equality of the law, women goe doune still, and many graines allowance will not make the ballance hang even. A poor woman shall have but the third part of her husband's lands when he is dead, for all the service she did him when during the accouplement (perhaps a long time and a tedious), and if she be extravagant with a friend as dame Anne that is an elopement, and a forfeiture, &c. But as the saying is, men are happy by the masse, they may goe where they list I warrant ye, and because they are enforced to travel in the world they will pay dear abroad for that which they esteem of no value at home. They may lope over ditch and dale, a thousand out-ridings and out-biddings is no forfeiture, but as soon as the good wife is gone the bad man will have her land, not the third, but every foot of it."
A husband having a notable grudge against his wife had but to embark in some treasonable enterprise to cheat her of her dower. It was supposed that by attainting wife and children, men, who would not refrain from crimes for themselves, would refrain for the sake of those near and dear to them; but experience does not show that the family instinct has always been strong enough to restrain from acts of felony; and indeed, as has been just quoted, when a man hated his wife, and wished to deprive her of her dower, it was as good a way as any. And as no woman must betray her husband, she had to stand by and see the mischief go on unhindered, and her dower lost for her husband's folly.
A widow is likened to a four-legged beast which falls in halves, the one half stark dead, the other half standing still upright; "senting, seeing, feeling, gazing, and wonderfully astonished;" also to an elephant which hath lost its head. But there is comfort for the headless elephant. From having been so long in subjection, and under the rule of another, she is now free and in liberty, and with power to enjoy her own. And then come instructions how she is to proceed as administrator, taking care among other things that she take not excessive apparel, and demands nothing she may not have.
One more extract and we have done. This time it refers to a widow's marrying again, and it is such a picture that it might have been written in the Spectator in one of Addison's happiest veins.
"The widdowe married again to her owne great liking, though not with applause of most friends and acquaintances. But alas what would they have her to have done; she was faire, young, rich, gracious in her carriage, and so well became her mourning apparrel, that when she went to church on Sundayes, the casements opened of their owne accord on both sides the streets, that bachelours and widdowers might behold her. Her man at home kissed her pantables and served diligently; her late husband's physitian came and visited her often; the lawyer to whom she went to for councell took opportunity to advise for himself; if she went to any feast there was ever one guest, sometimes two or three, the more for her sake; if she were at home, suitors overtook one another, and sometimes the first commer would answer the next that she was not within. All day she was troubled with answering petitions. And at night, when she would go to rest, her maid Marion was become a mistress of requests and humble supplications. This kind of life the widdowe liked not; I aske again what she would have done; he to whom she gave a denial would not take it; if she denied him twice hee said two negatives made an affirmative, and hee challenged promise; therefore to set men's heart and her own at rest, shee chose amongst them not one of the long robe, not a man macerate and dryed up with study, but a gallant gulburd lad, that might well be worthy of her, had he beene as thrifty, as kind hearted, or half so wise, as hardy and adventurous. This youth within less than a yeare had set the nuncios his predecessor kept in prison at liberty round about the country, the bags were all empty, the plate was all at pawne, all to keep the square bones in their amble, and to relieve companions; one of which, notwithstanding, that had cost him many a pound for none other quarrell but vous mentes, challenged him one day into the field, which was appointed, and there my new married man was slaine. Now his wife will bring her appeale."
Since the year 1622, when this curious black-letter book was published, what a change! No longer content with the declaration that they have no voice in parliament, that they make no laws, consent to none, interpret none, and abrogate none, women are now buzzing about the ears of revising barristers, trying by any methods practicable to step into the crowd of voters qualified to send members to parliament. Times change, and we change with them. In olden days, a woman was nothing if not a wife. She derived all her honour from her husband, who might chastise her
