach has so tellingly observed, the ideal of the pure and moral lady characteristic of the Cult of True Womanhood had its dark counterpart in the popular imagination. The woman who fell from grace turned from an angel to a demon and her unleashed sexuality was seen as a powerful and destructive force.'66

227 Limitations of "Woman's Sphere"

We can see this fear of the uncontrolled female in William's response to his daughter's impropriety. Having stepped outside of her appropriate sphere, Anne had become in his eyes quite literally something less than human; as he put it, a monster in human disguise. Fortunately Anne's delayed departure gave William some time to calm down and reconsider. Favourable reports of her from George and a softening of his wife's attitude combined with the intervention of his sister-in-law, Mary Browne, to convince him to make some provision for his daughter's support. He explained to his wife that he now had "a new idea as to our mutual Plague. It is to prevail upon her to reside in France at some of the English Boarding Houses under the name of Convents which are not uncommon retreats for decayed branches of good families.'"67 There, he explained, "a new scene may subjects afford for her working intriguing mind without affecting ourselves or our friends."168 He wrote caustically that "In such a retreat ... she might indulge many of her propensities, might flatter herself that she was instructing those around her, displaying her own acquirements & perhaps enjoy the superior gratification of conveying some lost Soul from darkness to Light."169 With this plan in mind, he resolved to "change my deportment, to see her and make an effort to recover her reason.'"70 It was to be a source of some consolation to William and his wife that he had managed to modify his resentment of his daughter. It was a few weeks after the departure of the Robinsons before Anne was able to find an appropriate ship with other female passengers, the Albion. This ill-fated vessel encountered stormy seas and took on water for several days before being broken up on the coast of Ireland on 22 April 1822. Witnesses watched in horror as the passengers drowned in full view of the shore. Reputedly Anne had actively assisted in taking her turn at the pumps and had struggled "to the last with almost supernatural Energy" before being dashed upon the rocks.171 When her body was washed up on the shore, she was identified by a pin which was removed from her clothing and sent to her shocked father.172 "It is not possible to describe to you my best friend," he wrote to his wife, "the internal Effect of this Intelligence. Horror was at first the principal, Sorrow and regret succeeded and quite overpowered me for a time, when a thousand various Emotions succeeded." He walked the streets of London in a daze, ending up at the Houses of Parliament; there, through a bizarre quirk of fate, he found himself standing beside John Beverley Robinson, who pretended not to notice him. "The finger of Providence seems to be in this thing" he mused.'73 Two months

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after Anne's death, he made a pilgrimage to Ireland to place a tombstone on her grave and "felt my weakness return in that most oppressive propensity to Tears." William was overwhelmed with regret and guilt and his "rest was much disturbed by painful images." Perhaps he wished that he had been more understanding of this difficult daughter, so similar to him in temperament. His regret was so great that he felt driven to take communion for the first time in over fifty years. "Evidence," William claimed, "of my conviction that I should no more mingle with the censors of this World, a secret but high impression which has hitherto kept me from joining ... in the act of devotion. ... I was very much overcome during the ceremony."'74 At home in York, the news of Anne's death was met with a stunned grief. "It is impossible to say what I have felt and what I continue to feel," wrote her distraught mother. "The recollection of her early promise, and the conviction of what she could and might have been to her Parents and her family, overpowers all resentful feelings."'75 "I can think of nothing else, she is ever before my eyes ... I will not, I dare not doubt the felicity she now enjoys, and I seek consolation in the hope, that after all the afflictions of this miserable world we shall meet where sorrow never enters.'"76 The whole household was torn by regret and grief, but Anne's niece Mary was particularly plunged into depression. Over a year later, her grandmother noted that she had improved, "but there is one subject upon which we are always silent, tho' I am convinced her mind continually and painfully dwells upon it. Indeed every thing she sees every amusement she seeks leads to unavoidable recurrence; embittered by self accusation."'77 Eliza, too, suffered greatly. "I do indeed pity J[ohn] B[everley] R[obinson]," she wrote to her sister Mary. "I think he ought never to make an idle or insincere speech again, for from that we date all this misery. I cannot blame him for opposing her going with him, though I always wished he had not, and now I am sure so does he as much as I wish to recall the last two years of my life."'78 All of them found it convenient to credit the bizarre sequence of events that led to the death of this woman, whose personal "power" no one could use "more successfully whether to fascinate or disgust," to something as easy to understand as romantic obsession.'79 To see her as the "victim of an ill-fated attachment" was to avoid a deeper probing into the reasons for her aberrant behaviour.'80 The alternative was to see her as deliberately evil or seriously mentally ill. And none of those observing the events at that time would have entertained the notion that her suffering

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was that of a strong-willed and independent spirit unable to find scope for expression within the boundaries of the restrictive sphere that women of her class were confined to.'8' Although the Robinsons and the Powells were cool to one another for some time and William and John became bitter political enemies, the women of the families gradually reestablished social ties.18* None of them, however, was able to forget Anne. Robinson himself, on a voyage to England thirty-three years later, noted in his diary on passing the Irish coast that "this was the place where the Albion was lost."'83 Her mother in particular was haunted by Anne's memory. At Mary's next confinement, she could not "help feeling that the consent of my poor unfortunate to perform that part that her Sister now does, would have averted a calamity, forever causing the pangs of maternal affection.'"84 When her granddaughter Mary later became entangled romantically with the unacceptable Mr Chewett, she noted that "in this instance my efforts would have been strengthened by one who is no more, whose influence was irresistable."'85 Fourteen years after her daughter's death, on 22 April, Anne wrote, "This is to me a painful anniversary. Indeed few days pass without calling forth reminisences fraught with the most severe regret, and too often with self condemnation; an aggravation which my consciousness of having at the moment considered myself performing my duty is insufficient to conquer."l8b For once, having done her duty was no consolation to her. Today, the tragic life and death of Anne Powell can haunt us still, as a grim reminder of the consequences of violating the social standards of correct female behaviour in the early nineteenth century. Ill

SPINSTER: ELIZABETH POWELL

When Elizabeth was born, her mother considered her to be "quite a Miracle of Beauty," but she was never to become the belle that her older sister Anne had been.'87 Elizabeth was a comparatively meek and docile child, overwhelmed by the strong personality of her sibling. Her quiet and retiring disposition make her a difficult character to come to terms with. At times, she seems a gray shadowy presence living vicariously through others. Like Anne, she never married, but this was where the similarity between them began and ended. Where one was aggressive, self-centred, and vocal, the other was yielding, self-sacrificing, and quiet. Whereas Anne violated many social norms, her younger sister more than fulfilled all that her parents and society expected of her. Eliza's life was devoted to

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the care and service of others, which made her popular and well loved among her relatives but also meant that, at times, her good nature was taken advantage of. Like her sisters, Eliza was brought up in the remoteness of the western district of Upper Canada and had little opportunity for formal education. Her trip to New York at the age of sixteen with her sister Mary was her first experience away from home. As a child, she suffered from a delicate constitution and her mother worried about her. For the year before her departure, her health had been especially precarious. "Depending as I do on the united attention of all my Friends to Eliza's health," wrote her mother, "I cannot help saying I hope she will be careful to guard against cold or damp - a shower which would not have wet a Cambrick Handkerchief nearly cost her her life - watching a Humming Bird while the wind blew from the east had a similar effect.'"88 In all other respects, Anne had not a moment's anxiety about her daughter. Her "compliance with everything thought proper for her I have no doubt."'89 Indeed, Anne asserted, "Of Eliza, I have no apprehensions, set aside a few peculiarities which intercourse with the world will conquer, & she is as unexceptional as most young women."'90 After she returned to Upper Canada in the years leading up to the War of 1812, when her younger and older sisters were constantly visiting friends and relatives at Niagara, Queenston, and Kingston, Elizabeth remained close to home. In 1811 she went to attend her nephew's christening at Niagara, but unlike Mary, who stayed away all winter, she soon returned home.'9' For the most part, Eliza was "content to lead a very retired life." If anything, her mother was concerned that she was somewhat too retiring and domestic and was pleased to report when she was twenty-three that Eliza was "more improved than you can imagine; cheerful even to vivacity & a favorite with every one."'9" Although popular, Eliza was never to attract suitors as had her sisters. Three years later her mother Anne reported that "Eliza's constitution is much improved. Ever seeking to serve others, she is universally beloved. A favorite with the whole circle of her acquaintance," Anne continued tactfully, "she has yet seen no Man worthy of her, and I have the most perfect confidence that she will never make an imprudent or improper choice.'"93 Quiet Elizabeth was overshadowed by her elder sister, Anne. It may not have been coincidental that her social life expanded shortly after Anne left on her long visit to England. In the summer of 1816, Eliza spent several weeks at the homes of friends at Niagara and Queenston; the next summer was spent in "the Country"; and the following spring brought her back to Niagara.'94 Still, her primary

231 Limitations of "Woman's Sphere" bonds were with her family, in particular with her younger sister, Mary. Her sister's marriage in 1818 was deeply depressing to Eliza; at twenty-nine, she must have realized that it was unlikely that she herself would ever marry. Mary's wedding signalled the beginning of a lonely adulthood. Samuel Peters Jarvis, who described Eliza as being "formed of those nice and fine feelings, which the least uncouth offends," noticed that something was wrong. "How is Miss Eliza?" he asked his betrothed. "I hope she has recovered from that attack of ennui she laboured under so severely when I last had the pleasure of seeing her."195 Her mother also noticed how distressed Eliza was. "She is very much depressed at parting with the sister from whom she has not been seperated for longer than a few months," Anne noted.'96 "Eliza feels very solitary," she continued. "She feels her Sisters absence the more from her employments being of a sedentary kind, the want of a companion is more irksome. However I trust the winter leisure will afford the means of amusement."197 Eliza did form a friendship with the newly arrived Englishwoman Emma Robinson,198 but, more important to her sense of purpose in life, she developed a role for herself as a kind of domestic adjunct in her mother's and sister's households. She became the stereotypical "beloved maiden aunt." As DavidofFand Hall observe, such "celibate young adults provided not only a pool of labour ... but would act as a buffer" within their families.'99 Certainly Eliza's favourite occupation lay in assisting her sister, with whom she shared a strong bond. When apart, they exchanged letters full of confidences and secrets. "I have a great desire to hear what this was, and where it was that it happened," Eliza asked about a piece of gossip. "I daresay that Sam knows & will tell you about it or any thing else that he told me, & if you write it to me let it be on a slip of paper by itself that I need not show to any one."a On another occasion she urged Mary not to "say a word of this when you write. ... Pray write soon, kiss the boys and believe me your affectionate sister."5"'1 Upon her return to York, Eliza's elder sister, Anne, may have felt excluded from the intimacy shared by her two sisters. Indeed, it may have been one factor in Anne's appropriation of the companionship of their nieces. Certainly Eliza took her mother's part in the conflict and shared these views with Mary. One way in which their mother sought to undermine Anne's influence was to promote that of her sisters. This enraged her headstrong daughter. Anne had convinced her nieces that her presence alone was "indispensable," complained her mother. "The protection of their kind sensitive and discreet Aunt Eliza is insufficient to secure them from

232 Transmission of Female Gender Roles speaking to improper people. ... Witnessing this and various other increasing evils, I yesterday desired the young girls to accompany their Aunt Eliza in a walk to town. A violent altercation was the consequence."208 This conflict caused a serious rupture of the bonds that were supposed to unite sisters to each other. "I feel more for my dear Eliza," observed the pained mother. "It is impossible for friendship or harmony to subsist between her and her Sister." In her anger, Anne had said some harsh things to Eliza. "The unpardonable reflection as base as unjust, which in the violent effervesence of temper she has used towards one whose bright example should be her guide, may be forgiven but can never be forgotten," concluded their mother.203 Yet, in spite of all this abuse, Eliza heaped coals of fire on her sister's head by turning the other cheek, being as indefatigable and tender in nursing her" through her long illness "as if her whole life had been devoted to promote the comfort of all around her."204 Indeed, the quiet and meek Eliza assumed a new stature within the family as a result of Anne's unacceptable behaviour. Her mother deeply appreciated Eliza's support throughout the crisis with Anne and held her up as an example. Eliza would have been less than human had she not enjoyed this new approval from her mother, even while she lamented the conflict. When her "worthless sister" finally fled from York, it was to Eliza that her mother turned to for support.205 Indeed, the elder Anne wrote, Eliza "has given me much comfort, her quiet and inflexible morality, will assist me to bring her Nieces to a just sense of their Aunts deviations."206 Eliza was anxious to reconcile the two girls with their grandmother. "Poor things they are to be pitied," Eliza confided to Mary. "However all will now go on well. I shall do all I can to do away with the bad feelings that exist against them."207 None of them was prepared to cope with the shock that came with the news of Anne's death, however. Young Mary, Eliza related, "lays the whole day on the bed, and [her sister] Anne sits by her. If I go in it is an evident restraint upon them, for they either stop talking or whisper." Eliza herself, as we have seen, wished that she could "recall the last two years of my life."21'8 Her mother was sure that Eliza would eventually "recover the serenity her rectitude deserves," but it was some time before any of them was to recover from the tragedy.209 Well into the following summer, Eliza was very ill and her regret and sorrow must have been renewed when she received the legacy of Anne's diamond ring.210 If anything, this very sad time in their lives bound the mother and daughter more closely together than ever before. When William's political difficulties forced a retirement in England, there was

233 Limitations of "Woman's Sphere" no question in Anne's mind that Eliza would accompany them. The mother felt a special responsibility for the welfare of this daughter. She was unwilling to depart without her, even though she was aware that William might argue that "Eliza ought not to leave" her sister. "Much as I love my youngest Daughter and her Children," Anne asserted, "I think otherwise, and am fully convinced that Eliza's facility to assist in lightening the domestic cares of her Sister, would make her little better than a slave. Indeed I should be miserable to know she was a permanent inmate in a family where affection would lead to sacrifice."211 Anne's motives in wanting her daughter to be with her, she recognized, were not entirely disinterested. "Our most excellent and universally esteemed Eliza will soothe my sufferings and share my dangers," she admitted to William.2'2 She was gratified to report that "Eliza's decision to share my fate was without hesitation." Anne recognized that it would be difficult for her daughter to leave behind her sister and nieces. "I hope she will now begin to study her own comfort," Anne wrote. "I feel satisfied at the prospect of being at the Vicarage, as it will prevent her confinement at home, which would be the consequence of house keeping."2'3 Residence at the Vicarage at Tolpuddle with William's sister and her husband, the Reverend Mr Warren, did not turn out to be so ideal. Although they were living in a pleasant spot with compatible relatives, their isolation after having spent years at the hub of York society was acute. Indeed, Eliza's mother admitted that "it is sometimes a source of great discomfort to me, to see her seclusion from society, which she cannot but find irksome even from the contrast with her former habits, and inclinations."'"'1 They were both glad when the political situation was sufficiently altered to permit William to return home to York without losing face. From a letter written during Eliza's sojourn in England, we have the only suggestion that a man may have wished to marry her. Her niece Mary wrote jokingly that they had recently spoken to a Mr Cameron who had seen the family in London. "How much [he] ... praised Aunt Eliza or how often he sighed as he spoke of her, I will not say - for she does not deserve to know his opinion of her, she has always treated him with such cruelty."8'5 But Eliza, who turned forty while she was in England, never married. In this she was not alone. Nancy Cott has described this preference for the single life as "marriage trauma," which she describes as a "withdrawal of emotional intensity from the too-burdened marriage choice, and also from the marital relationship."1"6 More recently, Lee Virginia Chambers Schiller, in looking at single women in the United States from 1780 to 1840, sees "single blessedness" as a positive alternative

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to marriage.217 Eliza seems to fit better into the second characterization. Once she and her parents were back from England and living in Upper Canada again, Eliza carved out an existence for herself that was, to her, quite satisfying. Eliza's sister Mary was too preoccupied with her family to think of much else. But a single woman had time on her hands, and Eliza used hers constructively. Church-related and charitable activities assumed a central role in her life. Eliza had enough financial security that she did not have to worry about earning a living. As a genteel maiden lady, benevolence to those less fortunate than herself was no less than a duty. This was a new role for women which developed with the new ideal of middle-class womanhood. If women were morally superior to men, then charitable activity would only be natural for them. Thomas Gisborne, in his 1797 Enquiry into the Duties of the Female Sex, pointed out that "In the discharge of the domestic offices of kindness, and in the exercise of charitable and friendly regard to the neighbouring poor, women in general are exemplary." He went on to discuss this new sphere of activity for women. "In the latter branch of Christian virtue, an accession of energy has been witnessed within a few years," he noted. "Many ladies have shewn, and still continue to shew, their earnest solicitude for the welfare of the wretched and the ignorant, by simultaneously establishing schools of industry and of religious instruction; and with a still more beneficial warmth of benevolence have taken the regular inspection of them upon themselves." The moralizing Gisborne heartily approved of women's new involvement in such worthy activities. "May they steadfastly persevere and be imitated by numbers!" he exclaimed.2'8 This new charitable movement began in York during the War of 1812. In response to the desperate needs of wounded men, the Loyal and Patriotic Society of Upper Canada was formed to provide supplies to the military hospital in i8i3. 2 ' 9 It was a male organization, but its efforts were supported by women. Anne Powell herself sent over a kettle of milk broth daily to sustain the wounded.220 On another occasion, she noted that "the Females here are all employed making Barrack Sheets; there is a requisition for loopair." 221 After the war was over, a new society was incorporated on 18 October 1817 for the Relief of Strangers in Distress. It was organized on the model of the Scots Society founded in the 17705 in Norwich by Anne's father. Their first project was the assistance of a young mother of twins who had been deserted by her husband. Among other things, it was "her extreme propriety of manner" that attracted the benevolence of the society. "Eliza was requested by Mr

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Strachan the Treasurer to give $50 to her in the first donation of a Society formed by her Grandfather." This was very pleasing indeed to Anne. "No compliment could be more grateful to my fillial reverence," she explained.222 The arrival of Sir Peregrine and Lady Sarah Maitland at about this time gave a great boost to charitable impulses. They were a very religious couple, and Sir Peregrine was a devoted church-goer. "The conduct of his excellent Lady is no less praiseworthy," one observer noted. "She gives encouragement and support to numerous benevolent institutions. The Sunday Schools established at York have, in particular, engaged her attention, and we are told that she has oftener than once distributed rewards to the deserving with her own hands.""3 Eliza was one of those who taught at the Sunday School, along with her sister Anne and their niece Mary. John Strachan, in noting their contribution with approval, added that the Maitlands "interest themselves exceedingly in promoting the advancement of true religion."224 Lady Sarah was also very likely the driving force behind the establishment of the Society for the Relief of Poor Women in Childbirth in 1820. She was its "patroness" and founding member along with "Mrs Chief Justice Powell," Mrs Strachan, "Mrs Colonel Foster," and "Mrs Attorney General." Evidently, such charitable activities were seen as the proper sphere of activity for the leading ladies of York. Thirtythree of them gave donations to the society, which in the first year of its operation assisted sixteen destitute women."5 Eliza was also active in this organization. "Eliza and [her niece] Anne are gone to make purchases for the Charity and the young ladies meet here tomorrow," recorded her mother.226 Especially after returning from England in 1829, Eliza became even more involved in volunteer activity. Lady Colborne, following the example of her predecessor, was also very keen on sponsoring good works. She is reputed to have provided red flannel for the ladies of York to sew into clothes for the poor.2"7 She also sponsored at Government House the first bazaar to be held in Upper Canada. Beginning in 1830, it became an annual event and was the only organized charity until a House of Industry was founded by public subscription in 1837 in a house granted by the City of York.228 The bazaars were amazingly successful. At the first one, eight hundred and forty dollars was raised from the sale of handiwork and baking. "This success speaks well of the industry of York Ladies," observed Anne, "as well as the increase in the number of respectable families."229 Each year Eliza was "much engaged in the affair."230 One year in particular, her mother noted that "her time is

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totally occupied in dispensing charity from the fund arising from the bazaar. The dining parlour is this day filled with Blankets Flannels etc, and the Hall crowded with applicants. Yesterday till four o'clock was passed in the Vestry Room, to receive testimonials of proper objects of Charity."231 As the daughter of a former chief justice, Eliza was a leading member of York society. Her charitable activities were a fitting public occupation for a single woman of her position. Privately too, Eliza devoted herself to helping others in a variety of ways. She was always very much involved with Mary's children. For several months during one year, her three nieces came over every day to be taught by her. She was "gratified by the conviction of usefulness to her Sisters Children."232 Her nieces' children also benefited from her care. "Eliza is passing a few days at Rosedale [with her niece Mary]," wrote Anne, "a great delight to the dear little Girls who are both fond of her."233 As always, she was indispensable in a crisis. Whenever anyone in the family was ill, Eliza "the indefatigable Aunt"834 was called for. Indeed, she barely had time to be ill herself. "Happily," her mother wrote when Eliza was suffering from toothache, "the different branches of the family are so well as to allow her to take care of herself.""35 However busy she was with her charitable work, nursing the sick in her family, and helping to raise her sister's and nieces' children, Eliza's first priority was her mother and their immediate household. When her mother was quite old, Eliza's niece Anne and her husband and baby moved into the same house with them. Eliza's life, as her mother noted, was then even more "a scene of active exertion ... [with] the greater share of domestic arrangements with very insufficient Servants." "However," the elder Anne pointed out, "she cheerfully performs her part and is in excellent health.""36 Her family responsibilities were "a tax on her activity which she has endured with that perseverance which marks her character and for which I humbly hope and pray she will meet her reward," wrote her grateful mother.237 Anne was acutely aware of the burden that her advanced age and failing health placed on her daughter. On one occasion typical of many, although her mother urged her to go on an excursion, Eliza refused. "She sacrifices her health and pleasure to alleviate the discomforts of solitude to which my deafness subjects me," Anne related. "God reward her for this performance of fillial duty."238 She was also concerned that Eliza receive some benefit on this earth as well, and so left all of her property to her. "My removal will place in Eliza's hands power she will use for the good of all," Anne confidently predicted."39 Before her death in

237 Limitations of "Woman's Sphere" 1849, she arranged to have a small house built for Eliza as well, so that she would be independent and in her own home, not having to rely on the good will of her relatives.240 At the time of her mother's death, Eliza was sixty years old. Her habits of service to others were too well ingrained, however, for her to use her new-found time and money for her own benefit. When her niece Anne's family moved to Edinburgh for a time in 1853, sne accompanied them in order to be of some assistance. The whole of the younger generation, in fact, viewed her as a source of ready cash and baby-sitting. Mary's son, Samuel Peters Jarvis and his wife, Renee, were living England, where he was attending Sandhurst military college, and were glad when their Aunt Eliza came to call. Sam's father had been very annoyed at his inability to live on the allowance he provided him with.24' Generous Aunt Eliza was therefore a welcome visitor. "Aunt Eliza came over to spend xmas with us," Sam wrote to his mother. "She seems to like staying with us, and appeared quite happy and pleased with everything. I wish she would remain with us, as I like to have her." Evidently Elizabet was no stuffy maiden aunt. "She plays cards with us, and has suppers, and brandys and waters, and raw nips, and plays loo like a four year old." But even more important, "She got 150 pounds sent her ... the other day. ... [and] Aunt Eliza gave Ellen and Renee each fifteen pounds out of the money ... a handsome present. She is a good old lady."242 Sam appears to have been fond of his aunt, but he also did appreciate her money. Soon after visiting him, Eliza was forced to apply to her administrator for more funds. "He will be surprised at my wanting more after what he sent me, and I don't like to tell him I gave some to Sam," she explained to her sister; "I dont think Sam would like it."243 Sam himself was indignant at the exploitation of his aunt that he felt everyone else, especially his cousins the Gwynnes, inflicted on her. "In my opinion Mrs G. treats her in a very unfeeling manner. ... We have several times endeavoured to induce her to stay with us and be comfortable ... but she never will, being afraid to. ... Aunt Eliza is good and simple, and so easily managed that she is the perfect victim." Sam wrote that his sister Ellen Bernard was "quite indignant about it," but Ellen, too, had plans for dear old Aunt Eliza.244 Her husband had recently accepted a posting to India, and they were delighted when Eliza volunteered to look after their children for the time that they would be there. This was too much for Sam and Ellen's mother, Mary, who wrote protesting such an imposition. "I am sorry and so is Ellen at your so entirely disapproving of her leaving the children. They had determined not to go unless they

238 Transmission of Female Gender Roles

could place them under good care and I flatter myself that while they are with me they will have good care," Eliza explained to Mary. "It is not like leaving them for ten or 15 years. Mr Bernard does not mean to stay over four or five years."245 Fate intervened, however, to prevent Eliza from taking on such a great responsibility. It is unclear exactly when Eliza discovered the lump in her breast. By the spring 0^1854, it was causing her some pain, and she consulted a doctor. He was evasive in giving his diagnosis, telling her to "bathe it with hot water or sugar of lead in hot water, to keep very quiet; that it would never go away or be cured; that cutting would only make it worse; even to take off the breast, which I proposed; he said he did not think it would ever become a cancer."846 Eliza knew in her heart that the doctor was hedging. She consulted another physician in London, who was franker but still prevaricated. He "did not try to conceal from me that it was or would be cancer, but he said, there are worse deaths, and that I may live loor 15 years, and die of something else." Eliza pledged her sister to secrecy, as she tried to come to grips with this news. "You will not wonder after what I tell you that I do not think of keeping house again," she wrote; "therefore I do not see why you should not have all my furniture, or as much as you require ... for I care little about anything of the kind now."247 She vacillated between hope and fear. "You will be glad to hear that I am much better," she wrote a few weeks later, "and sometimes almost hope I may have been mistaken."248 Soon, however, the alarming symptoms returned. "Who am I to believe?" she wrote to her sister. Her doctor said "that it was not what was called cancer, but that he could not say whether it would ultimately turn to it or not." His lack of forthrightness did not fool her. "It seems such a mockery for me to be getting dresses made up," she wrote in anguish.249 Under the circumstances, Eliza could not possibly have taken responsibility for Ellen's children, and she returned to York. There her condition deteriorated, and she died late in the year 1855, just before her sixty-seventh birthday, nursed to the end by her sister Mary. "Thankful are we that she was allowed to pass away with so little bodily suffering at the last," wrote her nephew Sam.1*50 As usual, Elizabeth had thought of others, and her will, according to her sister, was characteristic of "her usual kind consideration and generosity."251 The faithful daughter who had fulfilled all her duties so well and so willingly outlived her mother by only six years. Although Elizabeth, like her sister Anne, was not to fulfil her female destiny of marriage and motherhood like Mary, she was able to construct a life that had meaning for her. Eliza's life may appear

239 Limitations of "Woman's Sphere"

bleak from our perspective today, but for her it was a satisfying and useful existence, created out of the materials that came to hand. Its limitations had less to do with her ingenuity than with the restricted sphere to which she was confined. Her activities of nursing the sick, assisting other women in her family to run their households and raise their children, and performing charitable works were all extensions of the domesticity required of women of the Upper Canadian elite. This role required a willingness to live one's life in service to others. Anne, who was temperamentally unsuited to such a sacrificial existence, was unable to find any other useful sphere of activity. In fact, had Elizabeth not been supported financially by her parents, she would have been forced to become a domestic slave to any other family willing to take her in, as her mother had feared. Her existence, then was probably more fulfilling and satisfying than that of other women. Certainly she enjoyed more freedom, spare time, and autonomy than did her married sister, Mary. The lives of Anne Powell's three daughters - Anne, Elizabeth, and Mary - reveal the limited range of options open to women of the upper classes in early Ontario. The rhetoric of "True Womanhood" could translate in practice into a stifling and confined existence. The support of other women was vital for female survival in the domestic sphere, yet this close female world could also result in a kind of oppression. Eliza's entire life was sacrificed to domestic labour for other women, and Anne, who rejected this role, suffered ostracism. Of the sisters, Mary achieved female "success" by marrying a man of her class and assuming the heavy burdens of motherhood; Anne was unable to submit to the limitations of a woman's sphere and consequently became a social outcast; and Elizabeth accepted and embraced her restricted role with creative enthusiasm. The narrow range of options open to all three illustrates, among other things, the ruling elite's importation into Upper Canada of rigid genderdefined notions of separate spheres for male and female activity.

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PART FOUR Conclusion

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10 "A Solitary Tree Shorn of Its Branches": Old Age

Anne Murray Powell survived her husband William by fifteen years. She passed the remainder of her days, as she wished, in York (renamed Toronto in 1834) surrounded by her ever-growing family. She died on 10 March 1849, at the age of ninety-three. As a grandparent, Anne had more time and emotional and financial resources than she had possessed as a young mother of eight children. Typical of Anne's expressions of affection to her grandchildren was the letter that she wrote in 1827 to her daughter Mary's son, "Sammy," while she and William were in England. She thanked him for his "very nice letter, of which I am not a little proud, for it pleases me to know I am not forgotten by dear Willy, George and yourself, and makes me hope that you will teach dear Ellen to talk of 'Grandmama.' " She imagined how nice it would be "if you were all running about as you used to do in Grandpapa's Garden. ... You will believe me, my dearest little Boy, that altho my Lame fingers prevent my writing plainly I am while I live and you are a good Boy, shall be your ever affectionate Grandmother."1 Evidently Sammy missed his grandmother as well. "Sam has set his heart on seeing Grand Mamma in the spring," said his cousin Mary.2 Anne's granddaughters, too, were the objects of her attention and affection. "Augusta is a very fine disposed Child," she noted of Mary's daughter in 1835. "As to little Caroline she is with us the most attractive docile little creature I ever saw. ... Her beautiful countenance bears the strongest resemblance to my dear sister Anna Powell."3 Mary and Anne, the daughters of her son William, had been the recipi-

244 Conclusion

ents of the greatest share of whatever their grandmother could give them financially and emotionally and their children were correspondingly indulged. "Little pet Nanny was with us," Anne wrote of Mary's eldest child, "to her own great pleasure, and our amusement. This is her favorite residence, and she to us so endeared ... that all seek to have her with them. Her G. Father says she is a highly gifted Child, and were you to see her intelligent countenance and hear her observations you would think so. The little one they say is quite equal to her Sister. ... Finer Children no woman can possess."4 Granddaughter Anne's daughter was also considered to be a superior "intelligent little Girl, who is certainly the most entertaining Child I ever saw. I wish my dear sister [in law]," Anne wrote to her brother George, "could see her in the midst of her dolls; performing all the offices of an old Nurse - with the gravity of the character."5 As her grandchildren grew up, Anne maintained close ties with all of them. "I have cause to be, and am therefore thankful," she noted in 1835, "for the uniform kindness of those upon whom I have a natural claim." Only her grandson John, his father's namesake, "treats me with marked neglect to the discomfort of his Mother and Wife more than mine." John gave as his reason "the fear that attention should be supposed to originate in selfish motives," of seeking a larger share of inheritance than his cousins. "It is well that all my other G Children are fearless of such a suspicion," Anne observed dryly, "or I should be left to myself. "b John later made it up with his grandmother, and he and the other young male grandchildren were, as well as the girls, Anne's constant visitors, calling on her and later writing when they had grown up and left Toronto. "I greatly miss the visits of these youths," Anne remarked in 1842, when at least three of her grandsons had left home to find their way in the world.7 Once her husband had died, leaving Anne in full control of the family finances, she was able to use these resources to benefit her offspring. Certainly this money put her in a position of potentially great power and control within her family. Her grandson-in-law William Jarvis recognized this when he wrote to her: "I feel that to you only am I called upon to explain my intentions in matters in which your Grand-daughter and my childrens happiness and comfort are alone concerned."8 Yet it does not appear that Anne used this power in a negative or manipulative manner. Instead, she did what she could to assist her offspring. "My latter days would be cheered by knowing that all in whose welfare I am deeply interested were free from embarrassment," she commented. "The most urgent is my widowed Grand Daughter Ann Jane. She is literally left not

245 Old Age

only a penniless Widow, but called to provide for the payments [for the debts] incurred by her late unfortunate Husband."9 Anne was anxious, too, for the fate of her sister Mary Browne's single daughter, left alone without income after nursing her sick father for years before his death. She was in a "dependent situation ... left entirely destitute," Anne observed. "Both Eliza and myself feel it a duty as well as [an] inclination to meet her needs, and to remove all painful dependence irksome to her quiet spirit."10 Even the wayward grandson John was able to sufficiently overcome his scruples to accept preferred treatment from his grandmother. He had run up huge debts which necessitated selling off his home to meet the demands of his creditors. "His Wife brought him a handsome portion which he has squandered," Anne wrote disapprovingly. "At his death she would be left pennyless."" "Her fortune ... ought to have been secured to her." Rather than directly assisting such a spendthrift, Anne instead helped John's wife. "I have given his Wife a building Lot on the College Avenue, to put up a small House as a shelter for them and their six Children."12 Anne's generosity, however, did not extend to depleting her financial capital. "I have never deviated from the resolution, to preserve the whole of the estate given to me by my lamented Husband, free from reduction, and from time unimpaired in value," she asserted.'3 It is not clear exactly how much money William had left her in addition to his property holdings, but it was sufficient for her to invest and produce an overall income, including her annuity, of £400 a year. Even with her sound financial means, Anne was horrified at the prospect of her own physical and mental decay. She could not forget die slow and painful death of her husband. As she approached extreme old age, such a potential fate became more and more fearful to her. "Was I to judge of others from my own feelings, I should say that the instant of perfect dependence on those around us would be the last in which we should desire its continuance," she wrote to George. "When it pleases God to take from me the power to be useful to others and assist myself, I humbly trust a speedy removal will save me from the miseries of perfect dependence, even on those in whose affectionate care and solicitude, I have a natural and acquired right to confide."'4 Yet she had a remarkably long and healthy old age. When she officially passed the threshold of old age at sixty-three, what was then known as the "grand climacteric,"15 she told George that she "wished to announce my having entered my 64th year in as good or perhaps better health than is usually enjoyed at that advanced period of life. In old times, the

246 Conclusion

Grand Climacteric was considered as a dangerous period, in the present more enlightened age, such opinions are considered the effect of ignorance or superstition; I will not attempt to decide whether ancient or modern is better informed on this subject." Still, Anne asserted, "I am grateful for the health I enjoy; and earnestly beseech our heavenly Father, to grant me ability to perform the various duties of my station, until he is graciously pleased to remove me to a better world."'6 In her early seventies Anne observed that "I am as I ought to be thankful for the more than usual share of health and strength afforded to me; and more than all that, that I retain mental power to prevent becoming a burden, or what is as bad a Bore to others. The latter is so frequently the prevalent infirmity of old age." "You will smile perhaps" she wrote jokingly to George, "and pronounce me now giving a specimen of what I profess to fear."17 Almost eight years later, at eighty-one, she was still independent, although she complained that "Triffling calls for attention frequently bewilder me, and I dread incapacity to perform the daily duties yet incumbent upon me."'8 Yet aside from the aches and pains of rheumatism, growing deafness, and occasional shortness of breath and palpitations, Anne survived a serious and mysterious stomach ailment in her late seventies to enjoy good health for many more years. At eighty-eight, she wrote that, although "My greatest personal discomfort arises from want of sleep, and inability to move with alacrity," she was still quite self-sufficient. "I thank my merciful Father that tho' a drawback I am not an absolute dead weight on the comfort of those around me.'"9 Anne was not satisfied with merely passively watching the advance of old age and infirmity. Soon after William's death she began to assess realistically the state in which she found herself. She was well aware that, as she grew increasingly feeble, she would not be able to preside as mistress over her household as she was used to doing. The only alternative open to her was living with one of her children. This type of strategy for dealing with the problem of aging parents who could not care for themselves was common but did not always prove to be an ideal arrangement for Upper Canadian families. Anne's granddaughter Mary, for example, was forced to abide the presence of an irascible old father-in-law in her home during the early years of her marriage to William Botsford Jarvis. William complained to his brother George that their father's "conduct to Mary is such that it is not to be borne he takes every opportunity of my absence to insult her not daring to do it in my presence." When he was challenged on this behaviour, he reacted angrily and, William noted, "has for some time most resolutely

247 Ok* Age

observed a solemn silence at home and has shut himself up in his room except at meal times." Since the winter was almost over, they hoped for some relief. "I sincerely hope he -will favour some of you with his presence this summer until he gets as tired of you as he usually does and is glad to get back where I venture to say he is as comfortable as at any other place," William concluded.80 Anne was only too well aware of this particular instance of old age being a heavy family burden. She was reluctant to subject her own children to such inconvenience and herself to such humiliating dependence. She was also, as always, concerned for the happiness of her faithful Eliza. As she explained to her brother George, "I have Eliza's comfort to consider which is too much combined with my own to admit a seperation. She cheerfully withdraws from society rather than condemn me to solitude."21 Should she sell her house and rent another, a smaller one that would be less trouble to keep? Anne was unable to decide on the best course of action for her and Eliza's future. During this period of indecision, the two women rattled around a house that had once been a major focus of York elite social and political life and had been enlarged to suitably accommodate large groups. With her characteristic energy and cheerfulness, Eliza set out to remedy this emptiness while helping her harried sister, Mary. She set up a schoolroom for Mary's three daughters in her mother's home and arranged for them to come there daily. They were very active and energetic children, and their grandmother found their presence hard to deal with at times. "I sometimes regret the interruption to my quiet to which a sense of duty subjects me," she complained to George.28 "The constant bustle of Children renders it no kindness to invite an inmate in my present establishment," she wrote a year later. "It is to be hoped my sacrifice of the small portion of comfort I could under any circumstances experience, will be ultimately beneficial to the Children, but I have sometimes my doubts."23 "I feel my mind most cruelly harassed," she wrote on another occasion. "I shall probably be under the necessity of relinquishing the care and expence of a home establishment and become a Boarder. The thought of bidding adieu to a residence endeared by various recollections is dreadful, but it is perhaps the lesser evil."24 This appeared to be her only choice, since turning the children out was not possible if family accord was to be preserved. Clearly, having a household of young children was not the way to resolve the problem of how she was to live out her widowed old age, creating as it did more problems than it solved. "My life is divided between perfect solitude or irksome confusion," she com-

248 Conclusion

plained to George. After the death of William, "The destruction of worldly happiness, attended by acute mental suffering, so entirely engaged my mind as to blind me to the consequences I might have anticipated, and induced me to believe that by assuming a duty beneficial to others, would best tend to relieve the agonizing reminiscences of an irreparable loss. That this assumption of responsibility has been beneficial to the young ones I have no doubt," she conceded, "and indeed such is the devoted attention of their Aunt that it cannot well be otherwise, nor do I believe they are upon the whole more troublesome than others at their age." Anne recognized that the problem was largely a product of her own lessened tolerance. "Forty years ago, what is now to me an interruption would have been unheeded, and considered as a matter of course. The discovery that it is now otherwise is useless, a change if effected could no longer secure ease, as the fear of injury to those who have a rational claim upon my kindness and affection would embitter every moment of my existence." This brought not only discomfort but guilt. "I believe I am wrong in saying all this even to my dearest and confidential Friend and Brother; but the bustle of preparing for a Children's water party to the Humber has induced me to, perhaps, an imprudent communication."25 Fortunately, this situation was eventually resolved happily by other measures being taken to educate Mary's daughters. This still left Anne with the problem of her declining ability and inclination to run a large household, her desire to make Eliza as free as possible, her attachment to her home, and her desire not to compromise her own sense of independence. Samuel Peters Jarvis, with characteristic concern for her welfare, offered to build on an addition to his and Mary's home to accommodate her, but she was unwilling to become a burden on their household and possibly sacrifice her own tranquillity and independence. Finally, what seemed to be the ideal strategy was hit upon. Her granddaughter Anne, recently married to Dr Gwynne, did not have a home of her own. "We are therefore endeavouring to devise a plan," Anne reported, "which will give them possession of this dwelling, they taking the whole charge, Eliza and I living as boarders, allowing them the use of the House, Furniture and [rent of] $800 per Annm; the Dr to make such alterations and improvements as he thinks proper; this is the outline." This generous plan seemed at the time to be the ideal solution. "If such an arrangement can be effected," Anne pointed out, "it will rid me of the trouble of Housekeeping, and all anxiety concerning the means, and whatever expence is incurred in the premises will be for their own ultimate benefit."*6 Indeed, she was

249 Old Age

happy to report soon after they had moved in that granddaughter Anne "and her good Man are desirous to make me comfortable; and ... I shall be as much so as increasing deafness will permit."27 Both parties may have been too optimistic. Less than two years later, Anne, then eighty-three, complained that the situation had not turned out the way she had hoped. "Tho" my income is greatly diminished I have yet the means of living," she told George; "Tho' if I survive another season I shall be compelled to change my residence, and let my House and premises on a repairing Lease, as everything is now going to ruin. Neither the Dr or Anne understand the care necessary to preserve what is good or to repair what is defective."28 "Was it not for the conviction that Anne is not equal either in health or capacity to contend with the cares of a family," her grandmother asserted a year later, "I should let my House and seek an asylum on more reasonable terms than those in which I now live at present."29 Finally, five years after the Gwynnes had moved in with her, Anne could report that "we are now experiencing the discomforts of Carpenters and Masons to keep the House from falling to pieces."30 Still, Anne was not prepared at the age of eighty-six to consider seriously the idea of moving elsewhere. Her daughter Mary reiterated the offer to have her move into her home, but was perhaps not too disappointed when it was refused. "I think you are right in not pressing your mother to take up her abode with you," concurred her husband Samuel. "Unless such a step emanated from herself freely and voluntarily it is probable she would feel dissatisfied before she had been long in the house."3' Adding to Anne's unhappiness with her living arrangements was her sense of having lost some financial flexibility and independence. An old lawsuit of her husband's was finally settled in 1843, nine years after William's death, in favour of the heirs of his opponent. Given that Anne refused to diminish his estate, she was forced to pay the costs out of her own income, leaving her very short of ready cash. "I could not now command the trifling sum of £5 and am living on credit," she complained to George. "Money is not to be obtained: my arrangement with the Dr was according to what I then considered my permanent means, but it was made and I cannot propose a reduction. ... My income was nearly £400 pr Annm, it is now scarcely £300; 200 of which I pay for my own and Eliza living in my own house [to Dr Gwynne]; between 30 and 40 of that 100, is expended in meeting various claims, so that after providing for my simple mourning habiliments little remains unclaimed."32 Anne's commitments to assist her granddaughter Ann Jane and her niece Mary Browne were among the pressing "various claims" on her

250 Conclusion

income that she felt that she could not relinquish. At times, she was unable to meet her payments to Dr Gwynne as promptly as she had intended. There is no evidence that this was a concern to him, but Anne, with her almost obsessive desire to be independent, found it galling. "My actual situation is such that I am in real want of the means of meeting engagements," she wrote at eighty-eight. "It is mortifying to be indebted to Dr Gwynne for my food and Lodging without a prospect of remunerating him."33 Not all aspects of life in their multi-generational household were so distressing to Anne, however. Her relationship to her granddaughter Anne and her husband William Gwynne was friendly and when they introduced a baby girl, Anna, into the family, she was delighted. Anna was "Clever and amusing,"34 wrote the doting great-grandmother, "the Pet I may say Governess of the family."35 Yet, even concerning this beloved child, there were differences of opinion. Anne felt that the little girl would "be injured by too unlimited indulgence. She is old enough to know herself the first object of consideration and takes advantage of it." When Anne was nearly six years old, Anne felt she was growing up too free and undisciplined, "very much neglected in what is considered early education."36 Given these family tensions, it is not surprising that granddaughter Anne and her husband took measures to provide themselves with a break from their domestic pressures. Dr Gwynne "had the cottage on his Farm," some property he had recently acquired, "fitted up for the reception of Anne and the little Girl. They have been residing there the last month," wrote Anne in August of 1842. Dr Gwynne's excuse was to promote his wife's health by moving her to a cooler location, but this may have been only part of his motivation. Certainly the elder Anne was not happy with the arrangement. "This deprives me of almost my only source of amusement, in watching the busy and ever changing movements of the little one," she complained. Furthermore, "by this the charge of the family devolves on Eliza, whose repugnance to leave me in absolute solitude keeps her more at home than she ought to be."37 More than anything else, it was the imposition on Eliza's freedom that bothered her mother. She was, Anne lamented, "exposed to the alternative of staying at home or leaving me at home alone, an alternative my arrangement was designed to avert."38 In a society that made no provision for the care of the aged outside of the private sphere, there were no other real alternatives to the family taking responsibility for an older person. Today, we often idealize the multi-generational households of a past when institutional

251 Old Age

alternatives and social services were unavailable. Clearly, in at least one household, such an arrangement was far from ideal, although it very likely appeared harmonious to all outside observers. "In an evil hour I gave up my own House" was Anne's concluding comment on the arrangement.39 Perhaps the greatest drawback of her old age to Anne was not the conflict with the younger generation but the sense of isolation from her own. Although she increasingly disliked crowds and bustle, she was fond of visiting and of intimate conversation. Her grandchildren, however dear to her, could not provide what she so sorely missed. Even before William's death, she felt herself growing increasingly lonely. Living to a ripe old age had its disadvantages as former friends and social contacts grew infirm and died. Anne longed for the infrequent visits of her beloved younger brother George. When he came to see her in 1831, when she was seventysix, his visit was followed by a sense of emptiness. "I had not resolution to attend the Bazaar the day you left me; the solitude of my drawing room was preferable to a crowd," Anne wrote to George, "and complete solitude it proved. ... Indeed I did feel forlorn, when my bit of cold Lamb was brought up on a waiter, and cut with indifference merely to satisfy natural cravings."40 "How different is this from last winter," she lamented the following December. "Instead of the cheerful fireside blessed by your presence my Dearest Friends, Mr P and myself pass our evenings in solitude; he unable to see to read, and I as little able to understand when he recapitulates his grievances. ... What a comfort would it be to speak instead of writing to you."4' After William's death, Anne's sense of isolation grew. The first wedding anniversary without him was particularly heartbreaking. "This day fifty-nine years united us in indissoluable bonds which by the hand of the Almighty are severed," she mourned. "The joy of our then young hearts has vanished, the overwhelming grief of the wretched survivor, forms an agonizing contrast." "Your sister," she told George, "is the only survivor of all assembled on that eventful day."4" "Every act of my widowed life brings forth these reminiscences," she wrote at a later date, "and must do so, until it is the will of the Almighty to reunite us, in a World that passeth not away."43 "The natural attachment to life and the dread of the hereafter renders the approach of death formidable," she told George. Nevertheless, "For me the World has no attractions, in fact I feel myself alone in it. Deprived of my best Blessing, all is dark and dismal. Yet why should I give you pain by these useless regrets. The only relief afforded to me has been your and my dear Sisters

252 Conclusion

society."44 "Happy would it be for me if you were near enough to aid me by your disinterested advice," Anne wrote to George almost five years after William's death. "I at times feel so isolated to be useless to my self or any human being."45 Although she acknowledged that it would "be unjust to my numerous family were I not to express my sense of their uniform and kind solicitude to promote my comfort," she felt the lack of companions of her own age very keenly.46 "I feel like a solitary tree shorn of its Branches, surrounded by young shoots, which must support its falling limbs."47 Connected with this sense of having lost her ties with her own generation was a feeling of uselessness. Once the mistress of a large and active household, Anne was increasingly becoming a passive bystander in life. At eighty-four years of age in 1839, she described a typical day's activity: "Sleep forsakes my Pillow before six o'clock; before 7 I leave it, after my simple Toilet, thanks to the Almighty for preservation thro' the night and my past life, with reading the service of the day employ my time till Breakfast soon after 9 o'clock." The rest of the day passed slowly. "That over I retire to my apartment, and pass my time sometimes in a walk in our Garden, admiring the improved intelligence of our playful Baby or reading while my head and eyes permit - occasional calls from the younger part of my family, or visitors fill up the time till 4 o'clock; a drive after dinner, shortens the Eveng and so closes my useless day."48 Anne was fortunate in being more vigorous than many at her age. At eighty-six she was, she related, "able to take an hours walk in the Evening when we do not drive out" to visit her daughter-in-law Ellen Shaw Powell.49 Although her outdoor activity was severely curtailed during the winter months, at the age of eightynine she was still able to walk on the second-floor gallery surrounding her house.50 Far more isolating than her lack of physical mobility was her increasing deafness. "Deafness condemns me to solitude," Anne lamented, "and it is not unusual to pass the greater portion of my time without hearing the sound of my own voice."5' Adding to Anne's sense of isolation and alienation, and on top of the changes in her own private world, were those in the society which surrounded her. Little York had become the dramatically growing city of Toronto by the 18305. Some idea of the size of early York society can be judged by Anne's comment in 1820. "The increase of our society would surprise you," she wrote to George, describing a ball and supper held at Government House the previous evening. "There were more than thirty well-dressed Females, and more than a Dozen absent."52 By the time Toronto was incorporated as a city in 1834, there were at least 9,000 inhabitants,

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compared to 1,817 m 1827. This addition was almost entirely made up of immigrants. As Paul Romney has pointed out, "This made York a new place. In 1834, the capital must have been almost as much a sea of strange faces to the old inhabitants as it was to the newest comer."53 Such dramatic growth brought with it social change that was not always easy for Anne to accept. As the wife of the chief justice of Upper Canada, we have seen, Anne had stood in social ranking second only to the wife of the lieutenant-governor. Even after William's death, her status was recognized in small but important ways. In 1836, during the change of lieutenant-governors, Anne was named "nominal Patroness" of a Bazaar for the poor, "lending my name till the arrival of Lady Head, when I resign."54 Still, Anne felt increasingly an outsider in elite social circles. "Lady Head arrived last week; and I suppose visitation to the Govt House will soon be the fashion," she reported. "I feel myself so out of date and stupid, as to render it doubtful whether I shall make the necessary exertion."55 Not only did she feel on the outside of the social world; the increased population and urbanization of Toronto brought with it alien social and political forces. She was distressed, for example, by the "erection of an Emigrant House directly opposite to mine. It is a great nuisance, and diminishes the value of the property loopr ct. To increase the evil a Kitchen adjoins it therefore in a southerly wind we shall be regaled by the smoke and by the smell of the Cookery, where probably the chief ingredient will be onions."56 Connected with the growth of the immigrant population was the creation of a whole new class of urban poor, who became the recipients of the first organized charities. Anne feared and distrusted this new element that had been introduced into Toronto life. "Such is the depravity of the lower class," she commented darkly, "that I hear precautions used to prevent imposition will be ineffectual, and that charity in many cases will prove rather an encouragement to vice than relief from poverty."57 More disturbing to Anne than even these suspected abuses of charity were the new political forces pushing for reform. On every point she opposed their proposals. "The great bone of contention with the Radical Minority is the disposal of the Clergy Reserves," she noted in 1836. "Every effort is made to deprive the Episcopal Church of the provision made for its support at the division of the province of Quebec into Upper and Lower Canada. ... It is the fashion to rob the Church and reduce the Ministers of the Gospel to the condition little better than a day labourer.'"38 She was, from the start, staunch in her support of Sir Francis Bond Head, asserting

254 Conclusion

that "he will be the most popular Governor ... yet known."59 Anne was among those who rejoiced when the reformers were defeated in the elections of 1836, "rejected by their late constituents with every mark of contempt."60 Still, she watched with trepidation as social unrest grew in Lower Canada and with increasing fear as it became clear that the radicals, though defeated, were still very active in her own province. When the rebels marched down Yonge Street late in 1837, she anticipated "all the horrors of a civil war. ... Independent of that spirit of Loyalty which can be extinguished but with my life, I am vulnerable in innumerable points and I daily feel less able to contend with difficulty and danger." Proposals to evacuate women and children from the city frightened her. "For me it is out of the question," she pointed out. "I have neither health nor breath for such an exertion, even was I willing to leave all that is precious to me." The remembrance of other wars fought over the issue of loyalty to the Crown and the hierarchical order it stood for arose in her mind. "Youth and strength supported me, under Providence, thro' the horrors of 1775, and 1813," she recalled. "I am now possessed of neither mental or bodily exertion, pray for me that my heavenly Father may support me thro' whatever it may be His holy will to inflict."6' Once more, the men in Anne's family were called upon to take up arms, her grandson John in particular achieving distinction by shooting a rebel leader and warning the city of impending attack. Anne now began to feel that Sir Francis Bond Head was responsible for the crisis. "However praiseworthy his subsequent conduct may have been," she noted once the immediate danger was past, "he most undoubtedly failed in his duty when he permitted the Rebellion to assume its alarming aspect without any preparation to meet it."6a She was relieved when it was so easily put down, showing "That Upper Canada is the most brave and loyal Colony in ... [England's] Dominions."63 The intervention of rebel supporters from the United States was shocking to her, behaviour which "degrades it among civilized Nations. The unprovoked attacks on a people with whom it was avowedly in a state of peace and amity and the outrage originating in the support of a few worthless Rebels will scarcely meet with credit from the just and honorable."64 Anne, like many other loyal Upper Canadians, expected Great Britain to inflict swift and just retribution on her disloyal subjects. When instead Lord Durham wrote a report criticizing the way in which the "Family Compact" had governed the colony, she was outraged. Particularly galling to her were accusations directed against William. This, Anne contended, was "A slander which Lord Durham on his Report has attached to the memory of my ill used

255 Old Age

Husband, in naming him as the purchaser of Land from the early Settlers with a Gallon of Rum or at most £5." Anne was indignant at the injustice of this accusation. "The known integrity of his Character ought to have secured him from the charge of conduct he most severely condemned in the officers of the King's Government." She had hoped that their British relatives would publish a refutation of Durham but admitted that their reaction to her request gave her "little, indeed, hope of compliance with this natural and earnest wish; tho' I cannot but think that the respect of the connexions calls for it." Again, she felt isolated. "No one but myself feels these circumstances; or think that when the multitude is slandered as in this famous Report the character of an individual is important."65 Anne had always staunchly defended her husband and been proud of his high standards. It was humiliating and frustrating for her to see him thus maligned with no means of countering what she saw as slander. The pardoning of the rebels and the subsequent unified government of the Canadas, in Anne's opinion, completed the bad work that Durham had begun. "The meeting of the Legislature has been attended by the most extraordinary consequences. The best and most loyal subjects of the Queen have been removed from the service of Govt and replaced by known and avowed Rebels," she complained to George in 1842. This had "placed all power in the hands of the French Radicals, in terms most undignified and to the utter disgust of all loyal subjects. Such is the result of the ill judged union of the Provinces."66 Anne was relieved that William had not lived to see his name slandered and traitors and rebels rewarded. The old conservative and stiffly hierarchical social order that they had together led politically and socially had gone forever. The new and increasingly egalitarian society that followed the Rebellion would have been as disturbing and alienating to him, she felt, as it was to her. These changes made her uneasy. "We have a bad set of characters amongst us," she noted in 1841, expressing her alienation from the new society that Toronto had become.67 Even more upsetting to Anne was the certain knowledge that some of these "bad characters" had found their way into her own circle. "Disgrace attended by every aggravation has fallen upon this devoted family," she wrote with shock in the summer of 1839 when she learned that her granddaughter "Elizabeth has been engaged in an intrigue while living with her Husband in London [Upper Canada], and the night before last left him her three lovely Girls her Mother, Brother and Sisters, joined her paramour, and passed the night with him."68 The consequence of this elopement, as has

256 Conclusion

already been noted, was the unthinkable disgrace of a divorce in the family, Mr Stuart suing Mr Grogan, "the destroyer of his domestic happiness," for damages of £i,ooo.69 All of this was extremely upsetting to Anne. As she explained to George, "I writhe under that which casts a stain upon my family. We are become objects of scorn or of pity to those who considered us as desirable associates." Her granddaughter was, however, unrepentant. "The wicked cause of this lamentable change, is the most hardened and unfeeling of depraved beings; and if the Man would receive her, no vigilance would be sufficient to prevent her escape from the dwelling of her miserable mother." Anne's condemnation was in spite of the fact that Grogan "has found it requisite to pledge his word to the Officers of the Regt that so soon as a Divorce can be obtained he will marry the participator in his guilt."70 Stuart was awarded £600 in damages by the courts, forcing John Grogan to sell his commission to pay the sum.7' The divorce itself was not proclaimed until two years after the infidelity took place, since at that time a special piece of legislation was required to end a marriage. Until then, Elizabeth lived with her mother, a circumstance shocking to Anne and other family members. Her aunt "Eliza was there last Eveng but could not ... conceal her disapprobation of the impropriety," Anne asserted. "Every effort should be made to save the unhappy young woman from continued crime, but an asylum should be sought at a distance from those whose peace of mind she has destroyed by her inexcusable infamy."7" Particularly of concern was the reputation of Elizabeth's unmarried younger sister Margaret, who was sent from her mother's home in order not to be tainted by contact with one of such bad reputation. Elizabeth's older sister Charlotte, who had gone with her to visit Grogan in the days before their elopement and who for a time claimed to be engaged to his best friend, and her married eldest sister, Ann Jane, stood by her, however. They resented their Aunt Mary's and Uncle Samuel's condemnation of Elizabeth to the extent that a rift developed in the family. "Ann Jane and Charlotte have used such unjustified language respecting Mr Jarvis," reported Anne, "as renders it impossible for Mary to invite them to her house."73 As soon as the divorce bill was passed, John Grogan married Elizabeth. It is unclear whether he, too, was willing to sacrifice all for love but he had some strong motivations for following through with the marriage. Not only had he promised his commanding officers that he would wed Elizabeth, but, as Anne related, "It seems that man's family is opulent, and he was given to understand that unless he married her, he would be disinherited."7'1 The wayward

257 Old Age

couple departed Toronto, to everyone's relief, soon after their marriage, but only a little more than a year later returned in a very impoverished state, evidently still shunned by Grogan's family. John came back to Toronto first, to test the waters before Elizabeth's arrival. He approached Charlotte, the most sympathetic of the family, who had in the meantime married John Ridout and had become a bit more mindful of her reputation. She turned to her grandmother, as head of the family and source of moral authority, seeking approval for what she wished to do. As Anne related; I was much surprised on Sunday by a Letter from Charlotte stating that while she was at Church Grogan had called and left a Letter from her Sister who expected he would be received by her family as a member of it, and as her Mother was at Guelph asking my advice on the subject. I briefly answered that I had no advice to give, but that for my own part I would as soon receive a Housebreaker or a Murderer as a Man who had inflicted indelible disgrace on a large and respectable family. I hear she took no notice of his visit, which was certainly a prelude to one from his partner in guilt. Mrs G[rant] P[owell] returned home yesterday and I should not be surprised to hear that the arts of these worthless people had succeeded. They are in the most straitened circumstances. Charlotte has much to answer for in this disgraceful affair, and has never regained her place in the most respectable part of this community.75

Grogan's plan was to leave his wife with her family while he returned to Ireland to appeal for some means of support. This put Elizabeth's mother and siblings in a very difficult position. "As they chose to ask my opinion I gave it," wrote her Aunt Mary Jarvis, "and it was that they should never allow him to quit the country without her, as it was more than probable that if he did so they would have her and her child, or children upon their hands altogether, and that it was better ... to defray her expenses than to run such a risk or even to be discredited by her temporary residence."76 Grogan did leave Elizabeth behind, creating a dilemma for her mother. She compromised by not allowing her daughter to live with her or to visit, but went to see her at her lodgings in a hotel. None of the other members of the family would see her except Ann Jane, who shocked her grandmother by not only visiting Elizabeth but "walking arm in arm thro' the streets, to the annoyance of the decent portion of the family who may meet her."77 Anne referred to Elizabeth as the "worthless member of our once respectable family"78 and was finally gratified to report in 1844 that "the unworthy one of our family has gone to Montreal where it is

258 Conclusion

expected she will meet her seducer who had the prospect of a situation in NS Wales; a proper station for both."79 Anne's firm rejection of her granddaughter would in our day be considered cruel, but in fact it reflected the social realities of midnineteenth-century Toronto. It was also the position she had taken on such matters throughout her life. The ostracizing of Elizabeth was consistent with Anne's earlier rejection of Mrs Small. The fact that her own granddaughter was now the offender, rather than arousing her sympathies, only made things worse by casting shame upon the family. As she looked back on her own life, in old age and increasing solitude, she was amazed and grateful that she had escaped a similar fate. The remembrance of the humiliation of her millinery career repeatedly returned to haunt her. "Of our beloved parents I was impressed with the conviction that they were the best and wisest of human beings; the slightest reflection upon them would have roused my then timid spirit to the utmost indignation," she told George. "When I left them at the age of sixteen a perfect Child in mind and manners, I was as ignorant of the plan arranged for my pursuit as the most perfect stranger." "I can only say, it was the will of Parents better able to decide for me, than my Ignorant mind could decide for itself. The transactions of a life of mortification from that period to the hour of my departure from Boston in 1775, would be impossible to detail."80 Anne could only justify her acceptance of such an ill-advised plan by her youth, inexperience, and adherence to the higher virtue of obedience to one's parents. "By the mercy of God," she recalled, "An ignorant childish Girl as I then was escaped from errors to[o] frequently incident to the want of parental protection. Could I give a correct account of the events marking a period of four years, you would not wonder the recollection bewildered my aged and failing mind."8' "In my hours of solitude reflections on the past press upon me," she wrote to George in 1838, "but I have not the power to arrange them in a manner satisfactory to myself or intelligible to you."8* The difficulty of attributing all responsibility to her parents lay in explaining why, as the ideal people that she wished to present them as being, they would take such a step as placing her in a millinery business. "You will not wonder," she related, "at my reluctance to advert to painful scenes, which even a long life has not been capable to obliterate."83 What had sustained Anne through the difficulties she had faced throughout her life was the conviction that there were absolute standards of correct behaviour. All that she had to do was to follow these and all would be well. The power struggle with Lieutenant-Governor Gore over Elizabeth Small had been a battle fought and won over the

259 Old Age

issue of the adherence to rigid rules of propriety. As Anne expressed it in the difficult period toward the end of William's life, "I trust the Almighty will strengthen my mind to ... enable me to perform the duty incumbent upon me, and from which to the best of my recollection I have never wilfully deviated."84 The only way in which Anne could reasonably explain her early Boston experiences without accusing her parents and aunt of being improper and neglectful was to admit that social standards had changed over her lifetime, that at one time such public roles had been acceptable for women and sexual mores comparatively flexible. To admit this would be to concede that there might be no absolute standards upon which to rely for the determination of one's duty and correct behaviour, an unthinkable prospect. George's desire to write a family history brought these "painful scenes" to mind and Anne returned to them again and again, unable to resolve her dilemma. In the end she was forced to sweep the whole problem under the rug; in 1840, at the age of eighty-five, she told George that she wished to see the Letters written by me in early life and to have the feelings by which they were dictated recalled more perfectly to my memory. I am as I could not be otherwise than ignorant of the designs of those beloved friends who governed my actions but I recollect with a degree of horror the exposed situation in which their decisions placed an ignorant childish Girl of sixteen. I could fill a volume with what I do recollect, and it would contain such a narrative of humiliations and keen mortifications to which I was daily exposed. I do most earnestly wish that the cause of these painful sufferings should be passed by, and that any notice of removal from the parental roof should be the indulgence of our Aunts desire to relieve our revered Father from the burden of supporting his three eldest Children. When we are gone the narrative will be read by those who may be better pleased that all else respecting us should be placed out of mind.8"'

Whether or not Anne's descendants would want to have the true story of the unhappiness and confusion of her early days as a milliner suppressed, she certainly was happier thinking that they might never find out. These memories undermined her confidence in the correctness of her behaviour and called into question the absoluteness of the standards she had lived by. Yet Anne found herself obsessed with the same events that she wished to forget. Her own difficulty in making sense of the incongruity of her early and later life had much to do with the fact that she was born into a century of dramatic change in the role of middle-class women. What might have been acceptable for a woman of her social class in

260 Conclusion

Boston of 1772 was certainly not as respectable in England of the same time and was most definitely unacceptable in Toronto of the early nineteenth century. There was no question in Anne's mind that these standards of respectability came directly from God himself. "May the residue of my life be passed in evincing my sense of His mercies," she wrote at eighty-two. She vowed to demonstrate this with "My sincere gratitude, and in the strict performance of those duties which can terminate but with my life."86 Anne's religion had always been a conservative, conventional Anglicanism, a constant feature in her life but never a preoccupation. As she approached the end of her days, the prospect of facing a judge yet harsher than herself was daunting. "You will not wonder that the sufferings of my beloved Husband are continually before my eyes," she wrote in a reflective mood. "Such I am aware must be mine. May the Almighty grant me grace to meet them with due recognition to His Holy Will, and reunite us in eternal happiness."87 At eighty-six, she prayed that "my Heavenly Father give me grace to prepare for that awful moment which will remove me from human suffering and in His infinite mercy pardon the innumerable sins committed during a long and varied life."88 As she faced "that change where the secrets of all hearts are made known," she hoped "that the gracious God who have sustained me thro' the numberless perils accept thro' the merits of my blessed Lord the sincere contrition of my weakened and ignorant mind."8-' We last hear from Anne in 1844, when, shortly after her eighty-ninth birthday, she observed that "My health appears to be declining; and warns me to ask pardon and peace from that all powerful God who hath preserved me thro' trials and dangers which but for His protecting arm must have terminated my earthly existence. It is yet His Will to try me to the end."90 Anne's extant correspondence with George ends in 1844. After that, her arthritic fingers increasingly prevented her from communicating by letters except through her daughter Elizabeth. One hopes that she was able to preserve the pride of independence she so closely guarded, and that she went to meet her maker in full confidence that she had followed propriety, consistent and correct to the end. Anne died quietly and unremarkably, unnoticed by the society that she had once headed, on 10 March 1849, just weeks short of her ninety-fourth birthday.

Notes

ABBREVIATIONS "Jarvis Letters"

J-P Papers MHS MTL NA NYHS PAO "Powell Letters" Riddell

Tiffany

A.H. Young, ed., "Letters from the Secretary of Upper Canada and Mrs. Jarvis, to Her Father, the Rev. Samuel Peters, D.D.," Women's Canadian Historical Society of Toronto Transactions no. 23 (1992-3):! 1-63 Jarvis-Powell Papers Massachusetts Historical Society Metropolitan Toronto Public Library National Archives of Canada New York Historical Society Public Archives of Ontaro Janet Carnochan, ed., "Letters of Mrs. William Dummer Powell, 1807-1821," Niagara Historical Society Publications 14 (1905-6): 1-40 William Renwick Riddell, The Life of William Dummer Powell, First Judge at Detroit and Fifth Chief Justice of Upper Canada (Lansing: Michigan Historical Commission 1924) Nina M. Tiffany, ed., Letters of James Murray Loyalist (Boston: printed not published 1901)

262 Notes to pages 3—11 PROLOGUE 1 Stanhope, Letters to His Son. On the negative reaction to Letters to His Son, see Shelabarger, Lord Chesterfield and His World and Mason, Gentlefolk in the Making. For a twentieth-century defence of the maligned aristocrat see Pullen, "Lord Chesterfield and Eighteenth-Century Appearance and Reality." A detailed and thoughtful discussion can be found in Brewer, Design for a Gentleman. 2 All quotes unless otherwise noted are from Dr John Murray to son John Murray, Norwich, 31 July 1774, Murray Family Papers, box 5, NYHS. 3 Woodhouse, From Castiglione to Chesterfield. 4 On the new middle-class morality see DavidofF and Hall, Family Fortunes. 5 See Armstrong and Tennenhouse, eds., The Ideology of Conduct, especially 96-141 (Armstrong, "The Rise of the Domestic Woman"). I have compiled a bibliography of upwards of four hundred titles of Conduct Books published in Britain, which were frequently reprinted on both sides of the Atlantic between 1750 and 1830. INTRODUCTION 1 Two examples are Thompson, Women in Stuart England and America and Griffiths, Penelope's Web. 2 Davidoff and Hall, Family Fortunes. 3 Welter, "The Cult of True Womanhood." Other works that describe the changes that were taking place concerning the image of women and the family in eighteenth-century England are George, "From 'Goodwife' to 'Mistress' "; Hill, Women, Work and Sexual Politics in Eighteenth-Century England; Stone, The Family, Sex and Marriage in England 1500-1800; Trumbach, The Rise of the Egalitarian Family. 4 Three excellent books on the later Victorian ideal of womanhood in England are Burstyn, Victorian Education and the Ideal of Womanhood; Gorham, The Victorian Girl and the Feminine Ideal; and Houghton, The Victorian Frame of Mind 1830-1870. 5 Gordon and Buhle, "Sex and Class in Colonial and NineteenthCentury America" in Carroll, ed., Liberating Women's History, 280—1. 6 Bloch, "American Feminine Ideals in Transition"; Cott, The Bonds of Womanhood; Kerber, Women of the Republic; Ryan, Cradle of the Middle Class; Smith-Rosenberg, "The Female World of Love and Ritual." See also Boydston, Home and Work. 7 Lebsock, The Free Women of Petersburg, 232. 8 Dexter, Career Women of America and Colonial Women of Affairs.

263 Notes to pages 11-16 9 Norton, "The Myth of the Golden Age," 37-47 10 Norton, Liberty's Daughters, 299. 11 Two historians who probe the negative or ambiguous legacy of the Revolution are Wilson, "The Illusion of Change," and Kerber, " 'I have Don ... much to Carrey on the Warr.' " There are a number of studies specifically examining the law that sees little change for women following the American Revolution, See, for exmaple, Gunderson and Gampel. "Married Women's Legal Studies in Eighteenth-Century New York and Virginia" and Salmon, Women and the Law of Property. 12 See Craig, Upper Canada; Saunders, "What Was the Family Compact?"; Wise, "Colonial Attitudes from the Era of the War of 1812 to the Rebellions of 1837," "God's Peculiar Peoples," "Sermon Literature and Canadian Intellectual History," and "Upper Canada and the Conservative Tradition"; Cook, "John Beverley Robinson and the Conservative Blueprint for the Upper Canadian Community"; Burns, "God's Chosen People" and "The First Elite of Toronto"; Fraser, "Like Eden in Her Summer Dress"; Errington, 'The "Lion," the "Eagle" and Upper Canada; Baker, "The Juvenile Advocate Society, 1821-1826"; ftrode, John Beverley Robinson; Patterson, "An Enduring Canadian Myth" and "Early Compact Groups in the Politics of York." 13 Some exceptions to this in the history of early Canada are the document collections by Firth, The Town of York 1793-1815 and The Town of York 1815-1834; Light and Prentice, Pioneer and Gentlewomen of British North America, and Prentice and Huston, eds., Family, School and Society in Nineteenth-Century Canada. In women's and family history see also Cohen, Women's Work, Markets and Economic Development in Nineteenth Century Ontario; Errington, "The Softer Sex"; Johnson, "The Political Economy of Ontario Women in the Nineteenth Century"; Potter, "Patriarchy and Paternalism"; Prentice, "Education and the Metaphor of Family"; M. Robinson, "The Child, the Family and Society in Ontario 1850-1900"; Royce, "Education for Girls in Quaker Schools in Ontario" and "Methodism and Education of Women"; Van Kirk, "Many Tender Ties"; Ward, Courtship, Love and Marriage. 14 Cott, "On Men's History and Women's History"; D. Morgan, "Masculinity, Autobiography and History"; Parr, The Gender of Breadwinners; "Introduction" in Roper and Tosh, eds., Manful Assertions; J.W. Scott, "Gender: A Useful Category of Historical Analysis." 15 Smith-Rosenberg, "The Female World of Love and Ritual." 16 See McKenna, "The Role of Women." 17 On the importance of a sympathetic but critical stance see Birkett and Wheelwright, "How Could She?" 18 Barry, "The New Historical Synthesis," 95. A somewhat ambivalent

264 Notes to pages 17-18

19 20

21

22

23

24 25

assessment of postmodernism and biography can be found in Middlebrook, "Postmodernism and the Biographer." Rose, Writing of Women, 68. For example, Rose's delightful biographies in Writing of Women and Parallel Lives, although they move beyond the "great man" approach, still focus on women who are either married to writers of note or are such writers themselves. Dale Spender's wonderful Women of Ideas and Mothers of the Novel are important works that operate within this framework. Even those who have written thoughtful critiques of the biographical form tend to focus on subjects that are easily fit into the male model of achievement. Middlebrook ("Postmodernism and the Biographer") has chosen as her subject the American poet Anne Sexton in Anne Sexton: A Biography. Birkett and Wheelwright (" 'How Could She?' ") write about women who literally behaved like men in their fascinating books, Spinsters Abroad and Amazons and Military Maids. In the context of Canadian history, Susan Mann Trofimenkoff, who has written the article "Feminist Biography," has also chosen as her subject the politically involved Therese Casgrain. Rooke and Schnell have not only chosen to examine the extraordinary public figure of Charlotte Whitton in their book No Bleeding Heart but also to assert that "Feminist biography of necessity emphasizes its subject's public world" ("The Making of a Feminist Biography," 62). Specifically in the context of Upper Canadian history, there have been some interesting works written within a traditional biographical mode. See, for example, Akenson, At Face Value; Fowler, The Embroidered Tent; Prentice, "Scholarly Passion"; Thomas, Life and Work Enough; and Zaremba, Privilege of Sex. Conrad, " 'Sundays Always Make Me Think of Home,' " 3. For admirable examples of this kind of documentary focus, see Conrad, "Recording Angels"; Conrad, Laidlaw, and Smyth, eds., No Place Like Home; and Stanley, ed., The Diaries of Hannah Culmick. Historians who caution against an exclusive focus on the private include Van Kirk, "What Has the Feminist Perspective Done for Canadian History?" and Parr, "Nature and Hierarchy." Smith also warns against an undue emphasis on the private sphere, asking, "to what degree has the success and popularity of such work rested on the fact that these traditional aspects of women's past are relatively non-threatening to male academics?" ("Female Bonds and the Family," 214). Barry, "The New Historical Synthesis," 101. Some historians who have taken this kind of approach include A.F. Scott, who examines the lives of three eighteenth-century American women in a section entitled "The Biographical Mode" in her book,

265 Notes to pages 23-5 Making the Invisible Woman Visible. Similarly, Gorham concludes The Victorian Girl and the Feminine Ideal by looking at the lives of several Victorian women. Although lacking in analysis, The Way of Duty by Buel and Buel is another example. In the Canadian context, see Green, "Molly Brant, Catherine Brant and Their Daughters"; Hopkins, "A Prison-House for Prosperity"; Lewis, "Frances Stewart"; McKenna, "Options for Elite Women in Early Upper Canadian Society" and " 'The Union between Faith and Good Works.' " CHAPTER ONE

1 Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 31 January 1839, Powell Papers, MTL. 2 Ibid. 3 Ibid., 13 December 1838. 4 Davidoff and Hall point out that at the end of the eighteenth century the medical profession was three-tiered. At the bottom were apothecaries, followed by surgeons. The most prestigious were those physicians who were graduates of either Oxford or Edinburgh. Family Fortunes, 261. 5 Chambers, A General History of the County of Norfolk, 1204. 6 James Murray to Dorothy Forbes, London, 21 June 1771, in Tiffany. 7 As quoted in Marshall, English People in the Eighteenth Century, 124 (no original reference is given). Such schools were common for middle-class girls in eighteenthcentury England. As Hill as observed, "Parents sought a schooling that would equip girls for entry to the social class to which they aspired." Such institutions "multiplied rapidly from the mid-century." Until recently, these schools have been seen as providing a very inferior education to girls. Hill has contended that, despite their rapid growth, "Unfortunately the standard of teaching at these establishments showed no parallel improvement in quality. Standards were almost invariably low." In addition, the subjects taught were limited. "The curriculum varied little," Hill has said. "It was devoted almost exclusively to the acquisition of ornamental accomplishments" (Eighteenth-Century Women, 46). Kamm has observed more caustically that "by the end of the eighteenth century, therefore, a rash of small, incompetent boarding schools disfigured cities and country villages alike" (Hope Deferred, 141). For similar negative comments on eighteenth-century schools for girls, see Gardiner, English Girlhood at School, 333; Plant, The Domestic Life of Scotland in the Eighteenth Century, 15; Hole, English Home-Life, 1500-1800,125. For a contemporary critique, see Darwin, A Plan for the Conduct of Female Education.

a 66 Notes to pages 25-8 Theobald, however, takes issue with this interpretation. She aptly points out that they "have shared the fate of much womanly enterprise in the past, reduced by the attrition of time and neglect to an unflattering stereotype" (" 'Mere Accomplishments'?," 16). Although she admits that "some may have richly deserved the scorn of posterity" (16), we should not accept "as a truism that voluntarist enterprise attracted the halt, the lame and the blind" (20). Certainly subsequent late nineteenth-century "reforms" in women's education did very little to advance women's status in society. Theobald makes her claims in the context of Australia, but her observations apply equally well to the British setting that Anne Murray grew up in. Monaghan, in her article "Literacy Instruction and Gender in Colonial New England," investigates the role of dame schools in New England, which, she contends, followed the British example. She points out that these schools were solely for the purpose of teaching reading, and that penmanship was taught at more formally organized schools and seldom to girls. Mathematics would follow after writing and was considered an even more advanced skill. Thus girls' schools in the late eighteenth century that taught writing were significantly advancing the cause of female education, not merely teaching useless accomplishments. 8 Ibid., 35. 9 John Murray to Elizabeth Smith (Inman), Norwich, 9 November 1771, in Tiffany, 143. 10 John Murray to son John Murray, Norwich, 28 June 1772, Murray Family Papers, box 7, NYHS. 11 John Murray to Elizabeth Inman, Norwich, 12 July 1773, Murray Family Papers, box 3, NYHS. 12 John Murray to son John Murray, 27 April 1778, Murray Family Papers, box 3, NYHS. 13 Theobald, "'Mere Accomplishments'?" 16-17. 14 Ibid., 21. 15 Ibid., 17. 16 Fordyce, Sermons to Young Women, 1:191-2. 17 Bennet, Strictures on Female Education, 109-10. 18 Fordyce, Sermons to Young Women, 1:108. 19 James Murray to Dorothy Forbes, London, 21 June 1771, in Tiffany, 13920 "Sketch of Mrs. Inman by James Murray Robbins," Murray Papers, box 7, NYHS. 21 Norton, "A Cherished Spirit of Independence," 50. 22 Elizabeth Inman to Dr John Murray, Providence, 18 September 1783, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 6, MHS.

267 Notes to pages 28-33 23 24 25 26 27

Premo, Winter Friends, 26. Tiffany, 109. Norton, "A Cherished Spirit of Independence," 50. Tiffany, 109. Christian Barnes to Dorothy Forbes, Boston, 6 October 1769, Revere Papers, MHS. 28 "Sketch of Mrs. Inman by James Murray Robbins," Murray Family Papers, box 7, NYHS. 29 Norton, "A Cherished Spirit of Independence," 49. 30 Tiffany, 107. 31 Christian Barnes to Dorothy Forbes, Boston, 6 October 1769, Revere Papers, MHS. 32 Norton, "A Cherished Spirit of Independence," 54. From the J.M. Robbins Papers, MHS. 33 Elizabeth Smith to Christian Barnes, London, 24 April 1770, Murray Family Papers, box 4, NYHS. 34 Elizabeth Inman to her (unnamed) cousin, Cambridge, 11 February 1774, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 4, MHS. 35 M. Spencer to her (unnamed) mother, Boston, 1774, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 4, MHS. 36 Elizabeth Inman to her cousin, Cambridge, 11 February 1774, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 4, MHS. 37 Christian Barnes to Elizabeth Inman, 6 March 1774, Christian Barnes Letterbook, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division. 38 Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 16 October 1838, Powell Papers, MTL. 39 Ibid., 18 September 1840. 40 Anne Murray to Elizabeth Murray, Boston, 13 August 1774, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 4, MHS. 41 John Murray to Elizabeth Smith, 30 September 1771, Murray Family Papers, box 3, NYHS. 42 Ibid., I2julyi773. 43 Elizabeth Inman to Dr John Murray, Providence, 18 September 1783, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 6, MHS. 44 Mary and Dr John Murray to Elizabeth Inman, Norwich, 30 November 1783, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 6, MHS. Dr Murray's lame response to Elizabeth's offence at his complaint may have had something to do with some inconsistency about the propriety of the millinery business for women. Certainly other branches of the Murray family sent their daughters into trade during this period. Anne noted that a "generous Uncle" had taken on "the care and expense" of establishing a young cousin with a milliner in London (to Elizabeth Inman, Norwich, 10 May 1776, J-P Papers,

268 Notes to pages 34-7

45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

PAO). Later, in 1784, Dr Murray himself told his niece that "Your two Cousin Hopes are in London, the one in the Millinery the other in the mantua making way to qualify themselves to settle in Edin[burgh]" (Norwich, June 1784, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 6, MHS). Clearly, social attitudes were in flux during this period, creating some uncertainty about appropriate female occupations. Davidoff and Hall have noted similar shifts in attitude toward trade among the upwardly mobile middle class. John Marsh and his wife saw nothing wrong with living above their shop in the early i8oos, but their daughter was later embarrassed by what she saw as an inauspicious start to their married life (Family Fortunes, 57). In 1816, the writer Jane Taylor described "the ultimate social humiliation of having served behind a counter" in one of her poems. Davidoff and Hall conclude that "Anxiety about the status of retail trade was particularly acute for women" (303). Indeed, as early as 1791, Mary Wollstonecraft expressed the low status of trade in even stronger terms. She saw "an attempt to earn their own subsistence" as "a most laudable" effort for women to make. Yet the result was to "sink them almost to the level of those poor abandoned creatures who live by prostitution. For are not milliners and mantua-makers reckoned the next class?" (Vindication of the Rights of Woman, 261). Such changing attitudes must have influenced John Murray between his approval of Elizabeth's plans in 1769 and his letter to his son in 1783. Mary and Dr John Murray to Elizabeth Inman, Norwich, 30 November 1783, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 6, MHS. Anne Murray to Elizabeth Murray, Boston, 13 August 1774, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 4, MHS. Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 16 October 1838, Powell Papers, MTL. Dr John Murray to Elizabeth Inman, Norwich, 9 November 1771, from Tiffany, 144-5. Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 31 January 1839, Powell Papers, MTL. Ibid., 16 October 1838. Ibid. Extracts from the letters of Anne Murray Powell by her brother George Murray, J-P Papers, PAO. More, Essays on Various Subjects, 102-4. Smith-Rosenberg, "The Female World of Love and Ritual." See Colt's chapter "Sisterhood" in The Bonds of Womanhood, in which she says: "The diaries and correspondence of New England women suggest that from the late eighteenth through the mid-nineteenth century they invented a newly self-conscious and idealized concept of female

269 Notes to pages 38—42 friendship" (160). Lillian Faderman also describes that whe terms the "fashion" of romantic friendship in the eighteenth century in her book Surpassing the Love of Men. These friendships may or may not have involved genital sex corresponding to what we would call lesbian today. As Smith-Rosenberg has observed, during the eighteenth century there was greater scope for socially acceptable close relationships among women. £. Anthony Rotundo has suggested that, at least during youth, men may have had their own equivalent passionate attachments ("Romantic Friendship, Male Intimacy and Middle-Class Youth in the Northern United States, 1800-1900"). 55 Anne Murray to Elizabeth Murray, Boston, 13 August 1774, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 4, MHS. 56 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, Boston, 4 October 1774, J-P Papers, PAO. CHAPTER TWO

1 Anne Murray to Elizabeth Murray, Boston, ^August 1774, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 4, MHS. 2 Unless otherwise cited, the general information on the life of William Dummer Powell is taken from Powell's manuscript autobiography in the Powell Papers, MTL, S.R. Mealing's biography in the Dictionary of Canadian Biography, and Riddell. 3 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 12 August 1817, Powell Papers, MTL. 4 Riddell, 10. 5 Powell Autobiography, MTL (undated and pages unnumbered). 6 Ibid. 7 Ibid. 8 Anne Murray to Elizabeth Murray, Boston, 13 August 1775, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 4, MHS. 9 Anne Murray to Dorothy Forbes, Boston, 10 September 1774, Revere Papers, MHS. i o Powell Autiobiography, MTL. 11 W.D. Powell to Elizabeth Inman, Boston, 30 September 1775, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 4, MHS. 12 Mary Murray to Elizabeth Murray, Norwich, 20 July 1775, Murray Family Papers, box 3, NYHS. 13 James Murray to Elizabeth Inman, Boston, 28 August 1775, in Tiffany, 221. 14 Riddell, 12. 15 Chapone, Letters on the Improvement of the Mind, 62. As Katharine Rogers has emphasized, "Women who married

270 Notes to pages 42-7

16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

contrary to their parents' wishes were apt to find themselves without portion or inheritance and with reputations damaged by such evidence of uncontrolled passion and willfulness" (Feminism in EighteenthCentury England, 11). Anne Murray to Elizabeth Inman, Rhode Island, 25 July 1775, as summarized by her brother George Murray, J-P Papers, PAO. W.D. Powell to Elizabeth Inman, Boston, 30 September 1775, J.M. Robbins Papers, MHS. Powell Autobiography, MTL. P. Champlin to W.D. Powell, Newport, 15 November 1774, Powell Papers, MTL. John Grant to William Dummer Powell, Spanish Town, 23 December 1774, J-P Papers, PAO. Powell Autobiography, MTL. W.D. Powell to John Powell, Boston, i October 1775, as summarized by George Murray, J-P Papers, PAO. Certificate of marriage of W.D. Powell and Anne Murray, Boston, 3 October 1775, Powell Papers, NA. Powell Autobiography, MTL. Comments of George Murray on the letter of Anne Murray to Elizabeth Inman, 17 June 1775, J-P Papers, PAO. Dr John Murray to James Murray, London, 22-3 November 1775, Murray Family Papers, box 3, NYHS. DavidofFand Hall point out that, in late eighteenth-century England, "Wealth fostered through law was one of the surest ways of enabling a family to move into positions of power and influence as well as being socially acceptable to gentry echelons and metropolitan circles. Law was the platform where the middle class and the upper class might meet" (Family Fortunes, 265). Dr John Murray to James Murray, London, 22-3 November 1775, Murray Family Papers, box 3, NYHS. Powell Autobiography, MTL. Anne Powell to Elizabeth Inman, Norwich, 27 November 1775, as summarized by George Murray, J-P Papers, PAO. Ibid. W.D. Powell to Elizabeth Inman, London, 28 January 1775, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 4, MHS. Anne Powell to Elizabeth Inman, Norwich, 12 December 1775, J-P Papers, PAO. W.D. Powell to Elizabeth Inman, London, 28 January 1775, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 4, MHS. James Murray to Dorothy Forbes and Elizabeth Murray, New York, 9 June 1777, in Tiffany, 263.

271 Notes to pages 47-54 36 W.D. Powell to C. Champlin, London, 16 March 1784, Wetmore Papers, MHS. 37 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Inman, Norwich, loMay 1776, J-P Papers, PAO. 38 Anne Powell to Dorothy Forbes and Elizabeth Murray, Norwich, 7 November 1779, Murray Family Papers, box 3, NYHS. 39 Powell Autobiography, MTL. 40 Ibid. The term "Burke" used here likely refers to a man who, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, was "a notorious criminal executed at Edinburgh in 1829 for smothering many persons in order to sell their bodies for dissection" (p. 297). This would, therefore, date William's autobiography after 1829. 41 Ibid. 42 Anne Powell to Dorothy Forbes and Elizabeth Murray, Norwich, 7 November 1779, Murray Family Papers, box 3, NYHS. 43 James Murray to Elizabeth Murray and Dorothy Forbes, Halifax, 20 September 1780, in Tiffany, 278. 44 Riddell, 23. 45 Anne Powell to Dorothy Forbes and Elizabeth Murray, Norwich, 7 November 1779, Murray Family Papers, box 3, NYHS. 46 David Maas, The Return of the Massachusetts Loyalists. 47 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Inman, Montreal, 2 July 1783, as summarized by George Murray, J-P Papers, PAO. 48 W.D. Powell to C. Champlin, London, 16 March 1784, Wetmore Papers, MHS. 49 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Inman, North Yarmouth, 16 September 1784, J-P Papers, PAO. 50 Ibid., 13 February 1785, Revere Papers, MHS. 51 Riddell, 47. 52 Anne Powell to George Murray, Montreal, 26 April 1789, Murray Papers, NA. 53 Evan Nepean to John Graves Simcoe, 14 September 1791, in Cruikshank, ed., The Correspondence of Lieut. Governor John Graves Simcoe, 4:347-8. 54 Craig, Upper Canada, 56—7. 55 W.D. Powell to John King, i March 1796, in Cruikshank, ed., The Correspondence of Lieut. Governor John Graves Simcoe, 4:12. 56 Hannah Jarvis to Rev. Samuel Peters, Newark, 6 December 1796, Jarvis-Peters Papers, vol. 2, NA. 57 Miss Anne Powell (Nancy) to W.D. Powell, Ludlow, 3 December 1778, J-P Papers, PAO. 58 Ibid., Halifax, 20 April 1776. 59 Ibid., Ludlow, Mary 1778.

272 Notes to pages 55-9 60 Ibid., 30 March 1779. 61 Anne Powell to Dorothy Forbes and Elizabeth Murray, Norwich, 7 November 1779, Murray Family Papers, box 3, NYHS. 62 W.D. Powell Autobiography (undated, pages unnumbered), J-P Papers, PAO. 63 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Murray, Cambridge, 9 April 1784, Revere Papers, MHS. 64 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Inman, North Yarmouth, 2 September 1784, J-P Papers, PAO. 65 Ibid., 26 March 1785. 66 Anne Powell to Dorothy Forbes, North Yarmouth, 17 January 1785, Revere Papers, MHS. 67 Ibid. 68 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Inman, North Yarmouth, 13 February 1785, J.M. Robbins Papers, MHS. 69 Same to same, North Yarmouth, 16 September 1784, J-P Papers, PAO. 70 Ibid., 26 March 1785. 71 Anne Powell to Dorothy Forbes, North Yarmouth, 17 January 1785, Revere Papers, MHS. 72 Elizabeth Murray to Mary Murray, Boston, 26June 1785, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 4, MHS. 73 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Inman, North Yarmouth, 26 March 1785^P Papers, PAO. 74 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Robbins, Montreal, i August 1787, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 4, MHS. 75 Anne Powell to Dorothy Forbes, Montreal, 14 March 1786, Revere Papers, MHS. 76 Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 4 April 1844, Powell Papers, MTL. 77 Miss Anne Powell, "Description of a Journey from Montreal to Detroit in 1789," Diaries Collection, PAO, 5 September 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. David Farrell describes life in these outlying areas as particularly isolated, especially for English settlers who had no religious institutions or newspaper ("Settlement along the Detroit Frontier," 92). 78 Mary Murray to Mrs James Murray, Norwich, 22 September 1776, Murray Family Papers, box 3, NYHS. 79 James Murray to Dorothy Forbes and Elizabeth Murray, Halifax, 17 February 1781, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 5, MHS. 80 Jane Walker to Elizabeth Inman, Quebec, 20 November 1780, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 5, MHS. 81 Mary Murray to Christian Barnes, Norwich, 10 October 1792, Murray Family Pepers, box 3, NYHS. 82 Powell Autobiography, MTL.

273 Notes to pages 59—66 83 Thomas Astin Coffin to Mary Coffin, Montreal, 26 April 1789, Coffin Papers, vol. 2, MHS. 84 Elizabeth Simcoe, diary entry for 2 September 1795, in Robertson, The Diary of Mrs. John Graves Simcoe, 290. 85 Ibid., 10 September 1795, 293. CHAPTER THREE

1 Riddell, 85; also Mealing, "William Dummer Powell," 607. 2 Firth, The Town of York 1793-1815, Ixxvii. 3 Romney, "A Struggle for Authority," 10. 4 Firth, The Town of York 1793-1815, Ixxxv. 5 See McKenna, "The Role of Women." 6 Journal of General Benjamin Lincoln, 4 June 1793, in Cruikshank, ed., Simcoe Papers, 2:25. 7 Innis, Simcoe Diary, Elizabeth Simcoe to Mrs Hunt, February 1793, 151. 8 Hannah Jarvis to Birdseye Peters, Newark, 19 June 1793, JarvisPeters Papers, vol. 2, NA. 9 Hannah Jarvis to Rev. Samuel Peters, Newark, 5 October 1795, JarvisPeters Papers, vol. 2, NA. 10 William Jarvis to Rev. Samuel Peters, Newark, 10 November 1795, "Jarvis Letters," 43. 11 Hannah Jarvis to Rev. Samuel Peters, Newark, 5 October 1795, JarvisPeters Papers, vol. 2, NA. 12 Ibid., 26 July 1796. 13 Ibid., 28 December 1796. 14 Ibid., 20July 1797. 15 John White to Samuel Shepherd, York, 12 November 1799, Shepherd-White Papers, vol. 2, NA. 16 Hannah Jarvis to Rev. Samuel Peters, 6 November 1801, "Jarvis Letters," 58. 17 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 31 March 1807, Powell Papers, MTL. 18 Rev. John Stuart to James Stuart, Kingston, 28 June 1804, Stuart Papers, PAO. In his article "The Political Economy of Ontario Women in the Nineteenth Century," L. Johnson wrote that, "not surprisingly, more than one husband" among the York elite "accepted the cuckold's horns in order to win some advantage" (180). He gives no evidence for this assertion, but Stuart's comment may be the basis for it. 19 Riddell, 92. 20 Powell Autobiography, MTL. 21 Russell, "Attitudes to Social Structure," 30.

274 Notes to pages 66-75 22 Firth, The Town of York 1793—1815, Ixxvi. 23 Powell Autobiography, MTL. 24 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 7 May 1804, Powell Papers, MTL. 25 For an account of Thorpe's infamous career in Upper Canada, see Walton's thesis, "An End to All Order." See Craig, Upper Canada, 58-64, on the political conflicts caused by Thorpe, Willcocks, and Weekes. 26 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 25 November 1805, Powell Papers, MTL. 27 Ibid. 28 Elizabeth Russell Diary, entry for 4 January 1806, Russell Papers, MTL. 29 Ibid., 8 January 1806, p. 259. 30 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 19 January 1806, Powell Papers, MTL. 31 Elizabeth Russell Diary, entry for 31 January 1806, Russell Papers, MTL. 32 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 4 September 1807, Powell Papers, MTL. 33 Ibid., 13 February 1807. 34 Ibid., 13 December 1806. 35 Ibid., 13 February 1807. 36 Peter Russell to E.B. Littlehales, York, 13 February 1800, Russell Papers, PAO. 37 Peter Russell to William Osgoode, York, 9 February 1800, Russell Papers, PAO. 38 William Jarvis to Rev. Samuel Peters, York, 18 January 1800, JarvisPeters Papers, vol. 2, NA. 39 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 13 February 1807, Powell Papers, MTL. 40 Ibid., 21 January 1807. 41 Ibid., 4 September 1807. 42 Ibid., 17 April 1807. 43 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 23 May 1807, Powell Papers, vol. 1, NA.

44 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 24 January 1808, Powell Papers, MTL. 45 Ibid. 46 Ibid., 20 November 1808. 47 Ibid., 3 April 1809. 48 Ibid., 23june 1810. 49 Ibid., 7 August 1811.

275 Notes to pages 75-9 50 W.W. Baldwin to William Firth, York, 13 June 1812, Baldwin Papers, PAO. 51 W.D. Powell to George Murray, York, i January 1810, Powell Papers, MTL. 52 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 13 November 1809, Powell Papers, MTL. 53 Ibid., i April 1810. 54 Ibid., 17 March 1811. 55 Ibid., 25 February 1810. 56 Ibid., io September 1811. 57 Ibid., 22 February 1812. 58 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, loMay 1813, Powell Papers, MTL. 59 Ibid., 12 May 1813. 60 Ibid., 6 June 1813. 61 Ibid., lojune 1813. 62 Middleton, The Municipality of Toronto, 1:115 an(^ 126—7; C.W. Robinson, The Life of Sir John Beverley Robinson, 411-13. 63 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 29 May 1813, Powell Papers, MTL. 64 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 17 April 1815, "Powell Letters," 565 W.D. Powell to Mrs Warren, York, 12 October 1815, in Firth, The Town of York 1793-1815, Ixxxix. 66 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 27 October 1811, Powell Papers, MTL. 67 Same to same, York, 13 October 1815, "Powell Letters," 9. 68 Powell Autobiography, MTL. 69 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 26 April 1816, Powell Papers, MTL. 70 Same to same, York, 11 August 1816, "Powell Letters," 14. 71 Powell Autobiography, MTL. 72 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 23 November 1817, Powell Papers, MTL. 73 Same to same, York, 24 February 1816, "Powell Letters," 17. 74 Same to same, York, 10 March 1820, Powell Papers, MTL. 75 Same to same, York, 2 June 1817, "Powell Letters," 18. 76 Mary B. Jarvis to Anne Powell, York, 12 June 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 77 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 15 August 1821, Powell Papers, MTL. 78 Ibid., 27 February 1819. 79 1805 Census of York, in Middleton, The Municipality of Toronto, 1:96-9.

276 Notes to pages 79—85 80 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 24 February 1816, "Powell Letters," 17. 81 Elizabeth Simcoe to Mrs Hunt, February 1793, Innis, Simcoe Diary, 87. 82 Hannah Jarvis to Rev. Samuel Peters, Newark, 12 February 1793, Jarvis-Peters Papers, NA. 83 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 26 January 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. 84 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, i September 1817, Powell Papers, MTL. 85 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, i April 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. 86 Ibid., 15June 1818. 87 Ibid., 19July 1819. 88 Ibid., 18 December 1819. 89 Ibid., i December 1818. 90 Ibid., i December 1821. 91 Julia Lambert to David R. Lambert, York, 27 August 1821, in Heward and Wallace, eds., "An American Lady in Old Toronto," 104. 92 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 9 June 1817, Powell Papers, MTL. 93 Same to same, York, 2 February 1818, "Powell Letters," 24. 94 Same to same, York, 6 September 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. 95 Ibid., 8 November 1818. 96 Ibid., 7 February 1819. 97 Ibid., 15 August 1821. 98 Ibid., 27 November 1820. 99 Society for the Relief of Poor Women in Childbirth, Constitution and Membership List, 21 October 1820, J-P Papers, PAO; Report of Meeting, 12 November 1821, MTL. 100 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 29 May 1820, Powell Papers, MTL. 101 This incident will be discussed fully in a later chapter. 102 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 11 March 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 103 Ibid., 23 February 1822. 104 Ibid., 3 March 1822. 105 Ibid., 11 March 1822. 106 Ibid., i2julyi824. 107 Riddell, 139-40; Mealing, "William Dummer Powell," 612-13. 108 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 26 January 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. 109 Ibid., 29June 1825. no Ibid., 26January 1825.

277 Notes to pages 85-93 111 W.D. Powell to George Murray, York, 3 February 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. 112 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 26 January 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. 113 Ibid., 22 October 1825. 114 Ibid., 27 October 1825. 115 Ibid., 6 February 1826. 116 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 14 August 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. 117 Riddell, 140; Mealing, "William Dummer Powell," 613. 118 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 26 July 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. 119 Ibid., 7 January 1826. CHAPTER FOUR

1 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 4 September 1807, "Powell Letters, 2." 2 Same to same, York, 12 September 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 3 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, i February 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 4 Ibid., 8 September 1824. 5 Ibid., 3 September 1825. 6 Ibid., 22 October 1825. 7 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, New York, 12 May 1816, Powell Papers, MTL. 8 Ibid., Sandwich, 5 September 1818. 9 Same to same, London, England, 14 March 1822, Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA. 10 Same to same, Brockville, 30 August 1823, Powell Papers, MTL.

11 Ibid., 5 September 1823. 12 Same to same, London, 20 April 1822, Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA. 13 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 20 May 1805, Powell Papers, MTL. 14 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 23 May 1807, Powell Papers, vol. i, NA. 15 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 25 November 1806, Powell Papers, MTL. 16 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 8 March 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. (The individual that Anne refers to was the young attorneygeneral, John Beverley Robinson.) 17 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 30 July 1822, Powell Papers, MTL.

278 Notes to pages 93—7 18 Ibid., 12 July 1824. 19 Ibid., 26January 1825. 20 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 26July 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. 21 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 25 October 1807, Powell Papers, MTL. 22 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 9 February 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 23 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, New York, 9 February 1822, Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA. 24 Ibid., London, 23 March 1822. 25 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 15 March 1816, Powell Papers, MTL. 26 Ibid., 23 February 1822. 27 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, New York, 9 February 1822, Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA.

28 Powell Autobiography, n.d., J-P Papers, PAO. 29 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, Tonbridge, 2ojune 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 30 Ibid., Montreal, 24 February 1826. 31 W.D. Powell to George Murray, York, 8 October 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. 32 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, Kingston, 4 September 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. 33 Gisborne, An Enquiry into the Duties of the Female Sex, 12. 34 E. Stanhope, The Deportment of a Married Life, 2. 35 Griffith, Essays Addressed to Young Married Women, 43-4. 36 Lebsock, The Free Women of Petersburg, 17-18. On the ideal of the companionate marriage and the growth of new middle-class views of the relations between husband and wife, see Davidoff and Hall, Family Fortunes; Stone, The Family, Sex and Marriage; Degler, At Odds; and Gillis, For Better, For Worse. For an excellent example of how a woman's whole existence could be adversely affected by a troubled marriage in late eighteenth-century English Canada, see Bradley, "Mary Bradley's Reminiscences." 37 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, New York, 20 February 1822, Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA. 38 Ibid., Utica, 29January 1822. 39 Ibid., St Edmonds Bury [sic], 8 April 1822. 40 Ibid., London, 28 March 1822. 41 Ibid., loApril 1822. 42 Miss Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, Ludlow, 3 December 1778, J-P Papers, PAO.

279 Notes to pages 97—100 43 Anne Powell to Dorothy Forbes and Elizabeth Murray, Norwich, 7 November 1779, Murray Family Papers, box 3, NYHS. 44 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, York, 8 September 1819, Powell Papers, MTL.

45 Ibid., New York, 11 May 1816. 46 For a discussion of early Victorian notions of women's lack of sexual desire corresponding to their greater moral purity, see Cott, "Passionless." 47 "Mr. P never was a popular Man," Anne herself admitted (to George Murray, York, 29 June 1825, Powell Papers, MTL). A description of William written in the late nineteenth century indicates that he was remembered as being rather caustic. "Chief Justice Powell, when on the Bench, had a humourous way occasionally of indicating by a kind of quiet by-play, by a gentle shake of the head, a series of little nods, or movements of the eye or eyebrow, his estimate of an outr6 hypothesis or an ad captandum argument. This was now and then disconcerting to advocates anxious to figure, for the moment, in the eyes of a simple-minded jury as oracles of extra authority" (Scadding, Toronto of Old, 215). 48 Alexander Grant to John Askin, York, 19 December 1805, in Quaife, ed., The John Askin Papers, 2:499. 49 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 27 November 1820, Powell Papers, MTL. 50 Ibid., 18 October 1805. 51 Ibid., 29July 1809. 52 Ibid., 22 January 1810. 53 Ibid., 8 November 1818. 54 Ibid. 55 Ibid., 6 September 1818. 56 Ibid., 19July 1819. 57 W.D. Powell to George Murray, York, 23 June 1809, Powell Papers, MTL. 58 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 2 October 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. 59 Ibid., 2gjune 1825. 60 Ibid., 6 February 1826. 61 W.D. Powell to George Murray, York, 8 October 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. 62 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 3 September 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. 63 Ibid., 5 March 1826. 64 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, en route to Montreal, 4 October 1825, Powell Papers, MTL.

280 Notes to pages 101—7 65 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 22 October 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. 66 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, Kingston, 22 October 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. 67 W.D. Powell to George Murray, York, 23 March 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 68 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, Montreal, 24 February 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 69 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 7 January 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 70 Ibid., 4 April 1826. 71 Ibid. 72 Ibid., 14April 1826. 73 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, Liverpool, 21 June 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 74 Ibid. 75 Ibid., gjuly 1826. 76 Ibid. 77 Ibid. 78 Ibid., 9 September 1826. 79 Ibid., 3 August 1826. 80 Tosh, "Domesticity and Manliness," 56. Tosh cites David Pugh as first suggesting this dichotomy (Sons of Liberty). 81 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, New York, 7 August 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 82 Ibid., 15 August 1826. 83 Ibid. 84 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, Liverpool, 8 September 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 85 Anne Powell to George Murray, on board the Florida, 16 November 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 86 Ibid., Liverpool, 24 November 1826. 87 Ibid. 88 Ibid., Norwich, 29January 1827. 89 Ibid., Tolpuddle, 27 September 1828. 90 Ibid., 11 September 1828. 91 Craig, Upper Canada, 176-7. 92 Anne Powell to George Murray, London, 23 June 1829, Powell Papers, MTL. 93 Ibid., Tolpuddle, 10 November 1827. 94 Ibid., 17 November 1828. 95 W.D. Powell to George Murray, York, 10 April 1830, Powell Papers, MTL.

281 Notes to pages 107-14 96 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 15 April 1830, Powell Papers, MTL. 97 Ibid., 26 May 1830. 98 Ibid., 23 July 1830. 99 Ibid., 25 September 1830. 100 Ibid., i November 1824. 101 Ibid., 12 July 1824. 102 Ibid., Tolpuddle, 11 August 1828. 103 W.D. Powell to George Murray, York, i September 1830, Powell Papers, MTL. 104 Will of W.D. Powell, 13 December 1830, Powell Papers, vol. 5, NA. 105 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 16 November 1832, Powell Papers, MTL. 106 Ibid., 28 May 1833. 107 Ibid., 23july 1833. 108 Ibid., 5 February 1834. 109 Ibid., 19 May 1834. no Ibid., 27 October 1833. in Ibid., 21 November 1833. 112 Ibid., 19 February 1833. 113 Ibid., 13 May 1833. 114 Ibid., 19 February 1833. 115 Ibid., 4 July 1833. 117 Ibid., 17 January 1834. 118 Ibid., 27 October 1833. 119 Ibid., 19 May 1834. 120 Ibid. 121 Ibid., 7 September 1834. 122 Ibid., 19 September 1834. 123 Ibid., 3 October 1834. CHAPTER F I V E

1 Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 24 September 1834, Powell Papers, MTL. 2 Smith-Rosenberg, "The Female World of Love and Ritual." Anthony Rotundo has observed parallel same-sex friendships in a more limited sense for men in his article "Romantic Friendship, Male Intimacy and Middle-Class Youth." 3 Davidoff and Hall, Family Fortunes, 348. 4 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Inman, North Yarmouth, 13 February 1785, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 6, MHS.

282 Notes to pages 115—20 5 Same to same, North Yarmouth, 26 March 1785, Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA. 6 Smith-Rosenberg, "The Female World of Love and Ritual," 17-18. 7 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 27 April 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. 8 Ibid., 25 October 1807. 9 W.D. Powell to George Murray, London, 28 February 1807, J-P Papers, PAO. 10 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 13 April 1817, Powell Papers, MTL. 11 Ibid., 11 August 1828. 12 Ibid., 13 April 1817. 13 Ibid., on board the Florida, 16 November 1826. 14 Ibid., Toronto, 30 July 1838. 15 Ibid., York, 14 April 1826. 16 Ibid., Toronto, 3 October 1834. 17 Extracts from the letters of Anne Murray Powell by her brother George Murray, J-P Papers, PAO. 18 W.D. Powell to daughter Anne Powell, York, 3 January 1817, Powell Papers, MTL. 19 This contract is printed in full in Norton, "A Cherished Spirit of Independence," 61-4. 20 For two excellent discussions of how provisions in equity could modify British common law in practice, see Salmon, Women and the Law of Property in Early America, and Staves, Married Women's Separate Property in England 1660—1833. 21 Elizabeth Inman's will is partially reprinted in both Norton, "A Cherished Spirit of Independence," 64—7 and Riddell, 261-3. All information concerning it is taken from these two sources. The original is located in the manuscript division of the New York Historical Society in the Murray Family Papers. 22 Elizabeth Murray to Mary Murray, Boston, 26June 1785, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 6, MHS. 23 Mary Murray to Betsey Robbins, Norwich, 27 April 1787, Murray Family Papers, box 4, NYHS. 24 Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 16 October 1838, Powell Papers, MTL. 25 Ibid., York, 13 March 1830. 26 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Inman, North Yarmouth, 26 March 1785, W.D. Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA. 27 Anne Powell to Jeremiah Powell, York, 2 Mary 1805, Powell Papers, MTL. 28 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 11 September 1807, "Powell Letters," 3.

283 Notes to pages 121-7 29 The story of Anne's annuity is mainly taken from an undated account written by Anne late in life, some time after 1827, found in the Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA. 30 Ibid. 31 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 20 November 1808, Powell Papers, MTL. 32 Ibid., 21 May 1805. 33 Ibid., 8 December 1810. 34 Anne Powell's memorial, n.d., Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA. 35 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 7 September 1816, Powell Papers, MTL. 36 Ibid., isjune 1818. 37 Ibid., 26 October 1820. 38 See, for example, Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 13 December 1806, re a lawsuit brought against George by Robert, and 26 October 1820, concerning a similar action by John, Powell Papers, MTL. 39 Ibid., 29June 1825. 40 W.D. Powell to George Murray, York, 5 January 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 41 Anne Powell's memorial, n.d., Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA. 42 Anne Powell to George Murray, Tolpuddle, 19 November 1828, Powell Papers, MTL. 43 Anne Powell's memorial, n.d., Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA. 44 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Robbins, New York, 31 August 1829, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 7, MHS. 45 Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 12 July 1834, Powell Papers, MTL. 46 Autobiography of James B. Murray, Murray Family Papers, box 4, NYHS. 47 Dr John Murray to John Murray, Norwich, 31 July 1774, Murray Family Papers, box 5, NYHS. 48 John B. Murray to James B. Murray, New York, 15 May 1809, Murray Family Papers, box 6, NYHS. 49 James B. Murray to Maria Bronson Murray, New York, 9 October 1828, Murray Family Papers, box i, NYHS. 50 On the revival of the ideal of manly chivalry from the late eighteenth century onward, see Girouard, The Return to Camelot; Vance, The Sinews of the Spirit; Managan and Walvin, eds, "Introduction" in Manliness and Morality, 1-6; Davidoff and Hall, Family Fortunes, esp. 28. 51 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 29 May 1820, Powell Papers, MTL. 52 Ibid., 27 February 1819. 53 Ibid., Toronto, 13 May 1835.

284 Notes to pages 127-32 54 On the importance of masculine independence, see Davidoff and Hall, 199. 55 George Murray to James H. Robbins, Brooklyn, 23 January 1840, Murray Family Papers, box 7, NYHS. CHAPTER SIX

1 On the new ideal of motherhood, see Bloch, "American Feminine Ideals in Transition" and Davidoff and Hall, Family Fortunes, especially 335-432 On this new ideal of fatherhood, see Demos, "The Changing Faces of Fatherhood"; Rotundo, "Patriarchs and Participants"; Pugh, Sons of Liberty; and Pleck and Pleck, eds., "Introduction" in The American Man, 1-49. Two more general works which describe the change from parenting by fathers to mothers and the rise of a new kind of family ruled less by the rod than by emotional ties are Stone, The Family, Sex and Marriage in England 1500-1800 and Trumbach, The Rise of the Egalitarian Family, An article by Walzer makes these same connections for eighteenth-century Americans and also suggests that the rise of individualism and the ideological preparation for revolution may have been connected to these changes ("A Period of Ambivalence"). Fliegelman echoes this theme of the undermining of the father's role with the breaking away of the American colonies from the paternal rule of Britain in Prodigals and Pilgrims, yet he cites British conduct literature as the source of these ideas and does not explain why the same transition occurred in other English-speaking nations. 3 See Davidoff and Hall, Family Fortunes, esp 329-35 and Tosh, "Domesticity and Manliness," 44-73. It may be, as Pugh argues in Sons of Liberty, that the rejection of the father figure in the American Revolution made for a different, less positive evaluation of the paternal role in the United States. 4 William Dummer Powell Autobiography, Powell Papers, MTL. 5 Dr John Murray to John Murray, Norwich, 27 April 1788, Murray Family Papers, box 3, NYHS. 6 William Dummer Powell Autobiography, Powell Papers, MTL. 7 Grossberg, "Institutionalizing Masculinity." 8 J.K.Johnson, ed., "Introduction" in Affectionately Yours, 16. 9 Tosh, "Domesticity and Manliness," 65. 10 Miss Anne Powell (Nancy) to William Dummer Powell, Ludlow, 7 December 1778, J-P Papers, PAO. 11 Ibid., 30 March 1779. 12 Anne Powell to Dorothy Forbes, North Yarmouth, 17 January 1785, Revere Papers, MHS.

285 Notes to pages 132-6 13 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Inman, North Yarmouth, 19 February 1785, J-P Papers, PAO. 14 Same to same, North Yarmouth, 13 February 1785, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 6, MHS. It is interesting to note here that, since Jerry was born at the end of January 1784, he was breast-fed by his mother for a full twelve months before she attempted weaning him. Since breast-feeding tends to inhibit fertility, and since the average gap between births was two years and three months, it would appear that Anne most likely breast-fed all of her children for at least a year. 15 Anne Powell to Dorothy Forbes, Montreal, 14 March 1786, Revere Papers, MHS. 16 Ibid. 17 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Murray Robbins, Montreal, i August 1787, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 6, MHS. Since Jerry was only three and a half years old at the time of this letter, he was probably attending preparatory reading classes. See Gidney and Millar on such education for very young boys in colonial Canada in Inventing Secondary Education, 12. 18 Anne Powell to George Murray, Montreal, 26 April 1789, Murray Papers, NA. 19 Anne Powell Clarke to W.D. Powell, Montreal, 27 August 1791, J-P Papers, PAO. 20 Anne Powell to George Murray, Montreal, 26 April 1789, Murray Papers, NA. 21 Jane Powell to W.D. Powell, Ludlow, 8 July 1799, J-P Papers, PAO. 22 Ibid. 23 Ibid., 4 October 1799. 24 Riddell, 255. 25 Powell Autobiography, MTL. 26 Ibid. 27 "The Honbl William D. Powell in account current with Samuel P. Jarvis," 12 August 1827, Powell Papers, MTL. Even after Anne and William had retired to England, their son-inlaw Samuel Peters Jarvis made annual payments to William's widow, Sarah, on their behalf. 28 Anne Powell to George Murray, Niagara, 7 May 1804, Powell Papers, MTL.

29 Richard Cartwright to W.D. Powell, Kingston, 18 June 1804, J-P Papers, PAO. 30 Anne Powell to George Murray, Tolpuddle, 30 November 1828, Powell Papers, MTL. 31 Ibid., York, 21 May 1805.

a86 Notes to pages 136—46 32 Unless otherwise specified, information on Jeremiah's chequered career is taken from Riddell. 33 Anne Powell to Jeremiah Powell, 17 November 1803, Powell Papers, MTL.

34 35 36 37

Powell Autobiography, MTL. Powell Autobiography, J-P Papers, PAO, quoted in Riddell, 99. Ibid., 100. Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 11 September 1807, in "Powell Letters," 4. 38 Same to same, York, 24 January 1808, Powell Papers, MTL. 39 Ibid. 40 Ibid., 10 July 1808. 41 Ibid., 11 September 1808. 42 Jeremiah Powell to W.D. Powell, Curacao, 28 November 1808, Powell Papers, MTL, quoted in Riddell, 267-8. 43 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 22 January 1810, Powell Papers, MTL. 44 Ibid., 15 October 1809. 45 Powell Autobiography, MTL. 46-Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 21 May 1805, Powell Papers, MTL. 47 Ibid., lojuly 1808. 48 Ibid., 13 October 1809. 49 Ibid., 29 July 1809. 50 Ibid., 10 September 1811. 51 Couture, A Study of the Non-Regular Military Forces on the Niagara Frontier: 1812—1814, n.p. 52 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 6 May 1816, Powell Papers, MTL. 53 Ibid., 15 August 1821. 54 Ibid., 13 April 1817. 55 Ibid., 21 October 1822. 56 Ibid., 26January 1825. 57 Mary Jarvis to Anne Powell, York, 27 April 1827, Powell Papers, MTL. 58 Anne Powell to George Murray, Tolpuddle, 12 March 1827, Powell Papers, MTL. 59 Mary Powell to Anne Powell, York, 16 July 1827, Powell Papers, MTL. 60 Mary Jarvis to Anne Powell, York, 23 November 1828, Powell Papers, MTL.

61 W.D. Powell to S.P. Jarvis, Tolpuddle, 4 March 1829, Powell Papers, MTL. 62 Anne Powell to George Murray, Tolpuddle, 6 September 1829, Powell Papers, MTL.

287 Notes to pages 147—55 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75

76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85

Ibid., York, 21 May 1805. Ibid., 29 July 1809. Ibid., 15 October 1809. Ibid., 2 October 1818. Ibid., 23 November 1817. Ibid., 15 August 1826. Elizabeth Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 15 January 1823, J-P Papers, PAO. Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 26 January 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. Ibid., 30 June 1831. Ibid., 15 January 1832. Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, i February 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. Mary Jarvis to Anne Powell, York, 23 November 1828, Powell Papers, MTL. Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 7 September 1834, Powell Papers, MTL. As Premo has observed of other mothers and sons, "Once sons passed the difficult teenage years ... relationships changed. Older women enjoyed friendships with their sons based often on mutual respect but also tinged with a growing uncertainty over changing roles and responsibilities" (Winter Friends, 67). Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 11 June 1838, Powell Papers, MTL. Ibid. Ibid., 13 August 1838. Ibid., 8 March 1839. W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, Sandwich, 6 September 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. Paul Banfield, "A Loyalist Family" and "The Well-Regulated Family"; O'Dell, "Launching Loyalist Children." Burns, "God's Chosen People"; J.K. Johnson, Becoming Prominent; and Patterson, "Early Compact Groups in the Politics of York." Davidoff and Hall, Family Fortunes, 199. Morgan, " 'When Bad Men Conspire, Good Men Must Unite.' " Patterson, "Studies in Elections and Public Opinion in Upper Canada." CHAPTER SEVEN

1 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Robbins, Montreal, i August 1787, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 6, MHS. 2 Carroll Smith-Rosenberg, "The Female World of Love and Ritual," 334-

288 Notes to pages 155-60 3 Ibid., 342. On the closeness of the mother-daughter bond, see also Premo, Winter Friends, 58-63. 4 An example of this can be found in William's letter of 3 May 1822 to Anne Powell, Tolpuddle, Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA. 5 Elizabeth Powell to Mary B. Jarvis, York, 13 November 1819, J-P Papers, PAO. 6 Ibid., i5january 1823. 7 Mary Jarvis to her mother Anne Powell, York, 7 November 1825, Powell Papers, MTL. 8 Mary B. Powell to her grandmother Anne Powell, York, 19 November 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 9 Ibid. 10 Mary Jarvis to Anne Powell, York, 18 January 1827, Powell Papers, MTL. 11 Anne Powell to George Murray, Tolpuddle, 29 January 1827, Powell Papers, MTL. 12 Ibid., 12 March 1827. 13 Ibid., 22june 1827. 14 Ibid., 13 August 1827. 15 Ibid., 17 August 1827. 16 Ibid., 20 August 1827. 17 Ibid., York, 18 September 1829. 18 Ibid., 16 May 1811. 19 Ibid., 26 May 1811. 20 Hannah Jarvis to Rev. Samuel Peters, York, 24 October 1803, J-P Papers, vol. 2, NA. 21 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 7 May 1804, Powell Papers, MTL. As Prentice has pointed out, there were very few schools for girls in Upper Canada until the 18305 ("Towards a Feminist History of Women and Education," 52). 22 Anne Powell to Jeremiah Powell, York, 17 November 1803, Powell Papers, MTL. 23 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 20 May 1805, Powell Papers, MTL. 24 Ibid., Tolpuddle, 13 November 1828. 25 Ibid., York, 13 April 1817. 26 Smith-Rosenberg, "The Female World of Love and Ritual," 345. 27 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 25 November 1805, Powell Papers, MTL. 28 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Murray, York, 19 January 1806, Powell Papers, MTL. 29 Smith-Rosenberg, "The Female World of Love and Ritual," 344. 30 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Murray, York, 19 January 1806, Powell Papers, MTL.

289 Notes to pages 160-5 31 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 25 November 1805, Powell Papers, MTL. 32 Ibid., 27 October 1806. 33 Ibid., 16 May 1811. 34 Ibid., 29July 1809. 35 Ibid., 10 September 1811. On the value of accomplishments see Theobald, " 'Mere Accomplishments'?" and Gidney and Miller, Inventing Secondary Education, 15-19. 36 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 11 September 1808, Powell Papers, MTL. 37 Ibid., 13 December 1806. 38 Ibid., 20 November 1808. 39 Ibid., 14 October 1809. 40 Ibid., 16 May 1811. 41 Ibid., 22 February 1812. 42 Ibid., 13 December 1806. 43 Ibid., 24January 1808. 44 Ibid., 2 2 January 1810. 45 Ibid., 27 October 1811. 46 Ibid., 11 September 1807. 47 Ibid., 23 June 1810. 48 Ibid., 7 August 1811. 49 Peter Ward, "Courtship and Social Space in Nineteenth-Century English Canada." 50 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 29 December 1806, Powell Papers, MTL. 51 Ibid., 17 April 1807. 52 Ibid., 22june 1812. 53 Ibid., 7 February 1819. 54 Ibid., 13 November 1809. 55 Ibid., 26 May 1811. 56 Ibid., 30June 1811. 57 Ibid., 9 April 1815. 58 Ibid., 13 April 1817. 59 Firth, The Town of York 1793-1815, Ixxiv and 201. 60 Thomas G. Ridout to George Ridout, i June 1816; and to his mother, 21 June 1816, Ridout Papers, PAO. See the Ridout Papers for more information on Elizabeth Jarvis's and Sally Ridout's education at Montreal. 61 Catherine Prendergast to Penelope Prendergast, Albany, 25 December 1809, W.H. Merrill Papers, PAO. 62 Mary B. Powell to her aunt Anne Powell, New York, 11 July 1816, Powell Papers, MTL. 63 Vanderpoel, Chronicles of a Pioneer School, 189.

ago Notes to pages 165-8 64 Ibid., 405-8. 65 Catherine Prendergast to Penelope Prendergast, Albany, 25 December 1809, W.H. Merritt Papers, PAO. 66 There are several school journals reprinted in Vanderpoel, Chronicles of a Pioneer School. See, for example, Eliza Ogden's journal 1816—18, 160-76. 67 Vanderpoel, Chronicles of a Pioneer School, Mary Chester to her mother, Litchfield, 2 9 May 1819, 190. 68 Cott, The Bonds of Womanhood, 125. Historians agree that schools for girls mushroomed in early nineteenth-century America in response to an increased demand for female education. What they do not completely agree upon is the quality of these schools, which were unsupervised by any state authority. MacLear claims that "The teachers in the private schools were far from competent since there was no standard to maintain" (The History of the Education of Girls in New York and New England 1800—18 jo, 30). Delamont agrees, pointing out that the situation was "bad," and that "middle-class and upper-class girls were only taught accomplishments, and not instructed in academic subjects or domestic skills" ("The Contradictions in Ladies' Education," 138). Lebsock, however, observes that, before 1815, "the standard curriculum for girls was reading, writing, sometimes arithmetic, and needlework." She emphasizes that needlework was "no joke" and that sewing skills were essential to women of all classes. After 1815, what was taught at Petersburg schools expanded to include subjects such as geography, history, and chemistry. Lebsock admits that the quality of schools varied but claims that the best were "rigorous" (The Free Women of Petersburg, 173—4). ^ n the light of Theobald's revisionist work, we now need to see the "accomplishments curriculum" in the more positive light that Lebsock describes. For a broad survey of women's education in the United States, see Woody, A History of Women's Education in the United States. 69 Sarah Pierce, "Dialogue Between Miss Trusty and Her Pupils" (c. 1820), in Vanderpoel, Chronicles of a Pioneer School, 214. 70 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 9 July 1816, Powell Papers, MTL. 71 Ibid., 18 September 1816. 72 Ibid., 24 February 1817. 73 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, New York, 11 May 1816, Powell Papers, MTL. 74 W.D. Powell to daughter Anne Powell, York, 3 January 1817, Powell Papers, MTL. 75 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 24 February 1817, Powell Papers, MTL.

2gi Notes to pages 168-76 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93

Ibid., 13 April 1817. Ibid., 7 July 1817. Ibid., 26July 1817. Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 31 August 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. W.D. Powell to George Murray, York, i October 1817, Powell Papers, MTL. Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 22 December 1817, Powell Papers, MTL. Ibid., 26July 1817. Ibid., 31 August 1817. Ibid., 12 August 1817. Ibid., 23 November 1817. Ibid., 19July 1819. Ibid., 10 March 1820. Ibid., 27 November 1820. Ibid., 10January 1821. Ibid., 17 August 1825. Ibid., 26July 1825. Ibid., January-February 1825. Ibid., Norwich, 2gjanuary 1827. CHAPTER EIGHT

1 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, lojuly 1808, Powell Papers, MTL. Rothman finds that from 1770 to 1840 in the United States parents similarly "permitted their children a great deal of latitude when it came to choosing a mate" (Hands and Hearts, 27). 2 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 25 September 1810, Powell Papers, MTL. 3 Ibid., 2 7 October 1811. 4 Miss Baldwin to Elizabeth Russell, Niagara, 2 4 December 1811, Baldwin Papers, PAO. 5 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 22 February 1812, Powell Papers, MTL. 6 Ibid., 4 April 1812. 7 Rothman, Hands and Hearts, 56-7. 8 Ibid., 73. 9 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 7 April 1815, Powell Papers, MTL. 10 Ibid., 27 November 1817. 11 Ibid., 6 September 1818. 12 Ibid., 2 October 1818.

292 Notes to pages 176-82 13 Ward, "Courtship and Social Space in Nineteenth-Century English Canada," 61. 14 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 2 October 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. 15 Ibid., 12 July 1824. 16 Ibid., 8 January 1825. 17 Ibid., i November 1824. 18 Ibid., 2 April 1825. 19 Ibid., 27 May 1831. 20 Ibid., 19 May 1834. 21 Ibid., 27 June 1835. 22 Ibid., 29 January 1840. 23 Ibid., 28 November 1839. 24 Ibid., 17 September 1839. 25 Ibid., 5 October 1842. 26 Ibid., 12 July 1824. 27 Ibid., i November 1824. 28 Ibid., 17 May 1825. 29 Ibid., 8 October 1825. 30 Ibid., 13 February 1826. 31 Ibid., 27 October 1825. 32 Ibid., 13 February 1826. 33 Ibid., 18 October 1825. 34 Ibid., 27 October 1825. 35 William Dummer Powell to George Murray, York, 5 January 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 36 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 15 February 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 37 Ibid., 27 October 1825. 38 Ibid., 19 December 1825. 39 Ibid., 18 October 1825. 40 Ibid. 41 Ibid., 7june 1826. 42 Ibid., isjuly 1826. 43 Ibid., 23 August 1826. 44 Ibid., 15 August 1826. 45 Ibid., 22july 1826. 46 Ibid., 13July 1826. 47 Ibid., 4 October 1826. 48 Mary Jarvis to Anne Powell, York, 7 November 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 49 Mary Jarvis to Elizabeth Powell, York, 26 November 1826, Powell Papers, MTL.

293 Notes to pages 182-8 50 Ibid. 51 Mary B. Powell to her grandmother Anne Powell, York, 7 July 1828, Powell Papers, MTL. 52 Mary Jarvis to Anne Powell, York, 7 July 1828, Powell Papers, MTL. 53 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 11 August 1828, Powell Papers, MTL. 54 W.D. Powell to granddaughter Mary B. Powell, Tolpuddle, 12 August 1828, Powell Papers, MTL. 55 Antenuptial contract of Anne Murray Powell and William C. Gwynne, York, 4 May 1835, J-P Papers, PAO. 56 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 5 June 1835, Powell Papers, MTL. 57 Leavitt, Brought to Bed, 20. 58 Smith-Rosenberg, "The Female World of Love and Ritual," 347. 59 Scholten, " 'On the Importance of the Obstetrick Art.' " Biggs describes how this process occurred in Upper Canada in her article "The Case of the Missing Mid wives." 60 Leavitt, Brought to Bed, 87. 61 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 4 December 1832, Powell Papers, MTL. 62 Ibid., 20 November 1808, 10 September 1811. 63 Ibid., 19July 1819. 64 Ibid., 7 September 1819. 65 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, York, 8 September 1819, Powell Papers, MTL. 66 Anne Powell to George Murray, Queenston, 9 September 1819, Powell Papers, MTL. 68 Ibid., York, 19 September 1819. 68 Ibid., 10 October 1819. 69 Ibid., 10 March 1820. 70 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Robbins, York, 25 June 1820, J.M. Robbins Papers, vol. 7, MHS. 71 Anne Powell to George Murray, Queenston, 21 August 1820, Powell Papers, MTL. 72 Ibid., Queenston, 23 August 1820. 73 Ibid., York, 24 June 1821. 74 Samuel Peters Jarvis to W.D. Powell, York, 28 October 1828, Powell Papers, MTL. 75 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 13 March 1830, Powell Papers, MTL. 76 Ibid., 4 April 1830. 77 Ibid., 5 May 1830. 78 Ibid., 26 May 1830.

2 94 Notes to pages 188-5 79 80 81 82 83

Ibid., 9 November 1836. Ibid., 30 December 1836. Ibid., 30July 1838. Ibid., 16 October 1838 and 3 June 1840. William Botsford Jarvis to "George," Toronto 29 June 1834, W.B. Jarvis Papers, letterbook, NA. CHAPTER N I N E

1 Russell, "Attitudes to Social Structure and Social Mobility in Upper Canada 1815-1840." 2 McLaren, in his article "Birth Control and Abortion in Canada 1870— 1920," points out that there was not a dramatic drop in the birth rate in Ontario until after 1870. 3 Russell, "Attitudes in Social Structure and Social Mobility in Upper Canada 1815-1840," 315. 4 Kingston Gazette, 2 October 1810. 5 Errington, "The Softer Sex." 6 John Strachan's eulogy delivered at the funeral of Richard Cartwright, 1815, in Cartwright, The Life and Letters of Richard Cartwright 1759-1815, 24. 7 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 2 October 1818, Powell Papers, MTL.

8 9 10 11 12

13

14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Ibid., 7 May 1804. Ibid., 9 October 1805. Ibid., 29 July 1809. Ibid., 16 May 1811. Marriage was an important way in which the Upper Canadian elite consolidated and maintained power. Nelles comments on this in his article "Loyalism and Local Power." Anne Powell to George Murray, York, August 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. For other information on Samuel Peters Jarvis, see the biography by Leighton and Burns in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, 8:430-3. Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 2 October 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. Rothman, Hands and Hearts, 37. Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 2 October 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. Ibid., 15 March 1819. Ibid., 17 May 1819. Ibid., 19July 1819. Ibid., 9 September 1819.

295 Notes to pages 195—200 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

32 33

Ibid., 10 October 1819. Ibid., 10 March 1820. Ibid., 24 June 1821. Ibid., i December 1821, 25 March 1822, 18 April 1822. Samuel Peters Jarvis to Mary Jarvis, York, 21 November 1823, J-P Papers, PAO. Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, New York, 23 August 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. Mary Jarvis to Anne Powell, York, 22 May 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. Ibid., 7 November 1826. Ibid., 7 November 1826. Mary Jarvis to Elizabeth Powell, York, 26 November 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. Mary Jarvis to Anne Powell, York, 18 January 1827. As Cott points out, although the writers of conduct books may have feared the potential for dissipation in the leisure activities of females, in practice once women were married they had little time for recreation. "Childcare and housekeeping, including sewing, remained demanding enough to consume most of married women's time and energy," she observes. "Women's domestic occupations have been confused with leisure because of the contrast they offered to men's occupations outside of the home, and because of the conflation of the two contrasts, work/leisure, work/home. But only the small elite who could employ numerous servants had leisure to speak of (The Bonds of Womanhood, 48). Mary Jarvis to Elizabeth Powell, York, 27 April 1827, Powell Papers, MTL. Ibid., 30July 1827.

34 Ibid., 15 September 1827. 35 Ibid., 5 May 1828. 36 Ibid., 7 July 1828. As Leavitt has pointed out, Mary's fears were not exaggerated. "Nine months of gestation could mean nine months to prepare for death," she writes. "A possible death sentence came with every pregnancy" (Brought to Bed, 20). 37 Mary Jarvis to Elizabeth Powell, York, 23 November 1828, Powell Papers, MTL. 38 Ibid., 28 January 1829. 39 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 18 October 1829, Powell Papers, MTL. 40 Ibid., 4 April 1830. 41 Ibid., 19 March 1832. 42 Ibid., 22 April 1836. According to Leavitt, white American women bore an average of more than seven live children (Brought to Bed, 20).

296 Notes to pages 200-5

43 44 45 46

47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

If Canadian women were similar, then Mary's fertility would be a little above average with nine live births. Mary Jarvis to Anne Powell, York, 4 June 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. Ibid., 15 September 1827. Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 20 April 1832, Powell Papers, MTL. Leighton and Burns, Dictionary of Canadian Biography, 431. Unless otherwise cited, biographical information on Samuel Peters Jarvis is taken from this source. Memorial of Samuel Peters Jarvis to Lieutenant-Governor Sir George Arthur, 1838, MGll, "Q" Series, vol. 48, part i, 212, NA. Mary Jarvis to S.P. Jarvis, Toronto, 10 April 1843, J-P Papers, PAO. Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 23 September, Powell Papers, MTL. Samuel Peters Jarvis Letterbook, Powell Papers, MTL. Anne Powell to George Murray, Tolpuddle, 22 June 1827, Powell Papers, MTL. Ibid., Toronto, 3 October 1834. Ibid., lojune 1844. Mary Jarvis to Anne Powell, York, 21 February 1828, Powell Papers, MTL. Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 27 February 1819, Powell Papers, MTL. Ibid., Toronto, 5 July 1841. Ibid., 11 November 1841. S.P. Jarvis to Mary Jarvis, Niagara, 21 November 1823, J-P Papers, PAO.

59 Mary Jarvis to S.P. Jarvis, Toronto, 10 April 1843, J-P Papers, PAO. See Bloch, "American Feminine Ideals in Transition," on the development of this new role for women as moral arbiters. 60 S.P. Jarvis to Mary Jarvis, Kingston, 27 February 1843, J-P Papers, PAO. 61 Ibid., 27 March 1843. 62 Ibid., 14 April 1842. 63 Ibid., Niagara, 10 January 1838. 64 Ibid., Kingston, 30 March 1843. 65 Ibid., i February 1843. 66 Mary and Samuel's more "companionate" marriage was typical of their era. See Lebsock's chapter "The Political Economy of Marriage" in The Free Women of Petersburg, 15-33. On the new role for fathers, see Davidoff and Hall, Family Fortunes, esp. 329-35, and Tosh, "Domesticity and Manliness." 67 S.P. Jarvis to Mary Jarvis, Kingston, 18 March 1843, J-P Papers, PAO.

2Q7 Notes to pages 205-11 68 Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 19 July 1835, Powell Papers, MTL. 69 Ibid., 16 November 1835. 70 S.P. Jarvis to Mary Jarvis, Kingston, 23 March 1843, J-P Papers, PAO. 71 Hannah Jarvis to Rev. Samuel Peters, York, 5 February 1806, J-P Papers, vol. 2, NA. 72 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 13 February 1807, Powell Papers, MTL. 73 Ibid., 4 September 1807. 74 See Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 23 May 1807 and Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 4 September 1807; lojuly 1808; 4 September 1809. 75 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 13 November 1809, Powell Papers, MTL. 76 Ibid., 8 December 1810. 77 Ibid., 17 March 1811. 78 Ibid., 25 September 1810. 79 Ibid., 10 September 1811. 80 Ibid., 27 October 1811. 81 Ibid., 22 February 1812. 82 Ibid., 4 April 1812. 83 Biographical information on John Beverley Robinson, unless otherwise noted, is taken from Erode, Sir John Beverley Robinson. 84 Murney, "Recollections of Mary Warren Breckenridge," 23. 85 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 7 April 1815, Powell Papers, MTL. 86 W.D. Powell to George Murray, York, i July 1815, Powell Papers, MTL.

87 Daughter Anne Powell to George Murray, York, i November 1815, Powell Papers, MTL. 88 Anne Powell to George Murray, 15 March 1816, Powell Papers, MTL. 89 Anne Powell to daughter Anne Powell, 6 May 1816, Powell Papers, MTL. 90 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell [the elder], New York, 11 May 1816, Powell Papers, MTL. 91 Ibid., 13 May 1816. 92 Ibid., London, 14 June 1816. 93 Daughter Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 11 November 1815, Powell Papers, MTL. 94 Anne Powell to George Murray, 9 July 1816, Powell Papers, MTL. 95 Ibid., 12 June 1816. 96 Emma Walker to John Beverley Robinson, London, July 1816, Robinson Papers, PAO.

298 Notes to pages 211-18 97 J.B. Robinson to Emma Walker, 4july 1816, Robinson Papers, PAO. 98 Emma Walker to J.B. Robinson, c. August 1816, Robinson Papers, PAO. 99 See Jarvis, Three Centuries of Robinsons, 116—23, and Brode, Sir John Beverley Robinson, 34. 100 John Strachan to J.B. Robinson, York, 30 September 1816, Robinson Papers, PAO. 101 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 15 June 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. 102 W.D. Powell to daughter Anne Powell, York, 3 January 1817, Powell Papers, MTL. 103 Daughter Anne Powell to Anne Powell, Norwich, 6 September 1818, J-P Papers, PAO. 104 Mary Boyles Browne to Mrs James B. Murray, Norwich, 15 March 1818, box 3, NYHS. 105 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 12 August 1817, Powell Papers, MTL. 106 Ibid., 19 October 1817. 107 Ibid., 2 October 1818. 108 Daughter Anne Powell to Anne Powell, Norwich, 6 September 1818, J-P Papers, PAO. 109 Daughter Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, Tolpuddle, 6 February 1818, W.D. Powell Correspondence, vol. i, NA. no Ibid. 111 Ibid. 112 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 2 August 1819, "Powell Letters," 31 and John Strachan to Alexander Hamilton, York, 5 January 1830, Strachan Letterbooks, PAO, quoted in Firth, The Town of York 1815—1834, 183. For a discussion of the new role of women teaching in Sunday Schools, see Boylan, "Evangelical Womanhood in the Nineteenth Century." 113 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 31 October 1819, Powell Papers, MTL. 114 Ibid., 18 December 1819. 115 Ibid., 5 April 1820. 116 Anne Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 13 November 1819, J-P Papers, PAO. 117 Elizabeth Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 13 November 1819, J-P Papers, PAO. 118 Anne Powell to George Murray, 29 November 1819, Powell Papers, MTL. 119 Daughter Anne Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, c. 1820, J-P Papers, PAO.

299 Notes to pages 218-22 120 Elizabeth Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 13 November 1819, J-P Papers, PAO. 121 Christian Recorder, York, Upper Canada, i, no. 10 (December 1819): 402. The name of the publisher is not known. The Christian Recorder stopped publication in 1821. The only complete holdings of this periodical are found in the Trinity College Library, University of Toronto. 122 Christian Recorder, i, no. 10 (December 1819): 391-2. 123 Ibid., 2, no. i (March 1820): 25. In introducing this second article, the author wrote, "At the commencement of the present year, I perhaps presumptuously offered a few reflections, which you received most kindly. ... Encouraged by your flattering reception of my attempt, and knowing that example is frequently to the young, what precept may be expected to be to the more advanced in life, I venture to address to you, and through you, if you please, to the public, a little Tale, selected for its entirely religious import; uncertain of its fate, I only transmit the first part for your next Christian Recorder." What followed was the romantic "History of Eveleen," about a young woman who was the embodiment of all virtues. The sequel to this first part was never published, and the story did not advance beyond the description of Eveleen's many admirable qualities. 124 Daughter Anne Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, c. 1820, J-P Papers, PAO. 125 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 5 April 1820, Powell Papers, MTL. 126 Ibid., 23 August 1820. 127 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, August 1820, Powell Papers, MTL. 128 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 14 October 1820, Powell Papers, MTL. 129 Ibid., 21 February 1821. 130 John Strachan to Anne Powell, York, 24 December 1820, S.P. Jarvis Papers, MTL. 131 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 10 February 1821, Powell Papers, MTL. 132 Ibid., 15 August 1821. 133 Davidoff and Hall, Family Fortunes, 338. 134 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 10 February 1821, Powell Papers, MTL. 135 Ibid., 17 April 1821. 136 Ibid., 4 October 1821. 137 Ibid., i December 1821. 138 Ibid., 15 August 1821. 139 Lefroy, Autobiography, quoted in Jarvis, Three Centuries of Robinsons, 119-21 and Erode, Sir John Beverley Robinson, 77-9.

300 Notes to pages 222-4 It is unfortunate that Brode's recent Dictionary of Canadian Biography entry on Anne Powell (the daughter) repeats Lefroy's unsubstantiated version of events. He also misreads her mother's letter of 16 May 1811 to George Murray (Powell Papers, MTL) in which she discusses how her daughter Anne's return trip from New York via Montreal is to be financed, given that her husband's receipt of "Certificates of Service" would not be for some weeks yet and their means were tight. Brode takes this to mean that "In 1811 she studied in Montreal with the intention of obtaining a teacher's certificate." Not only did Anne merely stop by Montreal on her return from New York, but the suggestion that teaching certificates were granted by any institution at that early period is an anachronism. Similarly, Brode asserts without any substantiation that "Anne remained in England with her relatives until her stubborn disposition and disregard of the expenses to which she put others made her an unwelcome burden" (6:604). More recently, Patterson in "Early Compact Groups in the Politics of York" cites Riddell's biography of William Dummer Powell as his source for the contention that Anne "was obsessed by the young man to the point of madness" (184—5). More recently, the popular history publication the Beaver repeated the same story about Anne Powell and John Beverley Robinson, although more sympathetically written by Chris Raible, in "All for Love: A Tragedy of the Heart in Old Upper Canada," 72 (1992-3): 32-7. 140 Brode, John Beverley Robinson, 77. Quoted from daughter Anne Powell to Anne Powell, Norwich, 16 September 1818, J-P Papers, PAO. 141 John Strachan to J.B. Robinson, York, 30 September 1816, Robinson Papers, PAO. 142 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, i February 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 143 Ibid., 7 February 1819. 144 Anne Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 20 January 1821, Powell Papers, MTL. 145 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Powell, York, 2©January 1821, Powell Papers, MTL. 146 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, 18 April 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 147 Lefroy Autobiography, quoted in Jarvis, Three Centuries of Robinsons, 120. 148 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 18 April 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 149 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 25 January 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 150 W.B. Robinson to S.P. Jarvis, York, 28 January 1822, J-P Papers, PAO. 151 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 2 8 January 1821, Powell Papers, MTL.

301 Notes to pages 224-9 152 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, 29January 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 153 Elizabeth Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 18 February 1822, J-P Papers, PAO. 154 Anne Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 3 February 1822, J-P Papers, PAO. 155 Elizabeth Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 18 February 1822, J-P Papers, PAO. 156 Anne Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 3 February 1822, J-P Papers, PAO. 157 Elizabeth Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 18 February J-P Papers, PAO. 158 Anne Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 3 February 1822, J-P Papers, PAO. 159 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 25 February 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 160 Anne Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 3 March 1822, J-P Papers, PAO. 161 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, i February 1822, Powell Papers, MTL.

162 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, London, 14 March 1822, W.D. Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA. 163 Ibid., 9 February 1822. 164 Ibid., 10 February 1822 and 23 March 1822. 165 Ibid., 20 February 1822. 166 Auerbach, Woman and the Demon. 167 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, London, 8 April 1822, W.D. Powell Papers, NA. 168 Ibid., 18 April 1822. 169 Ibid., 8 April 1822. 170 Ibid., 18 April 1822. 171 Ibid., 4 May 1822. 172 Jacob Harvey to W.D. Powell, London, 156 June 1822, J-P Papers, PAO. 173 W.D. Powell to Anne Powell, London, 3 May 1822, Powell Papers, vol. 4, NA. 174 Ibid., Tonbridge, 20June 1822. 175 Anne Powell, to W.D. Powell, York, 13 June 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 176 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 14 June Powell Papers, MTL. 177 Ibid., 27 June 1823. 178 Elizabeth Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 12 June 1822, J-P Papers, PAO. 179 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 14 May 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 180 Ibid., i4july 1822. 181 For an excellent discussion of how woman's oppression in society could result in mental illness for a slightly later period, see Showalter's book, The Female Malady. 182 S.P. Jarvis to Mary Jarvis, Niagara, 21 November 1823, J-P Papers,

302 Notes to pages 229—32 PAO. This letter, in which is described how both Mrs Robinson and the Powells declined to attent a dinner party for fear that they might meet, has been used to suggest a lasting rift between the families. There are many examples of social relations in latter correspondence, however, especially among the younger generation. For example, see Ann Jane Powell to Mary Powell, York, 5 February 1826, J-P Papers, PWO; Mary Powell to Anne Powell, York, 19 October 1826; Mary Jarvis to W.D. Powell, York, 8 March 1827; Mary Jarvis to Anne Powell, York, 23 November 1828; Anne Powell to George Murray, 19 May 1834; Powell Papers, MTL. 183 Erode, Sir John Beverley Robinson, 261. 184 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 18 April 1824, Powell Papers, MTL.

185 Ibid., 13 February 1826. 186 Ibid., 2 2 April 1836. 187 Anne Powell to George Murray, Montreal, 26 April 1789, Murray Papers, MTL. 188 Ibid., York, 25 November 1805. 189 Ibid. 190 Ibid., 9 October 1805. 191 Ibid., 27 October 1811. 192 Ibid., 22 February 1812. 193 Ibid., 7 April 1815. 194 Ibid., 18 September 1816; 26 July 1817; i April 1818. 195 S.P. Jarvis to Mary Powell, Queenston, 30 August 1818, J-P Papers, PAO. 196 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 2 October 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. 197 Ibid., 8 November 1818. 198 Ibid., 7 February 1819. 199 Davidoff and Hall, Family Fortunes, 329. 200 Elizabeth Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 13 November 1819, J-P Papers, PAO. 201 Ibid., 15 January 1823. 202 Anne Powell to George Murray, 31 October 1819, Powell Papers, MTL. 203 Ibid., 5 April 1820. 204 Ibid., 14 October 1820. 205 Anne Powell to Elizabeth Powell, York, 2 February 1822, J-P Papers, PAO. 206 Ibid., 23 February 1822. 207 Elizabeth Powell to Mary Jarvis, York, 18 February 1822, J-P Papers, PAO.

208 Ibid., 12June 1822.

303 Notes to pages 232-5 209 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 12 June 1822, Powell Papers, MTL. 210 Ibid., 21 October 1822 and 3 July 1822. 211 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, New York, 7 August 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 212 Ibid., 23 August 1826. 213 Anne Powell to George Murray, Liverpool, 24 November 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 214 Ibid., Tolpuddle, 4 October 1828. 215 Mary Powell to Anne Powell, York, i July 1828, Powell Papers, MTL. 216 Cott, Bonds of Womanhood, 80-1. 217 Chambers-Schiller, Liberty, A Better Husband. 218 Gisborne, An Enquiry into the Duties of the Female Sex, 221. On women's charitable work in the United States, see Ginsberg, Women and the Work of Benevolence; A.F. Scott, Making the Invisible Woman Visible, esp. 259—94; anc^ Melder, "Ladies Bountiful." For the British context, see Davidoffand Hall Family Fortunes, esp. 252-94. Boylan also examines the rise of charitable activity connected to the growth of the evangelical movement in the United States within the specific context of Sunday Schools ("Evangelical Womanhood in the Nineteenth Century"). For women's charitable work in Upper Canada see McKenna, " 'The Union between Faith and Good Works.' " 219 Gibbon and Mathewson, Three Centuries of Canadian Nursing, 77. 220 Anne Powell to W.D. Powell, York, loMay 1813, Powell Papers, MTL. 221 Ibid., lojune 1813. 222 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 19 October 1817, Powell Papers, MTL. 223 Bell, Hints to Emigrants, 197. 224 Strachan to Hamilton, York, 5 January 1820, Strachan Letterbooks, PAO, from Firth, The Town of York 1815-1834. 225 "At a Meeting of a Few of the Ladies of York ..." 21 October 1820. JP Papers, PAO; "At a Meeting of the Governesses of the Society ..." 21 November 1821, MTL. 226 Anne Powell to George Murray, 5 December 1825, PoweD Papers, MTL. 227 Fitzgibbson, "Lady Colborne's Bazaar," 10. 228 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 25 November 1837, Powell Papers, MTL. On the founding of the House of Industry, see Speisman, "Municificent Parson," 37. 229 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 26 May 1830, Powell Papers, MTL. 230 Ibid., Toronto, 4July 1836. Lebsock finds that, in Petersburg, "The

304 Notes to pages 236-44

231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239

240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251

most commonplace means of raising money was the 'ladies' fair"" (The Free Women of Petersburg, 218). Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 30 December 1836, Powell Papers, MTL. Ibid., 19July 1835. Ibid., 17 January 1834. Ibid., 13 August 1838. Ibid., York, 20 April 1832. Ibid., Toronto, 24 September 1838. Ibid., 25 March 1841. Ibid., 15 August 1843. Ibid., 4 August 1844. Lebsock has found that in Petersburg the favouring of daughters in wills written by women was typical (The Free Women of Petersburg, 135). George Murray to Elizabeth Powell, Brooklyn, 3 July 1847, J-P Papers, PAO. S.P. Jarvis to Mary Jarvis, Toronto, 16 March 1853, J-P Papers, PAO. S.P. Jarvis Jr to Mary Jarvis, Stirling, 10 January 1854, J-P Papers, PAO. Elizabeth Powell to Mary Jarvis, Edinburgh, 15 February 1854, J-P Papers, PAO. S.P. Jarvis Jr to Mary Jarvis, Edinburgh, 27 April 1854, J-P Papers, PAO. Elizabeth Powell to Mary Jarvis, Edinburgh, 15 February 1854, J-P Papers, PAO. Ibid., 2 March 1854. Ibid., London, lojune 1854. Ibid., 28 June 1854. Ibid., 6 July 1854. S.P. Jarvis Jr to Mary Jarvis, Bath, 17 January 1856, J-P Papers, PAO. Mary Jarvis to Dr Gwynne, Toronto, 13 May 1857, J-P Papers, PAO. CHAPTER TEN

1 Anne Powell to Sammy Jarvis, Tolpuddle, 24 March 1827, J-P Papers, PAO. 2 Mary Powell to Elizabeth Powell, York, 19 December 1826, Powell Papers, MTL. 3 Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 19 July 1835, Powell Papers, MTL. 4 Ibid., York, 29 April 1833. 5 Ibid., Toronto, 12 April 1842. 6 Ibid., 13 May 1835.

305 Notes to pages 244-51 7 Ibid., 21 February 1842. 8 William B. Jarvis to Anne Powell, Toronto, 8 June 1846, W.D. Powell Papers, NA. 9 Anne Powell to George Murray, 15 August 1843, Powell Papers, MTL. 10 Ibid., 2 February 1844. 11 Ibid., 9 December 1844. 12 Ibid., 13 July 1843. 13 Ibid., 28 February 1843. 14 Ibid., York, iGJanuary 1824. 15 Premo, Winter Friends, 121. 16 Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 27 April 1818, Powell Papers, MTL. 17 Ibid., Tolpuddle, 4 October 1828. 18 Ibid., Toronto, 24 May 1826. 19 Ibid., 13 June 1843. 20 William B. Jarvis to George Jarvis, York, 3 April 1833, W.B. Jarvis Papers, letterbook, NA. 21 Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 7 March 1835, Powell Papers, MTL. 22 Ibid., 13 May 1835. 23 Ibid., 10August 1836. 24 Ibid., 18 May 1835. 25 Ibid., 13 August 1836. 26 Ibid., 27 March 1837. 27 Ibid., 12 May 1837. 28 Ibid., 27 December 1837. 29 Ibid., 16 October 1839. 30 Ibid., 5 July 1841. 31 Samuel P. Jarvis to Mary Jarvis, Kingston, 17 December 1841, J-P Papers, PAO. 32 Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 22 March 1842, Powell Papers, MTL. 33 Ibid., 22 May 1843. 34 Ibid., 22 October 1842. 35 Ibid., 13June 1843. 36 Ibid., lojune 1844. 37 Ibid., 2 August 1842. 38 Ibid., 21 September 1842. 39 Ibid., 18 September 1844. 40 Ibid., 21 May 1831. 41 Ibid., 20 December 1831. 42 Ibid., 3 October 1834. 43 Ibid., 17 December 1835.

306 Notes to pages 252-6 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

52 53

54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71

Ibid., 18 May 1835. Ibid., 8 March 1839. Ibid., 24 March 1839. Ibid., 31 January 1839. Ibid., 17June 1839. Ibid., 5 July 1941. Ibid., 24July 1844. Ibid., 21 September 1841. Fischer, in his gender-blind study, Growing Old in America, sees the post-revolutionary era as a time of transition in the respect and status accorded to the elderly. Their loss of power, he argues, corresponded to a growing "Cult of Youth." Premo, in Winter Friends, argues in contrast that old women in particular, with their deeply interdependent relationships with female friends and relatives in the domestic sphere, had a strong sense of purpose and direction in the final years of life. Anne seems to have fallen somewhere between these two models. In early old age, she fit Premo's model more closely than Fischer's, and it may simply be the extreme old age that she lived to that accounts for the alienation of her latter days. Anne Powell to George Murray, York, 27 November 1820. Romney, "A Struggle for Authority," 10. On the physical and social changes that had taken place in Toronto, see also Firth, The Town of York 1815-1834 and Armstrong, "Metropolitanism and Toronto Reexamined, 1825-1850." Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 24 May 1836, Powell Papers, MTL. Ibid., 27 March 1837. Ibid., 18June 1836. Ibid., 30 December 1836. Ibid. Ibid., 22 April 1836. Ibid., 9 July 1836. Ibid., 6 December 1837. Ibid., 7 March 1838. Ibid., 6 December 1837. Ibid., 7 March 1838. Ibid., 16 May 1839. Ibid., 21 September 1842. Ibid., 8 December 1841. Ibid., 26June 1839. Ibid., 16 October 1839. Ibid., 24July 1839. Ibid., 9 November 1839.

307 Notes to pages 256-60

72 Ibid., 26June 1839. 73 Ibid., 2 January 1840. 74 Ibid., 5 July 1841. 75 Ibid., 5 October 1842. 76 Mary Jarvis to Samuel P. Jarvis, Toronto, 10 April 1843, J-P Papers, PAO. 77 Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, lojune 1844, Powell Papers, MTL. 78 Ibid., 15 August 1843. 79 Ibid., 24 July 1844. Ward uses Anne Powell's letter to George Murray of 17 September 1839, in which she condemns Elizabeth and comments in a shocked way about the uncertain paternity of her unborn child, as an example of unwed motherhood. Anne was not condemning this, but rather adultery, which is not to suggest that she would not have been equally censorious if Elizabeth had been unmarried when she ran off with Grogan ("Unwed Motherhood in NineteenthCentury English Canada," 46). 80 Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 16 October 1838. 81 Ibid., 31 January 1839. 82 Ibid., 16 October 1838. 83 Ibid., 2 January 1840. 84 Ibid., York, 27 October 1833. 85 Ibid., Toronto, 18 September 1840. Part of Anne's horror at her occupation as a milliner may have stemmed from an association in the popular mind between such low-paid female employments and prostitution. Katz speculates that, in order to survive, women in these jobs must have had to supplement their incomes with prostitution (The People of Hamilton, Canada West, 58). 86 Anne Powell to George Murray, Toronto, 5 February 1838. 87 Ibid., 6 December 1837. 88 Ibid., ijune 1841. 89 Ibid., 25 April 1843. 90 Ibid., 28 May 1844.

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Index

Cartwright, Richard, 69, 136 Champlin, Mr C., 47, 50 Chapone, Hester, 42 Charitable work, middleclass women's, 82—3, 191, 234-6, 239, 253, 3osn2i8 Chesterfield, Earl of, 3-7 passim, 12, 95 2O9, 2 1 2 , 222 Chewett, Alexander, Boyles, Mary (Murray) 179^83,229 (mother of Anne Murray Powell), 8, 24, 46, Childbirth, 184-9, 195~ 200 passim, 293059; 55, 113, 123 dangers of, 185-6, Breast cancer, 238 Breast-feeding, 132, 188, 187-9, 198-9. 295^6; female support in, »95» 197. 28sni4 Bridgeon, Mr, 28, 36, 46 184-9, 195-9. 207, 212,221,229 Brock, Major-General Christian Recorder, 218— Isaac, 77 Baldwin, William 19, 220, 225, 2990121 Browne, Captain, 125 Warren, 75 and ni23 Browne, Mary Boyles, Banister, Mrs, 34, 35 Clark, John Innes, 118, Barnes, Christian, 29, 30, 213,245,249 121, 122 3L35 Clarke, Isaac Winslow, Bazaars, 235-6, 251, 253, Campbell, Captain Thomas, 28 303-4n230 48-9. 133. 207 Coffin, Col. Thomas Cartwright, Hannah, Bennet, Rev. John, 26, Astin, 59, 84, 85, 175 28 191 Colbourne, Lady, 235 Biography, feminist, Cartwright, Mary, 162, Companionate marriage: 163, 207 16-19, 264^0

Accomplishments, 24-6, 27, 161, 164-6, 169—70, 191, 193, 205, 206, 210, 216 Accomplishments curriculum, 24-6, 27, 164—5, 205, 210, 216, 2gon68 Alcohol consumption in York, 79 Allcock, Henry, 64, 65 Anglicanism at York, 65 Antenuptial contracts, 28, 117-18, 183-4 Aristocracy, middle-class critique of, 4—7, 10, 12, 24, 26 Arthur, Sir George, 200

Birth control, use in Upper Canada, 187 Birthrate in Upper Canada, 190, 199—200, 29402, 295-6n42 Bleecker, Elizabeth (Powell), 147, 188, 198, 256. 257 Boulton, Mrs D'Arcy, 86,

324 Index see Marriage, companionate Conduct literature, 6, 26-7, 28, 34, 36-7,42, 95, 96, 110, 112, 234, 262115, 284112, 295031 Courtesy books, 5 Courtship, 163 Cramahe, Lt.-Gov., 48 Cumberland, Mr, 48 Day, Jackie, 30, 31, 32 Detroit, 51-2,58, 120, 272H77

Dickson, Mrs, 207 Dickson, William, 64 Domesticity, middle-class, 7, 10—15 passim, 26, 27, 28,30, 114, 155-6, 166, 175, 191, 239, 2951*31; and the Powell daughters, 158, 160-1, 196—7, 205—6, 233. 236 Dorchester, Lady, 133 Dorchester, Lord, 51,52, 61, 137 Duelling, 63, 71, 176 Durham Report, 254-5 Education: boys', 40-1, 45-6. 132-7, 15°. i55. 158, 159, 285ni7; girls', 24, 25, 27, 30, 32-3, 115, 155-7. 181. 193. 205, 206, 208, 210, 216, 247, 248, 2&5-6n7 Elmsley, John, 53 Elmsley, Mrs, 70, 71 English, Jane, 167, 168, 170, 214, 215 Family Compact, 12, 254; reform critique of, 150-1 Fatherhood, new middle-class ideals of, 128-31, 28402 and n3 Female Society for the Relief of Poor Women in Childbirth, 82-3

Hamilton, Mr and Mrs Firth, William, 75 Robert, 63 Fordyce, Rev. James, 26, Head, Sir Francis Bond 27.34 and Lady, 253—4 Friendship, romantic: female, 36-8, 53-6, 59, Hunter, Peter, 64, 65, 66 Hutchison, Governor, 34, 113, 268-gn54; male, 269054, 28102 46 Gallagher, Mrs, 124 Gender roles, new middle-class, 10—15 passim; women's, 9-13, 27-8, 35, 259-60 Germaine, Lord George, 48 Gisborne, Thomas, 95, 234 Golden Age, myth of, 11 Goodman, Miss, 165, 168 Gordon, Miss, 205 Gore, Lt.-Gov. Francis, 12, 14,53.69.72.73. 74.75.77.81,82,84, 161, 162, 163, 170, 258 Gore, Mrs, 65, 69, 70, 72. 73. 74,81,82, 156, 167 Grand Climacteric, 245-6 Grant, General Alexander, 66, 68, 98 Grant, Sir Alexander, 40,45,46, 129 Grant, Janet (Powell), 39,41,43,44, 129, 130 Grant, John, 44 Grant, P. (Champlin), 43-4 Grant, Robert, 48 Grant, William, 48 Griffith, Elizabeth, 95 Grogan, John, 178, 203, 255-8 Gwynne, Dr William C., 188,248-50 Hagerman, Miss, 205 Haldimand, Sir Frederick, 48, 49, 5i Hamilton, Mrs George, 194

Illegitimacy, 80-1, 37n79 Inman, Ralph, 35, 55, H7-19 Jackson, Mr and Mrs, 86 Jarvis, Anoe Ellen (Bernard), 196, 204, 205, 237, 238, 243, 247, 248 Jarvis, Charles Edward, 199 Jarvis, Charles Frederick, 200 Jarvis, Charlotte Augusta, 199, 202, 243, 247, 248 Jarvis, Elizabeth, 165, 198 Jarvis, Emily Elizabeth, 197, 198, 204, 205 Jarvis, George, 246 Jarvis, George Murray, 196 Jarvis, Hannah, 53, 63, 64, 65, 72, 79, 158, 165, 176, 206 Jarvis, Mary Caroline, 199, 205, 243, 247, 248 Jarvis, Renee, 237 Jarvis, Samuel Peters, 128, 149, 151, 176, 186, 187, 192-206, 231, 248, 249, 256, 285n27; as new middle-class husband and father, 204—6, 2g6n66 Jarvis, Samuel Peters, Jr, 195. 237. 238, 243 Jarvis, William, 63, 64, 71, 176 Jarvis, William Botsford, 182, 198, 244, 246—7 Jarvis, William Dummer Powell, 196, 243

325 Index Jarvis-Ridout duel, 194 Jenner, Dr, 139 Keith, Mr, 133-4 Law Society of Upper Canada, 135 Lefroy, Sir Henry, 222-3, 29911139 Litchfield Academy, 165, 166, 167 Lowne, Olivia (Murray), 115 Loyal and Patriotic Society of Upper Canada, 234 Loyalists, conflict with British-born in Upper Canada, 64-5 Mabane, Justice, 51 Macaulay, Dr and Mrs, 63 Macaulay, Rev. William, 176-7 McDonald, Sheriff Alexander, 63, 64 Macdonell, John, 173, !?4. »75. !76, 192-3. 208 McDonnell, Sheriff, 71 McGill, Mrs, 167 Mackenzie, William Lyon, 151 Maitland, Sir Peregrine and Lady Sarah, 82, 83, 84, 86, 202, 235 Marriage: choice in for women, 172—84 passim, 189, 193, 194, agim; companionate, 96, 201, 204, 206, 278n36, 2g6n66; difficulty in adjusting to for women, 194-6; legal liabilities of for women, 117—18, aSanzo; middle-class values about, 4—5, 26, 34,42,45,95-6, 112, 114, 269-7oni5, 278n36, 294ni2; pa-

triarchal nature of, 103-4; women's reluctance to enter, 173-5, 193- 233 Masculinity, 3—7, 12, 14, 43-4. 45. 103-4, » 14. l *5-7> 130-1. !37. 141, 143, 145, 146, 149, 150-1, 2831150, 284H54 Methodism, 146-7 Morality, middle-class, 3-7 Motherhood, new middle-class ideals of, 128, 130, 166, 284111 Miller, Mr, 173 Mistresses, at York, 65, 273ni8 Montreal, 40, 48-9, 57, 58,207, 299-30oni39 More, Hannah, 36-7 Murray, Anne (Powell): annuity from Aunt Elizabeth, 108, 118-24, 143, 144, 147, 161, 167, 169; as dutiful wife, 49, 87, 91-2, 95-6, 99, 101-2, 105, i56. »57. 158; as grandmother, 243-4; marriage, financial affairs in, 92, 93, 104, 105, 107—8, 110, 112, 114, 161, 199, and moral authority, 97-8, 102, 103, and sexual relationship, 97—8, 102, 103; as mother, bonds with daughters, 1 55-89 passim, 232-3, 236-7, 288n3, tension with daughter Anne, 209-11, 215—29 passim, and to sons, 128, 130-6, 139, 149-51, 287n75; political views, 75-7, 253-5; religious sense, 65, 94, 142—3, 259-60; widowhood, 111—12,244—52; work as milliner and

shopkeeper, 8, 11, 13, 15. 27. 30-4. 35-6. 38, 42, 45, 46, 59-60, 72, 104, 120, 167, 258-60, 267-8n44, 307^5 Murray, Charles K. (nephew), 108 Murray, Charlotte (sister), 25, 32, 36 Murray, Dorothy (Forbes) (cousin), 29, 56,57, 118, 119 Murray, Elizabeth (sister), 25. 55. 56. 117> *23 Murray, Elizabeth (Campbell Smith Inman) (aunt), 8, 11, 15, 23, 27-35. 42-3. 46-7. 5«. 55-6. 57-8, 108, 114, 117,

122, 124, 126, 183

Murray, Elizabeth "Betsey" (Robbins) (cousin), 29, 36, 37, 57, 118, 119 Murray, George (brother), 14, 36, 46, 49. 56. 59. 72, 107, 108,

1 1 2 , 1 13-17, 120,

123.127, 137,139, 159,165, 169,170, 181, 215, 226, 227, 251—2, 260 Murray, Hamilton, 124 Murray, Helen (sister), 25 Murray, James (uncle), 27, 28, 29,30,41,45, 47.59 Murray, James (brother), 117,123, 129 Murray, James (nephew), 125, 126 Murray, Dr John (father), 3-7, 8, 23, 24, 25, 27, 28, 30, 32, 33, 34.35.45-46,55. »»8. 119, 125, 126, 129—30, 26?n44 Murray, John B. (brother), 3-8 passim, 15, 27, 3°, 33, "4, 117-27, 129, 134

326 Index Murray, Mrs John B., 122,126 Murray, John (nephew), 210 Murray, Mary (Boyles) (mother): see Boyles, Mary (Murray) Murray, Mary "Polly" (Browne) (sister), 8, 27, 30-6 passim, 57, 58,59, 113, 117, 118, 119, 123, 125, 213, 227 Murray, Robert (brother), 117, 120, 123 Murray, Thomas (brother), 129 North Yarmouth, 55—7 Nursing, as woman's role, 206, 207, 213, 232, 236, 239 Patronage system in Upper Canada, 78 Peters, Eugenia (Stanhope), 6, 95 Philanthropy, 24, 77 Phillips, Dr, 198 Pierce, Sarah, 166—7 Poststructuralism, 16 Powell, Anne (first baby daughter), 49, 52, 55 Powell, Anne Murray (daughter), 15,52,58, 72, 84, 145, 155, 156, 160, 161, 162, 167, 173' l85» 1 9 1 « !92. 206—29, 230, 231, 232, 235, 238, 239, zQgnizs, 299—soon139 Powell, Anne Murray (Gwynne) (granddaughter), 101, 104, 105, 115, 135, 161, 165, 167, 168, 169, 170, 183-4, l87. 188, 196-7, 198, 201, 203, 215-21, 224, 225, 231-2, 233, 235, 236, 237,244, 248-50 Powell, Anne "Nancy" (Clarke) (sister of

William Dummer Powell), 36, 37, 38, 40, 45.52.53-5. *22, i3L 132. !33. 207, 243 Powell, Ann Jane (Seymour) (granddaughter), 165, 176-7, 178, 180, 184, 244, 249, 256, 275 Powell, Charlotte (Ridout) (granddaughter), 178-9, 256, 257 Powell, Elizabeth (daughter), 52, 79, 87, 101, 104, 105, 106, 148, 155-62 passim, 185-8 passim, 191, 192, 195, 196, 197, 199, 202, 206, 217, 222, 228, 229-39. 245. 247. 248, 250, 256, 260 Powell, Elizabeth (Grogan) (granddaughter), 177-8, 203, 255-8 Powell, Grant (son), 48, 49. 52. 55. 58. 80, 131—5 passim, 141, 143, 146, 147-50, 151, 161, 169, 176-9 passim, 180, 185, 189, 219, 224 Powell, Jane (Warren) (sister of William Dummer Powell), 45, 106, 134-5, 2»3 Powell, Jeremiah (uncle of William Dummer Powell), 50,51,58; his wife, 50, 51 Powell, Jeremiah (son), 50,69, 72,115, 131-2, i33.*34. 136-42. 151158-9 Powell, John (father of William Dummer Powell), 39, 40, 43-50 passim, 130 Powell, John (son), 47, 49. 52. 55. 58, 75. »3»5 passim, 141, 143-6, 149, 151, 162, 207

Powell, John (grandson), 244, 245, 254 Powell, Margaret (granddaughter), 256 Powell, Margaret (sister of William Dummer Powell), 45 Powell, Mary Boyles (Jarvis) (daughter), 15, 52, 72, 145, 155-62 passim, 173-6 passim, 182, 183, 185-7, 191. 192-206, 212, 216, 217, 231, 234, 237, 238, 239, 247, 248, 249, 256, 257 Powell, Mary Boyles (Jarvis) (granddaughter), 82, 101, 104, 105, 115,135, 146, 149, 156, 157, 161—70 passim, 179—83 passim, 187, 188, 189, 196-7, 198, 201, 206, 208, 210—11, 215—21, 224, 225, 228, 229, 231-2, 233, 235, 244, 246 Powell, Thomas William (son), 53, 69, 136, 142 Powell, William (uncle of William Dummer Powell), 50 Powell, William Dummer (husband), 9, 12, 14, >5. 38, 39-61 passim, 63, 65, 66, 67, 71-87 passim, 91-116 passim, 119—26 passim, 245, 251, 254-5; as father to daughters and granddaughters, 155. 156> «57. !58, 161, 164, 167, 168, 169, 172, 180, 183, 185, 199, 209-10, 213-14, 216, 217, 219, 221, 226—8, and to sons, 128-9, 130-1, !33. 134. »35- 137.139. 141, 144, 145, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151; old age, 107—11, 114, and

327 Index death, 111; personality, 96—8, 2791147 Powell, William Dummer (son), 47-8, 49, 50, 69, H5. IS1"?. »42, MS. 144, 151, 163, 164 Prendergast, Catherine, 165 Prenuptial contract: see Antenuptial contract Professions, middle-class male: divinity, 45; law, 45-6. 130, 27on27; medicine, 23-4, 45, 26sn4 Propriety, 6-7, 12-15 passim, 27,36,42,51, 57, 59-60, 65, 70-4 passim, 81,84,85—7, 91, 109—12, 114, 126, 164, 177, 181, 186, 202-6, 212, 219, 220, 222-30 passim, 234, 2 39» 256-60 passim Purcell, Miss, 165 Quebec, 48 Rebellion (1837-8), 254 Reformers, Upper Canadian, 253-5 Ridout, John, 176, l 7%-9> 194> 257 Ridout, Sally, 165 Robbins, Edward, 118, 120, 122 Robbins, James, 127 Robinson, John Beverley, 83, 128, 206, 208, 209, 211—13, 221-6, 227, 228, 229 Robinson, Peter, 222 Robinson, William, 222, 223 Russell, Elizabeth, 67, 68,79 Russell, Peter, 64, 67, 70, 71.79 St George, Quetton, 72-3. W3 Scots Society, 24, 234

Scott, Thomas, 65, 69, 77 Separate spheres, ideology of, 9-11, 13-15, 25-6,33.34.37. 108, 112, 113—14, 126, 128, 130,

151, 155-6,

l66,

171, 191, 195, 204,

Stuart, Rev. George O'Kill, 65, 165; and his wife, 68 Stuart, Rev. John, 65 Stuart, John, 178, 255—6 Sunday School teaching, 215,235, 298nii2

2O5, 2O6, 2l6, 227, 229,

235,

239

Servants, 56-7, 79-82, 197-8, 236, 2gsn3i Sewell, Jonathan, 40 Sexuality, female Victorian, 279H46 Seymour, Charles, 184 Shaw, Ellen (Powell), 143, 144, 145, 146-7, 184, 252 Simcoe, Elizabeth, 59, 62,79 Simcoe,Lt.-Gov. John Graves, 52, 53, 61, 62, 64 Single womanhood, 190i, 123-5, 231, 238-9 Sibling relationships: brother-brother, 123-4; brother-sister, 113—27, 145; sistersister, 231, 233—4, 238, 239 Small, Elizabeth, 12, 14, 63.69-74,83, 161-2, 258 Small, John, 12, 63, 68, 71-2 Smith, David, 64, 70, 71 Smith, James, 28—9 Society for the Relief of Poor Women in Childbirth, 82-3, 235 Society for the Relief of Strangers in Distress, 234 Stanhope, Philip, 3-7 passim, 12 Stevenson, Sarah (Powell), 135, 163-4, 202 Strachan, Rev. John, 145, 167, 212, 220, 222, 224; and his wife, 83, 85, 86, 234-5

Teaching, as acceptable occupation for middleclass women, 14—15, 166-7, 190, 191, 214-15, 216 Thorpe, Robert, 66; and his wife, 67, 68, 72 Ticknell, Lieutenant, 63 Tolpuddle, 106 True Womanhood, cult of, 10, 11, 14, 28, 114, 151, 166, 175, 192, 203-4, 226, 234, 239, 296059; and woman as demon, 226—7 Visiting, 66-7, 68, 69-70, 8 4~5. 159-^o, 162-3, 207, 208 Walker, Emma (Robinson), 211—13,222-6, 231 Walker, Jane, 59 War of 1812, 75-8, 234 Warren, Rev. Henry, 106, 233 Wet nursing, 188, 197 Weekes, William, 66 White, John, 64, 65, 71, 72; and his wife, 70 Widmer, Mrs, 203 Willcocks, Joseph, 66 Wills, women's, 117-20, 145, 232, 236, 238 Women's culture, 11, 13, 15, 189, 195-6, 239 Work, lower-class women's, 108, 190 Wyatt, C.B., 66, 68; and his wife Mary, 67 York (Toronto), 61-87, 252-3