Tempest-Tossed. Susan Campbell

27, 1839, Catharine wrote: “I think in one year my brother Henry will make his influence felt all over the state of Indiana. I have never seen persons improve as fast morally and intellectually as my brother since they commenced the duties of their mission.”¹⁷

      But there were other, more pressing topics to touch on in the lovers’ letters. Isabella was in Cincinnati in December 1839 and found her family of origin much reduced. She longed, she wrote John back in Hartford, for days that were probably forever gone, when the family was gathered around the table discussing the issues of the day. And then she caught herself: “See how poetical I am growing.”

      Poetry had its place, of course, but plighting one’s troth was a serious matter, and Isabella intended to be practical.

      5

      ISABELLA MARRIES, AND FACES A CONUNDRUM

      And here we pause to ponder all the women through all the years who have questioned the role of marriage in society, and wondered if the institution was quite for them.

      Can you blame Isabella, really, for hesitating to take that fine Beecher brain into a legal contract — the last one she’d ever sign — that to her was little more than a type of serfdom? The laws and her religion dictated that she demurely bow her head in front of a minister, perhaps make one last wave to her friends, and disappear into the home of her husband.

      Isabella reached womanhood at a time when the male sphere — the “impersonal, immoral and uncertain”— had been sharply separated from the female sphere — the “personal, pure, and circumscribed.”¹ As workers moved away from farms and into more industrialized pursuits, families began to mimic the Beechers in their frequent moves in search of better opportunities. This often strained or severed ties that once bound extended families, and the resulting isolation placed the responsibility for child-rearing squarely on the shoulders of families of origin — more specifically, on the mothers. More than ever, women were encouraged to forge intense relationships with their children for the betterment of the child — but not necessarily the mother, whose well-being was to take a backseat while she created good male citizens and prepared her daughters to do the same.²

      Middle-class women were encouraged to keep mother-diaries by cultural arbiters like John S. C. Abbott, who insisted such journals would help women stay focused, remain aware, and would encourage rigorous review.³ Abbott was a writer and minister, and in his seminal 1835 work, The Mother at Home, he stressed the importance of daily asking oneself questions such as “Have I this day fulfilled all my duties toward God, my Creator, and prayed to Him with fervor and affection?”⁴

      Avoiding his advice, wrote Abbott, could yield awful results. “Many an anxious mother has committed errors to the serious injury of her children, which she might have avoided had she consulted the sources of information which are within reach of all,” he wrote.⁵ In his proclivity for giving advice on how to achieve domestic bliss, Abbott rivaled Catharine Beecher, and Isabella paid close attention, lacking as she did a working example from her own mother.

      The matter of John Hooker’s livelihood remained unsettled. His decision would have a huge effect on his family’s future earnings and social standing. Could he be allowed to make his own choice, or did the awesome righteousness of the Beecher clan deserve to hold sway? In a letter to her aunt Esther Beecher dated January 1, 1840, Isabella showed early signs of standing against her family’s considerable sway. She wrote that she did not want to influence her husband in his choice of careers. Yet in two letters that same month, she wrote John congratulating him on his choice of the cloth and then, later, wrote that she was prepared to be a reverend’s wife. It was no small thing to run counter to her family’s wishes.

      And then Mary Perkins again weighed in with a January 1840 letter to John Hooker, written when she heard he’d decided to attend Yale’s divinity school:

      Your decision did not surprise me, and I was prepared for it — tho’ I regret it, I certainly shall not suffer myself to be made unhappy by it. You and Isabella had a perfect right to decide for yourselves and I had no right to do anything but state my views and feelings on the subject, this I felt I ought to do, and have done so fully, I am perfectly satisfied you should do as duty and inclination prompt…. I shall hope to see you in the spring when we can talk over these matters much more calmly and rationally.

      Mary Perkins may have felt comfortable defying the family because she hadn’t felt much a part of it. In a December 1840 letter to Isabella, she wrote: “I never felt that Aunt H. or any of the family loved me very much & never tho’t they had much reason to do so, and however much I may have regretted it I never blamed them for it — so you see there is a sort of mutual distrust….”

      As complicated as Beecher dynamics were, and as much as John Hooker appeared to want to stay in the good graces of his intended’s family, he was born to be a lawyer, and he quit divinity school after a month to return to his first love. “My whole taste,” he wrote in his autobiography, “ran toward the law.”⁶

      On her birthday in February of the next year, 1841, Isabella wrote John that her father was bringing the family together in the summer and that an August wedding would be as good as any. In July, she wrote to John and encouraged him not to be nervous, that only friends would be at the ceremony. She also wrote that her brother Henry Ward would be at the service, and she reassured John that she knew herself and knew that she loved him. But in a June 1841 letter to John, she wrote that “the fearfully foreboding thoughts come over me so often” and that she suffered from “sudden unaccountable changes of feeling, revulsion, and at times almost despair.”

      Does every bride despair before her wedding? Was it prenuptial jitters? Whatever the explanation, on August 5, 1841, Isabella married John. Standing with them were maid of honor Harriette Day and best man John Putnam, both of them friends of Isabella’s from Cincinnati.⁷ Isabella was nineteen, and immediately she would need to learn to settle into the upper middle class to which she’d become accustomed to living with the Perkins family, and whose status had so eluded her poor preacher father. The couple moved to John Hooker’s boyhood home in Farmington, where they would stay for twelve years. If she was for the first time in her life financially comfortable, Isabella was not about to settle comfortably into her new role. From her 1905 Connecticut magazine article:

      My interest in the woman question began soon after my marriage when my husband, a patient young lawyer, waiting for business, invited me to bring my knitting-work to the office every day, where he would read to me from big law books, and in the evening I might read literature to him, as his eyes were so weak as to forbid his ever using them in the evening. For four years, we kept on this even tenor of our way, and to it I owe my interest in public affairs and a certain discipline of mind, since I never attended school or college after my 16th year.

      She was stunned when she came across a passage from Sir William Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England that explained the legal disappearing act a woman made upon her marriage. In civil law, a man and woman were separate, and could be sued separately, wrote Blackstone. But though the law recognized husbands and wives as one person, Blackstone continued:

      yet there are some instances in which she is separately considered; as inferior to him, and acting by his compulsion. And therefore all deeds executed, and acts done, by her, during her coverture, are void; except it be a fine, or the link matter of record…. She cannot by will devise lands to her husband, unless under special circumstances; for at the time of making it she is supposed to be under his coercion.⁸

      The devil was in the footnotes, which the Hookers read aloud to one another. In this case, the footnotes said that a married woman’s ability to own property was severely limited and depended mostly on the graciousness of her husband. As the daughter of a poor minister, Isabella had no property, and from where she sat in her in-laws’ home in Farmington, she hadn’t the means of acquiring any. The thought that the law forbade her from ever doing so angered her a great deal.

      From