IfR.  -a, TcLE'/
MR. BUTLER'S
ST A T E M E NT,
ORIGINALLY PREPARED
IN AID OF HIS
PROFESSIONAL COUNSEL.








BUTLER vs. BUTLER.
Extract from    the Opinion of the Court of Common
Pleas, delivered by the Hon. Edward King, President Judge, January 20th, 1849.
PIERCE BUTLER, LIBELLANT,
2 vs.                       [
FRANCIS ANNE BUTLER, RESPONDENT. 
"The libellant in this libel, which is in the brief and sententious
form peculiar to our practice, sets forth that his wife, the respondent,
did, in violation of her matrimonial obligations, on the 11th of September, 1845, wilfully, maliciously, and without reasonable cause,
desert and absent herself from him and his habitation, and since that
time has continuously persisted in such desertion and absence. It
concludes with a prayer for the divorce from the bond of matrimony,
given by the Act of Assembly to the injured party under such circumstances. To this libel the respondent, Frances Anne Butler, has
answered: in which answer, she first denies that on the 11th day
of September, 1845, or at any other time before or since, she had
wilfully and maliciously deserted and absented herself from the libellant and his habitation. She then proceeds to state, that it was true,
and that she therefore admits, that she did leave and absent herself
from the habitation of the libellant on the 10th day of September,
1845, and that she has ever since remained so absent. But she
denies such leaving and absence to have been desertion. First:




4
Because for a long time previous, the libellant had separated himself
from her as a husband, and because of his wrongful and unlawful conduct towards her while in his habitation, which would have justified
her in quitting it, without incurring the legal consequences of desertion. Second: Because she had the assent and license of the libellant so to quit his habitation, and absent herself from it, and his
subsequent approval and acquiescence therein; and also, because his
conduct to her for a long space of time before she so quitted and
absented herself, was designed and calculated and such as to force
her therefrom. Third: Because she would have been justified in
so absenting herself without such license, approval, acquiescence, or
design, by the libellant's cruel treatment of her, and by such personal
indignities offered by him to her as rendered her condition intolerable
and life burdensome. She then'craves leave to submit' what she
terms a'Narrative in support of these allegations;' which iNarrative,' with its subjoined exhibits, occupies nearly sixty printed pages.
At the conclusion of this Narrative, she asks that her cause may be
tried by a jury, on an issue or issues, to be framed for that purposea right given to her by Act of Assembl'.
" Independent of this historical sketch of matrimonial discords, the
answer, like the libel, would have been in perfect concord with our
simple, facile and convenient practice in the administration of the
divorce laws. It would have been the brief, but clear and precise,
assignment of causes, why the respondent had quitted and absented
herself from the common habitation, and the negation that such quitting and absence was a wilful and malicious abandonment of her
marriage duties. The parties would thus have reached a complete
issue, and the cause, according to our practice, have been ripe for a
hearing, either before the Court, if a jury trial had not been asked,
or before a jury, if such a claim had been interposed.
"Previous, however, to proceeding to trial, the libellant would
have had the right to demand and receive of the respondent, a
written specification of the acts of cruelty, or other circumstances,




by which she proposed supporting her general allegations, with the
times, places, and circumstances of their occurrence, as far as these
could be reasonably and practicably given.  The giving of such
notice would not have made the facts contained in it, evidence of
course in the cause. On the trial, all such matters as should have
been deemed inadmissible on the ground of irrelevancy or inadequacy, could have been objected to when offered, and would have
been admitted or rejected by the judge who presided at the trial,
according as he considered the objections taken valid or otherwise.
"Why this course was not pursued-this regular, usual and orderly course-arises from the useless introduction of Mrs. Butler's'Narrative' into the answer, which the libellant seeks to treat as if
it were a responsive allegation, in an English Ecclesiastical Court.' In her denial of the wilfil and malicious desertion charged
against her in the libel; in assigning the libellant's license and cruelty as justificatory reasons for her departure from the common habitation, the respondent did all she was required to do, in order to
demand that this fact should be tried by jury. If specially called
upon before such trial, for precise statements of the facts intended to
be relied upon by her to sustain her answer, and which the libellant
may regard as too generally charged therein, she is bound to furnish
them. All the matter, however, introduced into the answer in the
shape of a'Narrative,' is pure surplusage-a statement of facts,
some of which would, and some of which would not, be received in
evidence on the trial. It is therefore not the subject of exception,
either as to its form or substance. Being extraneous to the formal
record, it must be stricken from it. The exceptions of course fall
with it. The case is thus brought back to its true and simple elements, and made to assimilate its features to the hundreds of other
analogous causes which occupy the Courts of the Commonwealth.
The libel will then charge against the respondent a wilful and malicious desertion, without reasonable cause, of her husband and his




6
habitation, persisted in for two years. The answer will deny such
wilful and malicious desertion, and assert that an admitted quitting
of and absence from the common habitation, by the respondent, was
licensed by the express assent of the libellant, or justified by law
from reasonable causes supervening, viz: unkind treatment and cruelty on the part of the husband. The issue between the parties
under our practice will be thus completely formed, and ripe for trial
by jury. On the trial, the jury must decide whether such abandonment of the common domicil was with the previous license and assent, or subsequent approbation and approval of the husband; or, if
the respondent fails in establishing this position, whether the unkind
treatment and cruelty of the husband towards her was of that character which formed a reasonable cause for her departure.
"In thus determining that the cause has been submitted to us, in
a manner which does not regularly raise the questions of fact so elaborately discussed, we are not to be understood as in the slightest
degree expressing any opinion on the merits of the controversy.
When the case has been submitted to a jury-when the facts on
both sides have been fully heard-the time will have arrived for
such an expression of opinion.  Before, such expression would
be certainly premature, and might be grossly unjust. Indeed, it
scarcely could be otherwise than unjust, because it would be formed
on a one-sided view of the subject."'
Most persons, on reading the concluding paragraph
of the   foregoing    extract from    the   opinion   of the
Court, will learn, perhaps for the first time, that but
one side of this controversy has ever publicly appeared, namely, that embodied in the "Narrative" of
the respondent.     The argument before the Court was:erely on the position taken by the libellant's counsel, that the answer of the respondent, even conceding
its denied statements, showed       no sufficient cause to




7
delay the judgment of the Court, or to warrant a trial
by jury. The Court decided that the "Narrative" of
the answer was irregularly introduced; that it should
be struck or withdrawn from the record; that the
case should, upon the short and usual pleadings, be
submitted to a jury, agreeably to the Act of Assembly; and the foregoing extract is taken from the opinion delivered on that occasion. This opinion was
pronounced January 20, 1849, and the issues were
set down for trial on April 16. The following exposition, or brief, was prepared by me for the instruction of the gentlemen who were to conduct my cause,
and was put into their hands more than a year ago.
The trial was subsequently postponed, on motion of
counsel for the respondent, from April until September, 1849. It was, however, never tried, nor further
argued, judgment having been entered by default
against the respondent, whose appearance to the suit
was retracted before the time for trial arrived.
Having succeeded in obtaining the prayer of my
petition-a decree of divorce from the bond of matrimony-I would willingly allow the matter to rest;
but the opinion of those friends on whose judgment I
most rely is so opposed to such a course, that I am
induced to print this review of facts. My friends require it of me. It is not intended as a publication:
and I have taken every possible precautionary step
against its being so perverted by others. My object
is not to assail or to depreciate; it is merely selfvindication; a right belonging to every one, and a
duty which we owe not less to ourselves, than to our
friends, our kindred, and our children.
As this Statement was originally intended for the




8
use of my counsel, and as I relied mainly upon it to
secure a successful issue of my suit, I have inserted
nothing not susceptible of legal proof. In printing it,
some portions are forborne, as they were not necessary to my own vindication.
Philadelphia, March, 1850.




MORAL TRAITS.
ONE reason, and perhaps the fundamental one, for
the ill success which attended my marriage, will readily be found in the peculiar views which were entertained by Mrs. Butler on the subject of marriage, and
her unwillingness to abide by the express and inculcated   obligations    of that   contract.     She   held   that
marriage should be companionship on equal termspartnership, in which, if both partners agree, it is
well; but if they do not, neither is bound to yieldand that at no time has one partner a right to control
the other. Some of her views on this subject will be
found in the subjoined extracts from her own letters.
"11 Park Place, St. James's,
" Tuesday, June 20th."
[London, 1837.]
" My dearest husband: You ask me if this
separations has not strengthened our affection and our value for each
* The separation alluded to was this:-In the year 1836, two years and a
half after my marriage, it became necessary that I should go to the State of
Georgia, on a visit to my property there. My absence was to continue for
several months, and Mrs. Butler expressing a desire to spend that period in
her native country, I cheerfully acceded to her wishes, and she sailed from
New York in the packet ship South America, on November 1, 1836, taking
with her our only child, then a year and a half old, and its nurse. They
B




10
other? If it has endeared me to you I ought to be grateful to it, and
I think that it has led me to reflect upon some passages of our intercourse with self-condemnation, and a desire to discharge my duty to
you more faithfully, than I may hitherto have done. Yet do not now
mistake me,: you ask me in your last, how I like my independence,
and whether I remember how vehemently and frequently I objected
to your control over my actions: I remember this well, and part of
my regret in contemplating the past arises from the manner of my
resistance, not the fact itself. Whether one person can or ought to
exercise control over another, I think is a question your own justice
and good sense would answer at once. Neither my absence from
you, nor my earnest desire to be again with you, can make me
admit that the blessed and happy relationship, in which we stand to
each other, is any thing but perfect companionship, perfect friendship, perfect love. For the existence of these, justice must also
exist; and there is no justice in the theory, that one rational creature is to be subservient to another; nor can there be any high or
holy feeling where there is not freedom and independence. Why,
the great God who made us has not trammelled our free will, and
shall we claim of each other that which the Omnipotent has refrained
from demanding? But, dear Pierce, upon what ground should you
exercise this control over me? Is it because having full power to
withhold the gift, I freely gave myself to you, to add as much by my
fellowship as I could to your happiness?  Is it because you are
better than myself? I am sure you will not say so, whatever I may
think. Is it because you are more enlightened, more intellectual?
You know that is not so, for your opportunities have not been the
same. Is it because you are stronger in body? Now, I know that
arrived in England on the 27th of the same month, and immediately went to
her father's house in London, whence the above letter was written. At its
date, we had been separated nearly eight months. I crossed the Atlantic and
joined her in August, 1837, and after a very short stay there, returned to this
country in October following, bringing Mrs. Butler and our child with me.




11
I might as well spare writing all this, for your mind is much the
same as my own upon this matter, as your whole conduct to me has
proved. If, indeed, you do not admit and respect the rights of your
wife, how comes it that she is at this moment an independent agent,
having been so for upwards of six months, with the precious charge
of your darling child, and the free and generous use of your means.
I am sure, dearest Pierce, I ought to be little anxious to argue the
point, possessed as I am of every real advantage which your admission of it could bestow on me; but for this, that I would rather hear
you acknowledge a principle of truth, than enjoy the utmost indulgence that your affection could bestow upon me."  I*          *
The next extract, and the letter which follows it,
were written in London, at the time of our second
and more prolonged visit to England.
[London, 1842.]' s   *       *-     "I will now say something upon the subject of the obedience which you claim from me. It does not enter into
the marriage contract, as performed in the Churceh to which I belong, and of which, if you belong to any, you are also a member.
It is not in the law of my conscience, to promise implicit obedience
to a human being, fallible like myself, and who can by no means
relieve me of the responsibility of my actions before God. Upon
these grounds I could not promise obedience to any one."   * 
* In this, and in all other letters adduced, asterisks (- - *  -) will be
found wherever there are omissions: where no asterisks appear, the letters
are inserted entire.
t This remark has reference to the Unitarian Church, to which Mrs. Butler
became a convert after our marriage; for she was educated in the tenets of
the Church of England, was a communicant in that church, and the ceremony
by which we were united was that of the ritual of the Episcopal Church, performed in Christ Church, Philadelphia, by the Right Reverend Bishop White.




12
[London, Dec. 1842.]
"I have already promised to endeavour to control my temperto promise more, with my nervous, excitable temperament, and the
temptations to irritation which naturally spring out of our differences
of disposition, would be unwise and unwarrantable. My temperor, as I must be allowed to call it, my temperament-will probably
furnish me with severe moral labour, and those who love me and
live with me, with exercise for their forbearance and charity until I
die. I cannot therefore promise to govern it, for that will probably
be my life's lesson, in which my friends I trust will help, not hinder
me. For your second condition, that I will submit myself to your
will, I am sorry to say that I cannot entertain this proposal for a
moment. I consider it my duty not to submit my conduct to the
government of any other human being; but could I for a moment
think of giving my conscience into other hands than my ownwhich is precisely the same thing-though I love you better than
any other living creature, my affection does not so far blind my
judgment, as to suggest you as fit for such a charge; and indeed the
few persons I know who appear to me to be so, would conscientiously shrink from such an undue responsibility. I am sorry you
wrote me what you did; though, when I had read but the first line,
I was on the point of running to your room; for your first condition
I had already promised to conform to with my most earnest endeavour, and your second I had already told you most distinctly I
never could accede to."
I think these letters sufficiently prove that Mrs.
Butler's opinions, with regard to the duties of a wife
towards her husband, were peculiar and impracticable.
Another source of our difficulties will be found in
the structure of Mrs. Butler's mind.        There are two
strongly marked features in her character-great en



13
ergy of will, and a decided preference for her own
judgment and opinions over those of every other person. Hence arose that sense of imagined oppression
of which she so constantly complained, and which led
her to offer a perverse opposition, not only on points
of importance, but on matters comparatively insignificant, and to exhibit nonconformity and an unyielding
spirit in every thing.
One painful subject of difference between us, was
that of negro slavery. Although we resided in Pennsylvania, where slavery does not exist, the greater
part of my property lies in the State of Georgia, and
consists of plantations and negroes. Mrs. Butler,
after our marriage, not before, declared herself to be
in principle an abolitionist, and her opinions were
frequently expressed in a violent and offensive manner; this was grievous enough to bear; however, I
seldom opposed or combatted them; but when it
came to the point of publishing her sentiments, I offered the most unqualified opposition to it.
An event of this nature occurred in 1840. We
were living at the time at our home, about six miles
from Philadelphia. She was solicited by letter, from
an entire stranger, to contribute a composition to a
small work to be printed, and to be sold at an antislavery fair about to be held in Philadelphia. I was
greatly provoked at the application; but my feeling
was changed to the deepest pain and mortification,
when I found that my wife intended to comply with
the request. I entreated her not to do so: I represented to her the shameless indelicacy on the part of
the abolitionists in attempting to enlist the wife of a




14
slave owner-that her aiding them by a contribution
from her pen, would be arraying herself on their side,
and against the character, position, and interests of
her husband; and that their triumph would be my
humiliation.   I told her that it would be impossible
for her ever again to accompany me when I went to
visit my estate in the south, and that it might even
be unsafe for myself to do so, unless I showed, by
some decided measure, that I did not coincide with
her in opinion, which it might embarrass me to do
satisfactorily, since very few could believe that it was
out of a husband's power to control his wife, in a
matter of such vital importance to their common interests. But all was vain; she heeded me not; neither entreaties nor arguments moved her: she sent
the contribution, and it was published with her name.
This was the deepest wound my spirit had as yet received at her hands.
Not long after this event, she referred to it in a
letter she wrote me from the city, where she was
passing two or three days.,"Mondcay, November 23." [1840.]'~'      x*'  a, "The event which occurred lately, and
led to so much bitterness between us, caused you deep pain; but oh
think how I was tried, who, to fulfil what I conceived was right,
had to disregard your dear entreaties, and to bear up, as I might,
under the utter bereavement and desolation of your alienated affection. The sacred plea I used seemed light to you, while I daily
and hourly sacrifice to your perception of right, in my mode of living and the means by which I subsist, all that I think vital in existence-justice, mercy, and self-respect."' 




13
ergy of will, and a decided preference for her own
judgment and opinions over those of every other person. Hence arose that sense of imagined oppression
of which she so constantly complained, and which led
her to offer a perverse opposition, not only on points
of importance, but on matters comparatively insignificant, and to exhibit nonconformity and an unyielding
spirit in every thing.
One painful subject of difference between us, was
that of negro slavery. Although we resided in Pennsylvania, where slavery does not exist, the greater
part of my property lies in the State of Georgia, and
consists of plantations and negroes. Mrs. Butler,
after our marriage, not before, declared herself to be
in principle an abolitionist, and her opinions were
frequently expressed in a violent and offensive manner; this was grievous enough to bear; however, I
seldom opposed or combatted them; but when it
came to the point of publishing her sentiments, I offered the most unqualified opposition to it.
An event of this nature occurred in 1840. We
were living at the time at our home, about six miles
from Philadelphia. She was solicited by letter, from
an entire stranger, to contribute a composition to a
small work to be printed, and to be sold at an antislavery fair about to be held in Philadelphia. I was
greatly provoked at the application; but my feeling
was changed to the deepest pain and mortification,
when I found that my wife intended to comply with
the request. I entreated her not to do so: I represented to her the shameless indelicacy on the part of
-the abolitionists in attempting to enlist the wife of a




14
slave owner-that her aiding them by a contribution
from her pen, would be arraying herself on their side,
and against the character, position, and interests of
her husband; and that their triumph would be my
humiliation. I told her that it would be impossible
for her ever again to accompany me when I went to
visit my estate in the south, and that it might even
be unsafe for myself to do so, unless I showed, by
some decided measure, that I did not coincide with
her in opinion, which it might embarrass me to do
satisfactorily, since very few could believe that it was
out of a husband's power to control his wife, in a
matter of such vital importance to their common interests. But all was vain; she heeded me not; neither entreaties nor arguments moved her: she sent
the contribution, and it was published with her name.
This was the deepest wound my spirit had as yet received at her hands.
Not long after this event, she referred to it in a
letter she wrote me from the city, where she was
passing two or three days.
"Monday, November 23." [1840.]
X      X            "   (- "The event which occurred lately, and
led to so much bitterness between us, caused you deep pain; but oh
think how I was tried, who, to fulfil what I conceived was right,
had to disregard your dear entreaties, and to bear up, as I might,
under the utter bereavement and desolation of your alienated affection. The sacred plea I used seemed light to you, while I daily
and hourly sacrifice to your perception of right, in my mode of living and the means by which I subsist, all that I think vital in existence-justice, mercy, and self-respect."  " 




15
"The sacred plea" she used was, that she considered it her duty to assist the anti-slavery cause
whenever she had it in her power to do so: and the
"sacrifice of all that she thought vital in existence,"
consisted in her consenting, as my wife, to be supported out of means derived from the labour of
slaves.
An occurrence of a similar nature took place during
my second visit to England, when I was residing with
my family in London. A lady, editing an anti-slavery
paper in New York, wrote to Mrs. Butler, and asked,
as a contribution, for some portions of a journal
which it was understood she had kept while in Georgia.  Again I used entreaty and remonstrance to induce her to disregard this request, or to refuse it;
but, as on the former occasion, it was to no purpose.
This lady was a stranger to her, except by name, yet
she immediately assented to her wishes, and wrote
her the following letter:-'81 Harley Street,
" Tuesday, November 2d."
[London, 1841.]
"' My dear Madarm,
" That part of my southern journal which was written on my
husband's slave estates, would be, I suppose, at once the most interesting and the most useful to the publication for which you request
me to furnish you matter; but I do not feel at liberty to give that to
the public, or I should have done so long ago. It is possible, how..
ever, that what I wrote on my way to Mr. Butler's plantation, may
be of use or interest to you, and that I should be very happy to
place at your disposal. This would consist of about four or five
longish letters, containing the account of my journey from Philadel



16
phia to Georgia; in the course of which, some observations on the
effects of slavery, as they were apparent wherever I went, necessarily occur. I am sorry that it is not in my power to do more than
this, and only hope that what I offer may prove of the least use to
you. Pray let me know, if you accept this, how I shall get it conveyed to you.
" I am, my dear Madam,
"Yours very truly,
" FANNY BUTLER."
This letter, together with several others, was given
to me by Mrs. Butler, for the purpose of being sealed
and forwarded, as was her custom.     I intentionally
omitted sending it, and threw it into a drawer of my
writing table, where it was found by her after a lapse
of some weeks.    When she understood that I had
purposely kept it back, she evinced great anger, and
immediately wrote another letter to the lady, highly
offensive and contemptuous towards myself, wherein
she entered into all the details of the occurrence, and
told her the reason of her not having received an answer to her application. I warned her, that if she
sent a letter so derogatory to me, it might lead to our
separation; that it would probably be published, and
if so, it would be impossible for us to live together
any longer.  Still that letter was sent.  I now felt
myself most painfully circumstanced; on its way to
the editress of an anti-slavery newspaper, I feared it
would soon grace the columns of that journal, and so
inevitably sunder us forever. I scarcely knew what
to do, but resolved on an effort to prevent the catastrophe. I accordingly wrote to a lady in this country, a friend of Mrs. Butler's, and an acquaintance,




17
as I believed, of the editress.   This lady also entertained decided anti-slavery sentiments. I detailed the
circumstances, and asked her to request the editress
not to publish Mrs. Butler's communication; or at
least not to do so, without an express sanction from
Mrs. Butler.    I begged her to write to Mrs. Butler
on the subject: she complied with both         requests,
wrote to Mrs. Butler, strongly urging her not to allow the letter to be printed, and advising her against
contributing to the paper.   This exhortation, coming
from  a friend, who, like herself, was an abolitionist,
produced a compliance: with what grace she complied, will be seen by the letter she wrote to the editress on the occasion.
"Harley Street,
"Friday, lpril st."
[London, 1842.]
Madam,
" I must request that you will have the kindness not to publish
the letter which I wrote you a short time ago; and at the same time
must inform you, that I intend to break my promise with regard to
the papers which I promised to furnish you for publication, upon the
subject of my southern journey. I can add nothing to this but the
assurance, that however great your contempt may be for my want
of purpose, or your indignation for this proceeding, it cannot possibly exceed my own.
"I am, Madam,
Yours truly,
"' FANNY BUTLER."
The following note to myself, was written a short
time subsequent to the date of the above.
x'' -  "You have often asserted that I never
in any single instance have conformed to your will, or complied
C




18
with your wishes: I must now bring to your recollection, that
within the last six months I have twice yielded to your will in matters of considerable importance; once, I am ashamed to say, in a
matter of conscience, and once in one which concerned my own gratification very deeply. In the first instance. I resisted your desire
very long and very earnestly, because it was a point of conscience
which I never ought to have given up: nevertheless I finally did so,
though labouring under my own condemnation, both at the time and
ever since, on that account. The other point, the publishing of my
tragedy, I gave up also, and I must beg to remind you, without a
single remonstrance or attempt at resistance, because it was a thing
that concerned my own gratification solely. Having made this protest against your statement, which, with such exceptions as these,
can hardly be considered a just one, I will say no more but this"The "point of conscience" which Mrs. Butler condemns herself for having yielded, was the sending her
southern journal to be published in an anti-slavery
paper; but she forgets that it was not yielded to my
request, but at the remonstrance of her friend in
America to whom      I had written: so that the justice
which I sought at her hands was not granted to me,
but to a third person, who had certainly far less claim
to her consideration than myself.
Mrs. Butler's opinions and views in regard to the
marriage contract and negro slavery, were either not
formed or not expressed before she became my wife;
a knowledge of them, or either of them, as they were
afterwards exhibited, must have proved an insuperable bar to our union.
Mrs. Butler also forgets that the second point she




19
cites-the publication of her tragedy-was not conceded to any solicitation of mine. The story of this
tragedy was of a nature to cause me both pain and
regret that she had selected it for an exercise of her
talents. When it was written-1838-I objected to
its publication; but she was so bent on its seeing the
light in some way, that I consented to its being sent
to London, and offered for representation there. She
accordingly addressed Mr. Macready-at that time
lessee of Covent Garden theatre-and sent him her
play, for representation on the stage. Mr. Macready
wrote her two very courteous replies on the subject,
with the second returning the manuscript. He spoke
in admiration of the production as " full of truth, of
"power and exquisite beauty;" and he added, "but
"the plot is of such a startling character that I have
"been for several days in a state of perplexity how
"to proceed. I have at last resolved upon a course,
" which I trust you will approve. I have delivered
" the manuscript to Mr. Harness, expressing to him
" my high opinion of the genius that sustains it
"throughout at such an even height; and adding, that
" its merit challenges representation;-but' that the
" danger of its plot induces me, from sentiments of
" the highest admiration and respect for the author,
" to place it in his hands, in order that he may ascertain for me the opinion of her friends, as to whe"ther the probable experiment of this play upon the
"stage would be gratifying in its result to herself and
"them.' I hope I shall have met your wishes in what
"I have done. Whatever be the opinion returned to
"me by Mr. Harness, I feel quite certain, that as the
" author of such a work, you should not quarrel with




20
"its suppression, proving, as you do, a power within
"you to establish such a reputation in dramatic lite"rature as none of your sex have ever yet approach"ed."  The letter from which I quote is dated " Co"vent Garden Theatre, London, January 5, 1839."
I have not been able to find Mr. Macready's second
letter, but he apprized her that the decision of Mr.
Harness and her other friends was against the representation of her tragedy; and, accordingly, he returned it.
I considered this decision, coming from her own
country and her special friends, as for ever precluding
the publication; for, the reason-" the startling character of the plot" —which caused its " suppression"
from the stage, was of equal weight to prevent its
being put in print.
Nor did Mrs. Butler again agitate the matter for
more than three years after this adverse judgment.
When she did so, and proposed to publish the play, I
of course discountenanced it.
Her "protest" is therefore unfortunate. As the
"twice in six months," which she adduces for evidence that she sometimes "yielded to my will," were
in fact submissions to the advice of others, after she
had repelled mine.
Another topic, which not unfrequently embittered
our fireside intercourse, was a spirit of unwise comparison, constantly indulged, between my country and
her own. She came to the United States with a prejudice amounting to hatred.*  Almost every thing
* She has herself recorded the "hatred"-her own word-she felt towards
America, before she ever saw the country or knew its people.




21
which she found different from what she was accustomed to, was pronounced to be inferior and wrong.
As I never visited England until some years after my
marriage, I was unable to controvert many of her unfavourable comparisons, which now, since I have resided in England, I know to be unjust and unfounded.
Oftentimes when she would express opinions and pronounce judgment, in her accustomed tone of infallibility, disadvantageous to America, I could only sit by
and listen in mortified silence, for then I knew only
my own country.
Having thus directed attention to some of Mrs.
Butler's mental peculiarities, I will now show the results and consequences of her acting upon them. I
begin at the date of my marriage, and proceed regularly in the order of time from that epoch.




AT HOME.
MY marriage took place on June 7th, 1834, and it
was Mrs. Butler's choice as well as my own, to reside
in the country. The place selected for our residence,
was a family country seat about six miles from Philadelphia. We did not however go to it at once; we
passed the summer in travelling, and at a watering
place, and in the autumn we stayed for three months
at my brother's house in Philadelphia. During this
period, Mrs. Butler was engaged in preparing her
"Journal" for the press. I was much averse to the
publication of that work: it was the private diary of
a young woman, and contained much that was unfit
for the public eye; but it was sold to the publishers
previous to our marriage, and they would not relinquish their contract. I found it necessary, for her own
sake, that many things should be omitted, and accordingly I read the manuscript and proof sheets. Any
curtailment greatly irritated her; she opposed the
slightest alteration after it was copied for the printer;
and as she objected so vehemently to it, I struck out
as little as possible, and indeed passed over many parts
that I would certainly otherwise have erased. Every
sentence, and even word, that I wished to omit or




23
alter, was stoutly defended, and my suggestions made
her very angry.    At length she declared she would
not submit to further curtailment in her composition,
but would leave me.     This occurred in November,
1834, less than six months after our marriage, while
we were residing temporarily with my brother. She
packed up her clothes and other things, which occupied her two days: about 6 o'clock in the evening of
the second day, after it was dark, and when I happened to be out of the way, she left the house alone. I
went into her room shortly afterward, discovered that
she was gone, and found the following note on her
table. This farewell is somewhat girlish and romantic; but she had rather passed the age of girlhood at
this time, having completed her twenty-fifth year.
"I believe I do not owe a cent in the City; if, however, there
should be any claims which I have forgotten, the enclosed twenty
dollars must answer them fully, therefore any demands that may be
made upon you in my name are unjust. If I send a porter for my
things, perhaps you will be so good as to let him have them; and if
you will be at the further trouble of sending my poor little bird
down to Rose Sully, you will much oblige,
"; FANNY.
I could do nothing, for I knew not where to go in
search of her. Between nine and ten o'clock, however, she came back, went into her room, threw herself on the bed, and lay there all night without undressing.  She did not speak to me nor I to her; I
had suffered great anxiety while she was out of the
house, and I was at once so much pained by her wilfulness and so much relieved by her return, as to be




24
well content to allow her to remain undisturbed. She
slept; the next morning she seemed to be in a better
state of feeling; I then spoke to her, and anger having subsided, I prevailed on her to be friends with
me again. At first she would not tell me where she
had gone, but after a day or two she stated, that having resolved to return to England, she left the house
to seek a public hotel: she wished to find one that
she remembered to have passed, somewhere in North
Second or Third street, which was far from our residence, and where, as she thought, it would not occur
to me to look for her: at the time she was not well
acquainted with the streets of Philadelphia, and after
walking for about three hours, without finding the
hotel, she returned for the night, intending, however,
to start off again the next morning.
On the first day of January, 1835, we went to our
country seat, where, in May of that year, our first
child was born. During the period that Mrs. Butler
was in expectation of becoming a mother, she manifested habitual discontent, frequently expressing regret at having married me, and a desire for release
from an union, which appeared already to have become distasteful and irksome to her; and she was
constantly wishing to return to her native country. I
looked upon these expressions as merely perverse fancies, to be dispelled by the birth of her child; and I
sometimes assured her that if she continued in the
same mind after that event, I would not oppose her
wishes, supposing that I should hear no more about
it. It did not, however, turn out as I had expected,
for after her child was born she was as strongly bent




upon going away as before. The following letter, in
which she evinces a desire to abandon her infant, was
written in 1835, about three months after its birth.
*      *       *      *  "I must claim the fulfilment of a promise you often reiterated to me during my pregnancy, that I should
be allowed to return to England, after the birth of my child. I am
weary of my useless existence; my superintendence in your house
is nominal; you have never allowed it to be otherwise; you will
suffer no inconvenience from its cessation.    *   *      *
Under these circumstances I must again beg that you will perform
your promise of sending me to England, when my child was born.
If you procure a healthy nurse for the baby she will not suffer; and,
provided she is fed, she will not fret after me. Had I died when
she was born you must have taken this measure, and my parting
from her now will be to her as though she had never known me,
and to me far less miserable than at any future time. I must beg
you will take measures for my going away; and have only to regret that I am not other than I am, perhaps I might have been happier myself, and possessed qualities more acceptable to you than
those with which nature and education have endowed me.
" FANNY."
It is scarcely necessary to say that I did not "take
measures for her going away," but rather sought by
kindness and by every means in my power, to promote
a feeling of greater contentment.
We remained at home for nearly two years; namely, until the end of October, 1836: at that time, as
I have explained in a note at page 9, Mrs. Butler went
to visit her family and friends in England; she was
absent nearly twelve months, and returned in OctoD




26
ber, 1837: I had gone to England and joined her a
short time before her return.       We once again-in
December, 1837-went to reside in the country.
From that period her morbid discontent became so
great, and was so continually expressed, that a mere
narration of it, and of its effects, would scarcely be
credited: indeed, but for the existence of some of her
own letters, written at the time, and constantly referring to her state of mind, I should be unable to convey any idea of it without risking my own credibility.
I will therefore insert her letters, contenting myself
with remarking, that no causes whatever existed for
the state of feeling they delineate, except such as were
self-created and imaginary.
The following letter was written in the early part
of 1838, when she was in expectation of becoming a
mother for the second time.
" You will oblige me by taking immediate means for my return to
my own family. Since my marriage with you my life has been one
of incessant privation, which was all very well while you were kind
to me; as, however, I will never be subject to rudeness and ill manners from any one, without doing that which is in my power to
avoid it, I must now beg that you will take proper means for my
leaving you, as you were the only thing that kept me in this country.
I will not return to the farm any more; but till you can make arrangements for my going to England I will either remain here, at the
corner of Chestnut and Eighth streets, or go to an inn, whichever
you like best. If you do not choose to take these steps, I have my
watch and gold chain with me, which will get me sufficient money
to go home in some manner or other, and I will make that use of
them forthwith. Be so good as to leave some answer here when
you go out of town, and I shall come for it. There is abundance of




27
time for me to reach England before my confinement; and if you
will hereafter appoint means for your child's being brought over to
you, I shall, of course, observe them. With regard to myself, I
need not trouble you further than just to ask you for as much money
as will take me to London; which, however, if you should feel disinclined to do, I will find some means of accomplishing myself."
I deny the justness of the charge of "rudeness,"
which is brought against me in the preceding letter:
it may well be believed that a man's disposition, and,
consequently, his manners, would not be entirely unruffled when his spirits were so depressed and harrassed as mine were by such conduct; and, if Mrs.
Butler's incessant fault-finding and dissatisfaction with
every thing around her, made me, at times, irritable,
I can only say, it would not have been so if she had
rendered my fireside cheerful and peaceful; but I do
not think I can justly be charged with any sort of
rudeness towards her at any time.
The following letter was written in the autumn of
the same year, 1838, after the birth of our second
child.
" You are now again relieved from my presence,* and if you will
take my advice and casting aside your regard for appearances consult
only your own comfort and happiness, you will make some arrangements by which in future to be freed from it altogether. My feelings towards you, and with regard to my own situation, are such as
to render it utterly impossible for me calmly to speak upon the subject, but I yet think it necessary that you should understand in some
measure what they are,-as perhaps your own sense of justice may
induce you then not entirely to disregard them. I believe you do
* This refers to my being temporarily in Philadelphia.




28
not yourself think the state in which we live when on good terms
with each other, one of very intimate companionship or confidence;
nature has most blessedly, for you, rendered the sympathy and communion of others totally unnecessary to you; and, were it otherwise, you are here in the midst of your own people and kindred, and
in your own country; and all the sources from whence such intercourse could flow are open around you, if you pleased to draw from
them. That the case is the very reverse with me, I need not trouble you to read, and that I am by nature as dependent upon sympathy and mental companionship, as by circumstances deprived of any
and all such, you are as well aware as I am. In part this is my own
fault; for I married you without, for a moment, using my judgment
or observation to ascertain whether or not we were likely to be companions and fellows to each other. I, above all women, was bound
not to neglect this consideration; since, in marrying in a strange
country, I at once broke the thread, and for ever, of all former intimacies, friendships and affections. Our intercourse, then, was never fellowship, most certainly: the time is now evidently come
when the sentiment which drew us together is waning and perishing
away: this is natural;-it was of an order which can never long
survive intimacy and possession; and they who have no other bond
of union must, after a very brief space, cease to have any. There
is, however, one tie by which I am bound to you,-that of utter dependence upon your means, and, therefore, of necessity, upon your
will. Such a bond as this, though borne by many women, must
needs be irksome to one who has the least feeling or pride: how
doubly irksome then to me, who have had and still have the means
of perfect independence in my own power; in the exercise of a
distasteful profession, it is true, but, at all events, unfettered by the
very odious restraint of obligation without affection. This feeling
of my present position often and most painfully draws my wishes
back to my own country and friends; and my heart, which certainly
has found no home here, for ever yearns most painfully after those




29
early ties which it renounced for a residence in a strange country,
among strangers.    *          *     *           Could food
and raiment content me, and the possession of the physical comforts
of life, doubtless I have every reason to be contented: or could the
society of two infants and my servants atone to me for that which I
habitually enjoyed in my own country, I might not complain of the
mental solitude in which I live. If hitherto, however, my want of
cheerfiulness has dissatisfied you, I fear it may do so yet more henceforth; for, since my last confinement, I have been suffering incessantly from painful and exhausting indisposition, and I fear that the
loss of my health will not tend much to improve my spirits: upon
this ground, therefore, I think your comfort will probably be increased
by your absence from me.     *      *      *      *      *
"These considerations, and the conviction that though my companionslip is no source of pleasure to you, my conduct is frequently
one of annoyance, induce me to propose that we may henceforward
live apart; my discontents will then no longer vex you, nor the restraints to which I am now subject, gall and irritate me."  *
In the same year, 1838, I went, for the second
time, to visit my property, and to attend to my affairs, in Georgia, and I was accompanied by Mrs.
Butler and my two children; it was her first and only
visit to the south.  We passed the winter on my plantations, and for a time the entire change of scene and
manner of life had the effect of dispelling some of her
discontent; but it was only for a time, for the winter
did not pass without much trouble between us, and a
full share of the domestic unhappiness which her conduct brought upon me.      More than once she renewed
her desire to leave her family and to return to England; and on one occasion she was apparently so
fixed in this resolve, that for a time I gave up all hope




30
of being able to dissuade her from it.     On this occasion she actually left her children for three days, and
probably would have done so entirely, had there been
any means of her getting away; but, fortunately, no
steamboat left Darien-the nearest town-during this
time; and before there was an opportunity to get
away I succeeded in inducing her to return to her
children.   As this circumstance is referred to in another place,* I need not say more about it here.
We returned to the north in April, 1839, and again
went to our home in the vicinity of Philadelphia.
The state of her mind and feelings at that period
will be exhibited by letters she then wrote, which
render unnecessary any comment or explanation on
my part.
The following was addressed to me not long after
our return from Georgia.
*          *       *  "It might seem indelicate to urge upon
you the sacrifices I have made, and the trials I have embraced, in
marrying you; yet, as disappointment in the looked-for compensation, which would have made the sacrifice easy and the trials light,
now often turns my thoughts upon this subject, I must speak of the
change in my situation, as I feel it. I have left my country: with
many women this would mean little or nothing; but I have national
attachments so strong as to amount to prejudices; and the customs,
habits, and even the lovely outward face of my country haunt me
with frequent and melancholy regret: this you may term fantastical,
but untrue or true to you, I tell you it is real with me. But, oh!
you will but class it with the phantoms of a diseased mind; however,
* Page 34.




31
this is my protestation, believe or disbelieve it, regard it with thoughtful compassion, or with uncomprehending contempt, this is what I
feel, and all that I feel, even as I feel it.  *    *     *
I have renounced all the pleasures of society: this may be condemned by you as frivolous, but bear in mind that our tastes are as
different as our complexions, and that while you care not in how
profound a seclusion you live, I have qualities that adapt me peculiarly for society, and the desires that naturally prompt me to seek it;
indeed, the two go together.   *      *      *       *  We
are not all made up of affections-we have intellects-and we have
passions-and each and all should have their objects and their
spheres of action, or the creature is maimed: as for retorting to this,' What need of intellectual converse, have you not an affectionate
husband and two sweet babies' You might as well say to a man
who told you he had no arms-Oh! no, but you have legs."  *  *
At that period, May, 1839, her determination to
abandon her home seemed so firmly fixed, that I was
reluctantly compelled to appeal to others, which I had
never yet done; my domestic troubles, great as they
were, had happily never been mentioned to any one;
but now there seemed no way to prevent so painful
and scandalous a catastrophe, but by invoking the intercession of friends.    Hitherto, whenever she talked
of leaving me, I had diverted her purpose by soothing
kindness, forbearance, gentleness, and by offering no
apparent opposition to her wishes, but begging her
to defer her intention until she could reflect on it
more calmly, or to leave it for some other occasion.
In this way I succeeded in changing her intention;
but now I tried every thing in vain; and, as a last resort, I was forced to make known to others the nature
and extent of my domestic unhappiness. I did not




32
unburden myself to my own family, because I knew
their sympathies would naturally be awakened for
me, and their feelings might as naturally be enlisted
against her.
I will here remark, that I have never, not even up
to the time I am    now writing, detailed to my own
family the history of my domestic misery; they first
became aware that difficulties existed, when these were
made known to the society in which we lived, and not
till then; it was Mrs. Butler herself who first openly
spoke of them, not only to her fiiends, but to my
kindred, whose impressions have all been received
from her.
As I had failed in all my efforts to change her purpose, and as she was resolved upon an immediate departure, there was no time to write to England, to
seek from her family and friends there the assistance
I needed; and I applied to those in this country in
whom she most confided. The letters which passed
between myself and these persons on that occasion
are here inserted.
6 "Near Philadelphia, May 31, 1839.
6 My dear Mrs. Sedgwick,
" Yourself and your husband are the only persons to whom I dare
speak of my misery, and open my domestic sorrows and trials. I
know that your regard for me and mine is sincere, and I know that
my affection for you is true. To you then alone can I turn, and
from you alone can I hope for comfort.  I            X 
Think what I have suffered; for five years have I pent up in my
breast and concealed from all a sorrow that destroyed almost all




33
happiness. My own family are as little aware of it as persons who
never heard our name. They think, as all who know me, that my
life is passing quietly and smoothly, and that no cares but ill health
have troubled me; even my servants do not know that from the day
I entered the church to swear love, faith, and constancy to one alone,
that my life has been a tumult; I have concealed it from all, and
now for the first time do I make known to any one that unhappiness
which it has been the object-almost the sole object,-of my life for
five years to avert. I have done all that deep love for a wife, the
strongest affection for my children, and an earnest desire to secure
peace and happiness for myself and them have dictated, but all has
failed; and now I am forced to seek the aid of you, my distant
friends, to avert domestic misery and calamity, which would wreck
the happiness of four persons for life. You know our history as
well almost as ourselves; that it was deep, true, free, and well tried
love which caused us to marry; no selfish feeling, no thought of interest, indeed, no thought or feeling but that our mutual happiness
and our fates were linked together, ever lodged in our breasts. And
so it is still. At least it is so with me, and I think also with her. I
have never doubted the continuance and strength of her love for me,
and she should never have doubted mine. I know that our feelings
are as strong as when first we loved, but cemented and made holy
by the birth of our two children. And yet her life is passed in bitter
misery, in constant tears, and heart breaking sobs. For nearly three
years after our marriage we were never apart; no separation, not
even of a day, occurred between us, until she went with Sarah to
England; during that time various causes were assigned for her unhappiness, but chiefly being separated from her family and friends.
Lately, and only lately, has she taken up the idea that she has become indifferent to me; this arose I think in Georgia, and now has
full possession of her mind. With all but me she is rational at all
times; her care and management of our children are admirable; we
have never once disagreed about them. But she will not live in
E




34
peace or quiet with me. It seems as if her spirit became troubled
by my presence and would never settle down, but like a boiling
spring which rises out of the earth it is always troubled and agitated;
and most uneasy is it when we are most together and alone. Oh 
how anxiously I have tried to soothe and calm this perturbed spirit,
and to make her happy; but the spirit would never rest. Sometimes argument would lead to disagreement and throw her into that
state when reason leaves her; this I have avoided as much as possible  again my opinions if at variance with hers would lead to the
same painful result, so that at one time I restrained myself from ever
expressing an opinion before her; she then complained that I never
told her my thoughts or feelings, and even silence worked upon her
to madness.       -       -                      I' This state of
mind sometimes last three or four days, during which she evinces
the strongest feeling against me, sometimes of anger, sometimes
aversion. Five or six times she has packed up all her clothes to
leave me. Twice she has taken her jewels to Philadelphia and sold
them in order to obtain money to travel; and I have had the mortification of going to buy them back, once being obliged to pay a considerable sum to enable me to get them again. When in Georgia
she resolved to leave me; packed up her trunks, left the children on
St. Simon'1s Island, without saying a word to them or the nurse, and
came to the plantation near Darien to go away in the steamboat; as
it happened, no boat was to start for three or four days; for two
days she shut herself up in a room, lay on a bed, and refused to eat
or drink, because it was my food she would have to eat, and she
would touch nothing or receive nothing that belonged to me. *  *
h *     After our conversation the morning you left us, I determined to return home as frequently as my business would allow me,
though I well knew that not my absence, but my presence, caused
the trouble. I have been home often since you went away, but my
coming has created no apparent gratification or pleasure; I went into
town on Saturday morning and returned again in the evening; until




35
Monday I was not away from home, and she seemed in better
spirits than usual; but what was my surprise when at breakfast on
Monday morning she asked me when the next steam packet would
sail for England; I said the Great Western was advertised for June
13th; she then told me that she had fully made up her mind to return to England, and go on the stage to support herself; and if I
would not take means to send her back, she would write to engage
her own passage: as I refused to take any steps about it, I presume
she has done it herself, for she sent a letter to the post office, which
she did not show me, and which I am inclined to think was to make
inquiries about a passage. The day after this was Tuesday, 28th,
the birthday of both our children; their two cousins came to pass
the day with them, and Fanny seemed happy all day: I hoped she
had given up her strange purpose, but I was mistaken; at night I
was left to sleep alone, and a note, which I here copy, was left on a
table in the bed room.
"'I have at various times made ineffectual struggles to get released from the intolerable life I am leading: you have always prevented my doing so, by urging upon me considerations of your happiness: as I can no longer be deceived by assurances which your
actions most plainly contradict, I now request once for all to be allowed to return to my own country, and such friends as remain to
me there.  God knows how bitter a life mine has been for sometime past. I cannot endure it any longer and will not. You can
never repair the injury which you have done me in marrying me,
although you seem to think that your having done so is a sufficient
compensation for all the privations which I feel, though they are imperceptible to you. I will not remain here to be your housekeeper,
your child's nurse, or what you make me, that is still more degrading
and revolting. I beg you will take immediate means for my return
to England, and have the kindness to let me know whether you
mean to do so or not.'




36
"Alas! poor Fanny, the bitterness and misery are of her own
creating, and mar my happiness as effectually as her own. God
knows how earnestly I have striven to make her happy, and how
readily I would now do any thing in the world to secure it; for I
should also be sure of happiness myself. But the difficulty is with
herself, it is inherent; and unless she can be made sensible of this,
and summon resolution to overcome this morbid state of feeling, she
will be miserable for life. She is undermining her health by this
constant gloom and weeping; her nerves are very materially affected
already, and the tone of her mind, as regards herself, is sickly and
unnatural. I have copied the note, because her own words will
convey to you a more correct knowledge of the unhappy state of her
mind than all I can write. When I instance the condition of other
women, as compared with hers, women who have much to depress
them, hut yet bear tip against all their troubles and show a cheerful
spirit, she can always find circumstances in their lot which serve to
lighten their condition, and alleviate their sufferings, so as to enable
them better to overcome their troubles; and generally concludes by
making out her situation the hardest and most unsupportable and
unmitigated of all her sex. This constant dejection and gloom, if
not broken down and dispelled, will become after a time a mere
habit; and imagined misery will be ever present; indeed it seems
to me that most of it is habit even now.     *      *       *
-^  *  *   And this I know will be the case
with Fanny, if there be not some cure made now of this disease of
the mind, the disease will master her, and when at last she does
perceive the true nature of it, it will be too late, for it will then be
incurable.  That she must feel very much the seclusion in which
we live, and constantly regret the separation from her family and
early friends no one can doubt; but it is no remedy to be eternally
weeping and bemoaning this as the greatest and only calamity. She
says that as she is not happy, and as I evidently am not, a separation had better take place: now it is not an easy matter to talk with




37
persons who are irrational and take wrong views of a case, and she
talks of a separation as if we were two persons who had entered
into partnership to carry on some small retail business, and not the
great business of life-the lives not only of ourselves but of our
children. If two marry, and have no children; if love dies, and dislike grows up; if respect changes into disgust; if tempers are unsuited; if life is wasting away useless and unprofitable, and if the
happiness of both can be secured by dissolving that tie which has
been formed by such holy vows, and which should be so sacredwhy let them part. But such are not we. If we are not happy together, more unhappy should we be apart. And do we not surely
owe more, or rather are we not more bound to consider our children
than ourselves? And what would our children not lose by being
bereft of their mother's guardian care? What could I do with two
little motherless children? And would Fanny be happy parted forever from those darling children, earning her support by public
show, even though she should be among her family and early friends?
But to one who has her reason the mere suggestion of a separation,
situated as we are, must appear like madness. With every means
of happiness given to us, it is worse than foolish, it is sinful, wantonly to cast it aside. I think that I have done every thing in my
power to render Fanny's situation comfortable, happy, and contented; I cannot, it is true, live in England, to enable her to be
always with her family and friends there, but I have once afforded
her an opportunity of visiting them, and passing nine months with
them; and I look forward to going there again. If, however, she
cannot be happy away from them, if a home, a husband and children,
are less to her than former friends, and do not compensate for what
she has given up, why there is nothing to be done; if unceasing
tears are to be shed for those in England,-if they are dearer than
all that belongs to her in this country, I fear there is no remedy.
But if it remains for me to do yet more, if any thing is wanting on
my part, if I can by any thing within my power secure a cheerful




38
and contented home, which, alas, I have never known, only let me
know it, that at once it may be done. There is no one whose words
would have any weight with her but yours and Mr. Sedgwick's;
her affection for you is very great, and she has so great an admiration of your character and understanding, that she would feel there
must be truth in what you would tell her respecting herself and her
situation. Besides she sees in you, and it is what we often speak
of, the attainment of perfect and rational happiness in married life.
What I say to her has no effect whatever: she always replies that I
cannot realize her situation, and consequently do not make sufficient
allowances for her. I tell her that human happiness depends not so
much on outward circumstances as on ourselves; if we have but
moderate means allowed us, we can attain the rest ourselves; this
truth she will not allow.
"s You must not for a moment suppose that I complain. If I had
no other object in writing to you, I should be silent altogether. It is
because Fanny is wasting her health, her strength, and her life in
miserable dejection and morbid despondency that I seek relief; and
I know not where to turn but to you our friends. How this present
trouble will end I cannot see: heretofore there has been more passion and violence, at times, when she talked of leaving her home;
and I have had to bring her back to reason and to her natural feelings by gentle kindness and soothing affection, begging her not to
desert me and her children. On those painful occasions, too, she
was determined to go out of the house at once, refusing either to
sleep or eat under my roof again. But now it is different, as you
will perceive by the tone of her note. She seems resolved to part,
and asked me if I would allow her either of the children. I know
not what to do. There is no one in this country to whom I would
mention a word of this but yourselves. I have thought it right,
therefore, indeed I felt bound to lay open every thing to you; for if
she does leave me, her nearest friends ought to know under what circumstances she does so. If she persist in going, and I am unable to




39
restore reason by my own endeavours, I will try to induce her to
take the children and go to see you before leaving the country. If
she will agree to do this, I shall feel quite safe; and know that she
will come back to me better and happier after having been with you.
*      *       *      *  I feel the necessity of making a strong
effort at this time, to prevent the recurrence of this state of mind,
and to create a healthy and vigorous action of both mind and body;
for if it be neglected the period will come when it cannot be done.
I am sure I need not say anything about writing my domestic troubles to you, my dear friends. I know you will be pained by this
letter; but if you can afford any aid-and it is because I believe you
can that I write-I also know that you will rejoice, and not mind
sharing with me my griefs. If any change should take place, I will
write to you.
"Your sincere friend,
"PIERCE BUTLER."
[Lenox,] " Thursday evening, June 6, 1839.
"My dear Mr. Butler,
", I have received, this evening, your most touching and painfully
interesting letter, but am prevented by a room full of company from
answering it as I wish I could do, without delay. To-morrow I will
write, if possible, to both of you-certainly to Fanny-and to you,
immediately after. I have considerable faith that I may induce her
to forego this dreadful purpose. Meanwhile, pray do not refrain
from going home, under the idea that she is worse with you than
without you.     *       *      *      *   On the contrary, I
think you should be at home as much as you can, certainly every
night. Try to recollect that she is diseased, and treat her soothingly
and compassionately, as you would do if she were sick with an ordinary malady. She is morbidly susceptible to reproof, or disapprobation, and for the present, at least, you must bear and forbear. I
have not yet had an opportunity to show my husband your letter, but




40
you need not doubt that you will have his entire sympathy. I write
in great haste and in a din of voices.
"God guide and comfort you.
" Most sincerely, your friend,
"E. B. SEDGWICK.'"
" Lenox, June 7, 1839.
" My dearest Fanny,
"I have been exceedingly distressed by a letter which I received
last evening from your husband, informing me of your dreadful purpose of leaving him, and begging that I will use my influence to dissuade you from it. In doing so, I shall feel that I am pleading for
yourself as well as for him and the children. I have been thinking
a great deal about you, dear Fanny, ever since I left you; and the
more I have thought, the more I have turned over in my mind the
subject of your troubles, the more I have viewed it in all its aspects,
the stronger has my conviction become, that your mind is positively
and greatly diseased; and that you have yourself been the cause of
all that appearance of indifference in your husband which you now
believe to be the original source of your unhappiness. I recollect
saying to you a year ago, when I was in Philadelphia, at the time he
came home after staying in Philadelphia, when he was ill:' Fanny,
my husband would die, if I should give him such a reception, after
his being away-particularly under such circumstances;' and you
replied:' Oh! he knows me perfectly well; he knows that when I
feel most, I express least.' Still, I was not at all satisfied, because
there is no strength of conviction that can counteract the effect of
manners, as you have abundantly experienced in your own case.
And when I came to speak upon the subject, with your husband,
which I did when we drove into town the day I left Philadelphia, I
found that it was exactly as I had supposed-that he staid away a
* Mrs. Charles Sedgwick.




41
great deal-exiled himself, in a measure, from his home, his wife and
his children, because his coming always made you unhappy; and
your greeting consisted in tears and sobs and sleepless misery. And,
do you think, my dear Fanny, that with all that calmness of exterior, he has not suffered deeply, intensely? You know the power he
has of concealing his feelings, and his inclination to do so; but the
sorrow has been secretly working, till it has affected, as I believe,
the fountain of life itself; and I should not be surprised if the catastrophe which now threatens him, in this desperate determination of
yours were to prove, ultimately, a death blow. I was speaking to
my husband, since I came home this spring, upon the effect your
husband's visits produced upon you; to which he replied, that' if it
were his case, he never should go home again in the world-he could
not.' I wish I could show you your husband's letter; or rather, I
wish he would write just such a one to you, and lay open his whole
heart upon this subject. Think, dtear Fanny, of the extremity of
misery which must have induced him to lay open the secrets of his
heart, and let one, who is comparatively a stranger, meddle therewith; and, if he is indifferent to you, whence comes this racking
misery? My dearest Fanny, believe me, you are altogether morbid
on this subject. You have the best means of happiness that this
world ever firnishes in your power, and still you are wretched.
You have affluence, a husband whose love you do not question, as
fine children as mortal was ever blessed with, and rare gifts of mind
and heart; but you inherit, undoubtedly, from your mother, those
morbid tendencies which poison and spoil all; and if, instead of manfully resisting them, of calling in the aid of religion, and of that
moral and intellectual strength for which you are remarkable, you
yield to them, let them obtain this complete triumph over you, I
very much fear they will forever have the mastery. And what
think you, my dear friend, you will gain? Because your husband is
the dearest object of your affections, to whom you look as the chief
source of your earthly happiness, you very naturally impute to him
F




42
all your want of happiness. But did not you tell me once, that you
admired Kate's discernment in telling you that she did not believe
you could be very happy in any situation? And, surely, surely you
will find it so. Do you think, my dear Fanny, that England, or
English friends, or English society could make you happy for a single moment? 0 no, no, believe me. I assure you there are those
things in every married woman's life which, if she were constituted
as you are, would make her as wretched as you.     * 
But, my dearest Fanny, even if you still persist in your belief, that
you are a wronged and injured woman, although your convictions
may remain just the same, in spite of all I can say, still I do not
think that they afford the slightest justification for your leaving your
husband. You have undertaken to be his wife, and to fulfil towards
him the duties of that relation; and, whatever you may think of
your marriage contract, as a legal form, you must regard yourself as
pledged in the sight of heaven to fulfil what you have undertaken.
You voluntarily put yourself in the way of becoming a mother, and
I cannot think of a more heinous offence against God and right, than
to cast off this duty. You have no right, my dear Fanny, to deprive your husband of his children, even with his consent, extorted
by this strange necessity. You have no right to deprive them of
either of their parents; you have no right to separate yourself from
them, and place it out of your power to train them up in the way in
which they should go. Your husband speaks with admiration of
your management and care of your children; you have an immense
trust reposed in ycu; think what it is to have such a soul as Sarah's
put into your keeping; and will you consign it to any chance care?
Will you throw it away from you, as a vexed child tosses away her
plaything? And suppose that your husband permits you to take her,
can you enjoy her when she reminds you constantly of what he has
given up?  You could not possibly see his life blood taken from
him, drop by drop, because it would be all a perceptible, visible process; but can you do that which the other, that is so palpable, only




43
faintly shadows forth?  Might not the child, by and by, reproach
you for taking advantage of her early years, and separating her,
without her permission, from her natural home, and her best friend,
except yourself?  And could you guard her against the effect upon
her character which such a precedent in you might have?  Could
you hope that any relation, any duty in life could be associated in
her mind with the idea of that permanency and stability, without
which all good, all virtue, is liable to be as transitory as the passing
shadow? My poor, dear Fanny, my precious, almost idolized friend,
do let me persuade you that your mind is diseased. How can you
do this great iniquity, and sin against God?  If, indeed, a mind in
such a state as yours is morally responsible. You have, dear, great
confidence in me, in my sense of right, so much, that I have sometimes wondered how I came to inspire it; but, since it is so, do put
yourself under my guidance for a little time: do not act rashly, hastily: give yourself time to consider of all that I have said to you:
come and pass some time in Lenox; come directly. Attend to
your health; let nature's sweet influences minister to you; and
enjoy the love of those who, because they do not excite so intense a
feeling in you as your husband, are best fitted to comfort and soothe
you. I have written in greatest haste. Let me hear from you very
soon, I pray; and, once more, I pray you, do not take this desperate
measure, now, at any rate. You would be ready to cast yourself
into the sea, the moment that you saw the shore receding. God
guide and bless and comfort you.
"Your most true and loving,
"E. B. S."+*
" Lenox, June 7, 1839.
"My dear Mrs. Butler,
" Do not leave your husband, I pray you, for God's sake. It cannot be right-at any rate, it cannot now. If you had less mind, less
* Mrs. Charles Sedgwick.




44
heart, less feeling, so that you could view this matter as affecting
yourself alone, it would be different. Believe me, you will feel remorse, and that, that is the only thing you cannot bear. You will
have strength for every thing else, but not for this. Think, think of
your own experience; of the bitter sufferings you have felt, and perhaps inflicted, by a thought, a word, an action, the result of accident,
caprice, bodily infirmity, perhaps, or sudden passion. Think how
your life has been poisoned, and that of those you love, by a look of
coldness or a word in anger, so that the whole past and future has
been swallowed up in one bitter feeling of the intolerable present.
Have you made no mistake as to the cause of your sufferings? Have
not some of the most intense been the most transient? Is it possible
that the remedy you propose will avail you? It is impossible.
~*  *      +*      " But suppose you could have an abiding
conviction that both you and Pierce could be as happy when separated as you are capable of being, would that justify you in taking
a step against his most earnest wish and prayer, the consequences of
which you cannot foresee, and which is irretrievable.
"' For his sake, for yours, and your children's, for the sake of my
sister and daughter and wife; for the sake of all who love you and
trust in you, do not yield to your present feelings, they will not
last. Wait, and know that your extraordinary powers are given to
you for an infinitely higher purpose than self-tormenting-not to
shut yourself up in a cave of despair, but to pour the light of love
and knowledge into the dark places of sin and ignorance.
"God bless you.
" Yours, most affectionately,
C CHAS. SEDGWICK."
Immediately after reading these excellent letters
from Mr. and Mrs. Sedgwick, I addressed the following to Mrs. Butler, which, at a subsequent period, returned into my possession.




45," My own dear Wife,
" Will you consider well every word that our good friends have
written you; it is most wise counsel, and for your own sake, every
word ought to be impressed on your memory and heart; you should
not say that you will endeavour to overcome the morbid state of your
mind, but you should say I will do it, and like a drunkard who
dashes forever from his lips the bitter cup that has brought wretchedness on himself and his family, you should summon strong resolution, and never again allow yourself to fall into that state in which
reason leaves her seat. I was forced to seek aid from others, because you never heeded what I told you, and always became irritated
when I suggested that your unhappiness was not caused by real, but
by sickly and imaginary griefs. I therefore begged those friends, in
whom you have both confidence and affection, to use their influence
to restore your mind to a healthy tone. It is by no means pleasant
to have to tell persons of their faults or defects, because few can feel
that the censure is just: and if I attempt to point out some of those
which I think cause you much unhappiness, it is neither in the
spirit of complaint nor of censure, but that you may, if possible,
avoid them; and if I did not know that you have it in your power
to drive them from you entirely, I would say nothing. about them.
Think of what our life has been, when we have been at home quietly
and peacefully, with nothing real to disturb us, and when we ought
and might have been happy and contented. Has our home ever
been a cheerful one?  Think of the tears that have been shed for
self-created griefs, and the gloom that has reigned over our house,
until it was almost a house of mourning, with nothing to cheer or
brighten the domestic scene but the blessed spirits of our darling
child; and if you can realize the gloomy period as it has been,
think if it is not imperious to break down these self-conjured barriers
to our happiness. It is singular that the fate of your unfortunate
mother does not act as a warning, and that the sad example she gave
has not been shunned; one who, as your friend Mr. Harness de



46
scribes her,' possessed such high gifts of nature, and such abundant
means of conferring happiness on others and receiving it herself, yet
who marred the blessing to those she loved the most, and emptied
her own breast of it.' And Mrs. Sedgwick tells you,'that you
have the best means of happiness in your power that this world ever
furnishes, and still you are wretched. And with rare gifts of mind
and heart, you inherit from your mother those morbid tendencies
which poison and spoil all; and if instead of manfully resisting
them, of calling in the aid of religion and of that moral and intellectual strength for which you are remarkable, you yield to them, and
let them obtain this complete triumph over you, I very much fear
they will forever have the mastery.' And Mr. Sedgwick says to
you,' know that your extraordinary powers are given to you for an
infinitely higher purpose than self-tormenting.' And I beseech you,
oh, my beloved wife, to turn over a new page and commence a clear
and bright era in our mutual existence, one in which no clouds, no
gloom, no unhappiness, shall ever come. Never doubt the strength
and continuance of my affection for you-that can never cease. It
is true you have it in your power to make me unhappy, to cause my
home to be distasteful to me, and to force me away from you and
my children-but you cannot make me cease to love you. You
cannot drive me to seek pleasure or enjoyment away from you; if I
cannot have happiness in my own home, it is no where for me. I
may not be happy with you; but oh, most true it is, that I cannot
be happy without you. If sobs and tears are my welcome when I
return to my home, and if I am left to lie alone in my bed, while you
pass the night on the floor absorbed in grief, it can hardly be expected that I shall find my home a cheerful one, nor can it be wondered at if I should sometimes absent myself from a home where
gloom so often prevails, which heretofore my coming has never dispelled; but it is not true to say that indifference either to you or my
children has ever kept me away from you. Fanny, my own Fanny,
I feel in my heart that but one calamity can ever happen to me in




47
this life, which would make me hopelessly wretched, and from
which I could never recover; if you or my children were to be
taken from me by death, I could never be happy again. But if you
are spared to me, and only seem happy, I may defy all else; for indeed I have always felt that I had fortitude to bear up against all the
worst ills of life, but your loss. Then, dear wife, drive from your
mind the false and base idea that you have become indifferent to meit is not so. There is no joy for me in this life, no happiness, no
comfort not derived from you and my children, or which springs
from any other source whatever. Then resolve, with that powerful
resolution which you possess, that henceforth you will make the
best use of all those means of happiness which surround us, and not
wantonly squander those riches which you have, merely because
you cannot attain yet greater riches. Oh think what a priceless
jewel pure affection is, and how it should be treasured in our hearts,
how carefully we should guard it, and' suffer not a breath to dim the
bright gem's purity.' Oh! my wife be wise!"
It was my intention again to visit Georgia, and to
take my family there with me, to pass the winter of
1839-40. Having this in view, we left home about
the beginning of December, and came into Philadelphia, preparatory to our southern journey. While in
the city, we at all times stayed with my brother,
whose house was to me and mine the same as my
own.    Mrs. Butler was invariably treated with consideration and kindness by my brother and his wife,
and my children received from them the same affection
as their own daughter.     While there I was taken ill,
and remained so for nearly two months, nor was it
until the end of January, 1840, that I found myself
able to leave Philadelphia. Thus, instead of the few
days originally expected and planned, we were detain



48
ed in town much longer.    During this time, the greater part of which I was ill and suffering, Mrs. Butler
exhibited the same irregularities of temper, and unreasonableness of conduct, that marked her life at all
other times.   One day she was going out to ride on
horseback, which she generally did unattended: just
before starting she said to me, that she would ride
down Walnut street to the river Delaware, and go
along the wharves, as she wished to become more acquainted with the city; I begged her not to ride in
that direction, as ladies never went along the wharves
at any time, and that a lady going there on horseback
and alone, would attract great, if not rude attention,
and cause unpleasant remarks to be made; she replied
by a few disdainful words, about my regard for what
people said, dashed off, and took her ride along the
wharves. This is only one of the many instances of
perverse self-will, in which she delighted.
Other similar proceedings of hers at this time, are
recorded in her own letters; and I insert them as
characteristic specimens of complaints, utterly groundless and fanciful.   The following is from herself to
her father.
Philadelphia, Tuesday, Jainuary 7th, 1840.
My dearest Father,
"I little thought at the time of my marriage, that the proceeds of
my professional exertions would ever be necessary to my comfort,
and yielded them to you for my mother's and your use, with no
thought or desire but that they had been more. You will, I dare
say, be both surprised and grieved when I tell you, that the small
income which I could derive from that sum of money, would greatly
contribute to my positive comfort and that of my children. From




49
circumstances which I do not by any means understand myself, but
of which the results are sufficiently intelligible, I find myself and my
children living upon Mr. John Butler; I have neither home nor servants of my own; and as far as I can ascertain from my husband,
whose sole reply to my inquiries is, that this matter is his business,
he cannot afford to place me or his children in any other situation.
I have determined, under these circumstances, to resume my profession, for to be dependent for the means of living upon comparative
strangers is contrary alike to my feelings and principles; and my
reason for addressing this letter to you, is to beseech you, if you
have not borne in mind your promise to me, that the money I gave
up to you at my marriage should revert to me hereafter, to do so henceforth; for indeed I know not what my need of it may be. I write
hurriedly and in great distress of mind, many most painful reflections
crowding upon me at once. God bless you, my dearest Father, I
hope to see you soon, and am ever, ever,
"Your affectionate child,
"FANNY BUTLER.'
This letter was sent to me by Mrs. Butler, for my
perusal, accompanied by the following to myself:
"January 7th, 1840.
" You have often evaded questions, which as they concerned myself, I had a right to make; you now tell me that the situation in
which I am placed is your business and not mine. I have determined, and nothing shall alter my determination, that since you refuse to discharge your duty to me, I will no longer be dependent
upon you; the implicit confidence and trust I had in you has been
shaken; you have broken the contract which should have existed between us, for you have concealments from me, and I can no longer
rely upon you. My comfort and happiness are as you say your
business, but, as like most other of your business, you neglect them
G




50
utterly, I will so far see to them myself, that I will no longer submit
to live upon your relations. I have asked you for what I have a
right to, for I can obtain it for myself, a home, no matter how poor,
how humble, where I might live with my children in decent privacy
and by myself; a home, where if I have neither kindred nor friends
of my own, at least I shall not be dependent upon strangers, upon
whom you have thrust me without regard for either my feelings or
theirs. I do not wonder that you care little for these, however, for
you are regardless of the dearest interest of your children; you have
subjected them to inconvenience of every description, and what is
far, far worse, to pernicious moral influences,* without thought, care,
or consideration. I give you my solemn word of honour that I will
live thus no longer; and if you do not choose to give me the justice
which I have a right to claim, I will resort to the means which, I
thank God, I possess of maintaining myself, without depending either
upon your careless discharge of your duties, or upon the sufferance
of your relations."
Having retained a copy of Mrs. Butler's letter to
her father, I returned it to her with the following remonstrance:"January 10th, 1840.
"I return your letter to your father, but I earnestly warn you
against sending it to him. It is untrue; it is most unjust; it belies
me to your family, who are at a distance, which makes it impossible
for them to know the truth; it was written in temper; it will be
treating your family most unkindly to send such an account to them,' At the time that Mrs. Butler made this wanton and shameless imputation
"of subjecting my children to pernicious moral influences," they were little
more than infants, their ages being four and a half and one and a half years
respectively; and we were living as transient travellers in my brother's
house, where they had a nursery to themselves, their own nurse to attend
upon them, and every possible kindness and attention.




51
for it will grossly deceive them as to your real situation. If you
send it, you will regret it before it has probably left the country; for
your better feelings will prevail over those which now possess you,
and you will feel the injustice of what you have done. If you write
any thing else, I entreat to be allowed to see it; I have a right to
make this request; whatever you write concerns me more nearly
than yourself, for it goes to those who know you, but who know me
only through you."
Those who know nothing of the way in which my
brother and myself lived, will find it difficult to believe that the state of things portrayed in her two
preceding letters existed only in Mrs. Butler's own
discontented and distorting mind: but all our acquaintances-I make not a solitary exception-and
indeed most persons in Philadelphia well know how
strikingly untrue, how utterly void of the semblance
of truth, are her representations.
In consequence of being kept at the north so far
into the winter, I gave up the intention of taking my
family with me to the south; and at the beginning of
February, 1840, I went to Georgia without them.
At the same time Mrs. Butler and the children returned to our own home.
The following letters were written from home by
her to me, shortly after my departure.      It must be
admitted that they contain quite sufficient disproof
and recantation of the extraordinary assertions contained in the letter to her father, namely, that she had
"neither home nor servants of her own," and that
she was "dependent for the means of living upon
comparative strangers."




52
"Philadelphia, Thursday, Feb. 13, 1840.
" My dear Pierce,
"You probably imagined, after your last Saturday's plunge into
the positive fact of departing, that you had at all events gained something by the effort; some relief from thought, consideration, and responsibility; some respite from'domestic duties' and household annoyances. Your slavery, doubtless, you thought to leave on this
side of Mason and Dixon's line, and looked not to be pestered with'arrangements,' even to the very brink of the Altamaha. I am
heartily sorry that it cannot be so, and still more sorry to be the
person perpetually doomed to the hateful office of'sweet remembrancer!'      >* 
"   e all came home to day, and even after a few hours the house
begins to wear its accustomed aspect; the children are snug in bed,
and I, as usual, in lonely grandeur in the drawing room. I came
out on horseback, the roads were very muddy, and Forrester was
one mass of mire almost to his girths. When I got here, Francis,
who had gone to town with the wagon for the trunks, had not returned; Thomas was in town also, and there was nobody but little
Johnny Little to stable my steed, or to throw a blanket over him.
+*     ^.   X      Sarah is well, but little Fanny is
by no means so; she has a bad cough and cold, and looks pale; I
am thankful to have her once more at home. Pray answer me immediately about this, and believe me,
"Ever your affectionate wife,
"6 FANNY."
"Philadelphia, Tuesday, fMarch 3, 1840.
6 My dearest Pierce,
-       ~A *                   "Your children are very well;
Fanny has had not the slightest symptom of croup, since our return
to the country, though she has been out every day, and almost all
day long; her appearance is much more healthy lately, and she




53
seems altogether happy and well. 
Last week I had Mackintosh, Mary, Fanny Appleton, their maid,
Kate Bowie, her maid, and her little boy, all in the house at once.
Kate and her child had been staying with me a few days, when the
Highlander and his clan appeared; they arrived last Sunday week,
and staid until the Thursday following; don't you wonder how I
packed them? Kate Bowie and her baby had the nursery; her
maid the next room; and Fanny Appleton the little third room, on
that side: I gave up my room to Mackintosh and Mary; and slept
with Sarah on the blue sofa-bed in my dressing-room, with baby's
crib beside it; and our children were washed and dressed in your
dressing-room; and the gentle Marianne, Mary's maid, was exalted
to an attic. They all went, as I told you, last Thursday; but Kate
and her child are still with me.         *        *       *
Ella and Lizzy, and Mary and Alfred (the boy) come out and spend
every Saturday with me.  *                     *      *
" I grieve to hear of your low spirits, though'tis some relief to me
to think that I am not now near you to wear and harass you, and
produce the depression you complain of.  * 
God bless you.' Ever your own
" WIFE."
6Philadelph1ia, Thursday, March 19, 1840.
"My dearest Pierce,
*            *            " *"C We are all here most anxious and
unhappy about you; for me I am almost in despair; I thought that
once freed from the gloom and disquietude which my thrice unhappy
temperament seems to throw over you, and alone with John* in that
favourable climate, you would have at least a temporary relief from
pain and depression. Oh! my dearest, what can be done for you!
* My brother.




Will you not do something for yourself; why do you not go to
Europe, to Germany, and try the efficacy of those waters; but
above all, the efficacy of change of scene, of pleasurable excitement, and of absence from all depressing influences. John would
go with you too gladly, and as for me, I should too gladly see
you go in the pursuit of health, and that once cheerful and blessed
equanimity of temper and spirits which was your most peculiar and
fortunate possession.                  *      *     God bless
you, my darling dearest Pierce; when you think of me-if you
think of me-think of me as one whose love for you has been a
source, not of joy or delight, but of pain and agony, and now of bitter
reproach; for oh! Pierce, Elizabeth* has written me some of the
contents of that letter of yours to her, and I felt while reading it as
if the iron was indeed entering my soul; forgive me, my dearest,
dearest Pierce, if I have so bitterly cursed your existence. I cannot
write any more; I am blinded with crying.
6" Ever, ever your own wife,
L FANNY."
At that time, and while I was still in Georgia, I received the following letter from Mrs. Charles Sedgwick:" Lenox, March 31, 1840.
ci My dear Friend,
" Do I incur the risk of being stigmatized as a meddler by writing
to you again upon matters with which a stranger may not intermeddle? I will not think so, because I know you are fully aware how
much I have at heart yours and Fanny's mutual happiness; and will
therefore believe that I act from the deepest and most sincere interest
in you both. I have, besides, your own sanction; for, in that long
letter which you wrote me last spring, you said,' But if it remains
-" Mrs. Charles Sedgwick.




for me to do yet more; if any thing is wanting on my part; if I can
by any thing within my power, secure a cheerful and contented
home, only let me know it, that at once it may be done.' Fanny
says she has written to tell you, how far I had lately betrayed your
confidence, and therefore it is better that I should mention why I had
been induced to betray it at all, if, indeed, that is the proper term to
use. She was very eager that I should show her the letter last summer, and wished me to obtain your permission to that effect. I
thought it would have been much better that she should see it, and
the only reason I did not comply with her request was, that by introducing the subject I might seem to take advantage of the confidence which you had voluntarily reposed in me in a moment of extremity. You know that she is in the habit of opening her whole
heart to me; and, of course, she wrote to me, how wretched she
was all the time she was in Philadelphia.
It was about the same time, and before I answered this letter, that
she wrote me how much you were suffering since your arrival in
Georgia, with low spirits, and how much she lamented your being
made to endure an evil from which, hitherto, you had been so completely, though so strangely exempt. I replied, that I was astonished at her imagining that you had never been unhappy. I alluded to
what you must necessarily have suffered from all her discontent and
wretchedness, and quoted, in proof of it, a little sentence from your
letter. I took occasion, at the same time, to say how inconsiderate
and how wrong I thought she had been in indulging so much, and
manifesting, so openly, those feelings which had caused you both so
much sorrow. Now, as I presume you have found out from her
letters, she is overwhelmed with remorse, and all her tenderness for
you is again at full tide. It is strange that the idea of her ever having made you unhappy seems to be an entirely new revelation to
her. I have besought her, as now permit me to beseech you, my
dear friend, that, henceforth, you may know each others hearts completely. If she had known that she was making you so unhappy,




the circumstance would have been of the greatest possible assistance
to her, I-am sure, in checking and controlling the feelings that have
had the mastery of her, to her own hurt, and your great sorrow.
And now I have it deeply at heart, that the present moment should
be improved for setting all matters right between you; that each of
you should henceforth see and perform his duty to the other. Even
without any personal interest in the matter, I should most deeply lament the waste of such rich, such abundant, such precious materials
for happiness as are in your hands.                * -S
" God bless you, my dear friend, and may you both hereafter be
as happy, as, with love such as you have for each other, you surely
mnay be.
Yours, truly and affectionately,
" E. B. SEDGWICK.
"PIERCE BUTLER, Esq., Darien, Georg'ia"
After passing    three  months in    the south, I returned to the north, in May, 1840, and joined Mrs.
Butler and my children at home.       We resided there,
with occasional absences, until November, in the same
year.   At that time Mrs. Butler received letters from
her friends in England, representing her father's health
to be very precarious, and advising her, if she expected ever to see him again, to lose no time in reaching England.     Our decision was quickly made: in
exactly one week from      the receipt of those letters,
namely, on the first of December, 1840, we sailed
from   New   York, in the steamship       British  Queen.
We landed at Southampton on the twenty-first of December, and the next day went to London.




ABROAD.
MR. KEMBLE'S disease had attained a crisis: he was
scarcely alive, and was expected to sink at every hour.
For some days there was no apparent change: he only
breathed: the hopes of his most sanguine friends did
not look to his restoration. But he revived: life
seemed to come back to him by slow degrees; and,
contrary to the fears of all, he recovered.
He was relieved of active disease at the time of our
coming; but his illness had lasted so long, and had
been so severe, that the worst was hourly apprehended. The arrival and presence of his daughter, no
doubt, contributed to, if it did not actually cause, his
resuscitation.
At that time Mr. Kemble did not keep house in
London: we found him at lodgings. As soon as he
was able to leave his bed we took a furnished house
and resided together.
When I left home I had no intention of staying
away longer than a few months; my absence was protracted, however, to two and a half years. We did
not return to the United States until May, 1843.
The whole of this time, with the exception of occasional visits to other places, was passed in London.
H




Our social position there was a most agreeable and
fortunate one. Mr. Kemble had passed a long, distinguished and respected life: he had hosts of friends:
friends of the best sort, of the highest classes in life,
and of long tried constancy. They were rejoiced at
his recovery: they appreciated the filial affection
which brought his daughter across the Atlantic to see
him in his illness; and they showed to him, to her,
and to myself, all the kindness and attention in their
power.
If any condition of life, or concurrence of circumstances, could have rendered Mrs. Butler contented
and satisfied, she ought to have been wholly so during
our visit together to her native country. The many
excellent friends I had there, and nearly all my acquaintances, were made through her and her family;
and, consequently, they were her friends even more
than mine; and, from the day of our arrival to that of
our departure, their kindness never remitted.
Those of my countrymen who travel rapidly through
England, or do not reside in it as I did, can know little of the real nature of its people. The inhabitants
of every country have some peculiarity of character:
one belonging to the English is coldness of exterior;
reserve towards those whom they casually meet, and
do not know. From this, it is often thought by strangers among them, that they lack warmth and depth of
feeling; but you must not judge an Englishman out
of his house; you must see him in it. Let him once
invite you to his fireside, and it will be your own, not
his insensibility, if you do not find yourself there
again and again. London is a vast place: a stranger




59
might live in it for a life-time without making a single
acquaintance; but let one go there with a proper introduction, and he will see the icy surface at once dissolved, and hearts and houses open to him. Such
was, undoubtedly, my happy experience. I was led
also to observe, that an American carries into English
society a surer passport than any other foreigner; it
is much easier for him, if made known to them reliably, to win a welcome, even to their most exclusive
circles, than it is for a stranger from another land:
they are cordial in their reception of him, and sincere
in their desire to show him all hospitable attention.
It may be, I shall never again be among them; but
the recollection of their unvarying kindness is ever
present to me, and the warmth of my feelings to them
can never be chilled.
In April, 1841, Mrs. Butler's sister and aunt returned from Italy, and they also resided with us. Her
two brothers, not resident in London, came frequently
to make short stays with us. Thus, at length, she
was in the position she had so often sighed for when
in America: she was in her own country: she had
husband, children, father, sister, brothers, relations,
friends, all around. Was she satisfied?  Yes, for a
time; while the excitement and novelty of her situation lasted, but no longer, as the sequel unfortunately
made too manifest.
We passed the summer of that year, 1841, in travelling in Germany, and returned to London in October. Some time after our return, the occurrence
happened which has been spoken of at page 15,
namely, the application from America to contribute




60
an article for an anti-slavery newspaper. This seemed suddenly to set the old leaven of discontent to
work afresh. She now practically maintained the
principle, always contended for, of doing exactly as
she chose. Having yielded one point, she seemed to
think herself specially justified in persisting on all
others, and she assumed the attitude of opposition
and resistance to my wishes, never afterwards abandoned.
The first time that she actually deserted me in
England was in April, 1842. No particular circumstance could be assigned as the cause of her abandonment, other than a recurrence of her moral disease.
She apprized me, by note, that her design was to return to America, and added: " I have full confidence,
"that rather than see me return to the stage to earn
"my subsistence, you will allow me sufficient for my
"maintenance (I care not how little), till my father
"dies, when I hope you will be freed from the charge
of me." She packed up all her clothing and left London by the railway for Liverpool, on the morning of
April 4th. I followed in hasty pursuit, by the next
train of cars, and overtook the one in which she had
started, at Birmingham; here both trains united, and
we went on together to Liverpool, arriving at 7 o'clock
the same evening.
She proceeded immediately to the Adelphi Hotel,
sent for Mr. Radley, the proprietor, and directed him
to engage a passage for her in the steamer, to sail the
next day for Boston. I went into her room to dissuade
her from her purpose; for several hours I pleaded in
vain; I represented to her the unaccountable appearance her sudden departure would have, leaving chil



61
dren, family, and friends, without warning or farewell;
I spoke of her father's grief, and of the mortification,
as well as distress, her sister and friends must undergo: but for a long time her resolution was unshaken. At length, and after it was far into the night,
I promised her that if she deferred her voyage until
the next steamer only, and then was of the same mind,
I would attend her to America, and thus save the exposure and pain to her family and myself: for sometime she refused even this proposal, but finally acceded to it, and the next day she returned with me to
London.
Mrs. Butler's next desertion was on the 4th of
July, in the same year-1842. I was not warned of
her intention, but suspected it: she sent for a hack
cab off a stand near the house, and went away. I
noticed the driver, and when he returned to the stand,
questioned him as to whither he had gone: he told
me to the Southampton Railway, where his fare had
taken a train of cars which was about starting on her
arrival. I felt assured she had gone to her brother's,
who lived about twenty miles from London, near
Weybridge, and whom we occasionally visited. That,
however, was not her destination; she stopped at
Kingston, twelve miles from London, and staid at a
public hotel. She wrote four or five lines to me from
that place the next day, requiring money, which would
support her until the theatre opened in September
following, when she intended going upon the stage
and supporting herself. I sent her money, and after
an absence of three or four days she came back. She
did not return, however, with the purpose of remain



62
ing, but merely to get her wardrobe and take a fresh
departure. Finding her resolved, I proposed to her
that she should take one of the children and go to
Scotland, on a visit to some relatives and friends
there. She agreed, and after a few days she went to
Edinburgh, accompanied by our elder daughter.          She
wrote to me from that place:" Mackay's Hotel, Princes Street,
" Edinburgh, July 29, 1842.
*      *       *      *    " I am now in Edinburgh with eight
pounds sterling only in my purse; my sister is extremely urgent
with me to go on with her to Carlisle and Liverpool, and Mrs. Henry
Siddons equally pressing for me to go with her to North Berwick
(three hours from Edinburgh), where she is staying with Colonel
and Mrs. Muir, and their children, for the sake of sea bathing. I
should like to do either very much, but am withheld by your having
yourself fixed upon Edinburgh as the place where you thought I had
better remain.  *      *       *           I shall keep Sarah
with me as long as you think proper that her lessons shall be
interrupted, and shall remain here according to your desire until I
hear that you no longer choose me to do so. I suppose you will
take some measures to supply me with money, without which, indeed, I can neither very well stay here, or go elsewhere. I have
not the least objection to returning to America with my children, and
endeavouring to discharge my duty to them, but wish in the meantime not to return to the house where you are, and when we return
to take passage in some other vessel."  *  *     *    *
As she said it was her intention to remain in Edinburgh, I did not reply to her letter immediately; and
before answering it, I went to Liverpool to see a mercantile house there with whom I had some business




63
to transact. There I found her sister, with her husband, Mr. Sartoris, to whom she had been recently
married, and I stayed with them. As Mrs. Butler
was not to leave Edinburgh, until she heard from me,
I was surprised by her arrival at the hotel in Liverpool. She coolly informed me, that not choosing to
remain any longer in Edinburgh, she had borrowed
fifty pounds sterling from a friend there, and had come
to Liverpool to join her sister.
After being here a few days, she seemed to be
brought under the influence of better feelings towards
myself, and, through her sister, expressed a desire for
another reconciliation. I readily yielded to her proposal, hoping as usual for a favourable change in her
conduct, and catching at every possibility to secure
domestic harmony and quiet. We accordingly returned together to London on August 17, and continued to live together for some time on better terms
than had existed for many months.
I designed returning to the United States late in
the autumn of that year-1842. In view of this, about
the middle of November, I gave up the house, which,
to that time, I had occupied in common with Mrs.
Butler's father and sister. Mr. Kemble took lodgings
for himself; Mrs. Butler's sister, Mrs. Sartoris, went
to a house of her own; and I fixed my family at the
Clarendon Hotel.  We lived at this hotel for five
weeks; during which I changed my intention of immediately returning to America, and determined to
continue in London until the following spring. I engaged another house for the time I was to remain,
and we were about removing to it, when Mrs. Butler




64
once more took to flight. Her better feelings, which
had ruled for a time after our reconciliation at Liverpool, had all again deserted her, and my life was distracted and embittered by the violence of her causeless and ceaseless excitements. In consequence of
some disagreement between us, which took place late
one night, while we were still at the Clarendon, the
immediate origin of which I cannot now recal, she
became very extravagant in language and manner, and
said she would instantly go away. It was near two
o'clock at night; she rang the bell, which was answered
by the night porter: she ordered him to fetch her a
cab, and he went to do so. While he was gone, I
spoke to her in a tone equally distinct and decided; I
told her we had but one more day to stay where we
were, before leaving it for our own house, and that if she
was bent on departure she must at least postpone it
until we had left the hotel. She persisted, however,
and I then said to her, if she did quit the hotel in
that disgraceful manner, at that hour of the night, I
would, on the morrow, take the children to Liverpool, sail for the United States in the first steamer,
and she should never see either of us again. At that
moment the porter announced the cab to be at the
door; I told him to send it away, as it would not be
wanted: he did so, and she said nothing. The next
morning, however, she left the hotel, and went to her
sister's. The day after that I removed with my children to the house I had engaged.
Some of her letters to me, written at that period in
London, have been published by Mrs. Butler in her




65
"Narrative."  These letters have been widely read
and universally admired, and they are certainly remarkable compositions. Though addressed to me,
they were not written, as it would appear, exclusively
for my eye; for copies of them were carefully taken
at the time, shown to her friends, preserved, and after
a lapse of nearly six years displayed as evidence
against me in a court of justice. I do not object, however, to this having been done; but I will show that
they have been made to play a part altogether disingenuous, and neither honest nor truthful.  She says,
in her " Narrative"-" I long continued, however, de"votedly attached to him, and earnestly desired, and
"repeatedly manifested the desire, to recover his affec"tions and win back his regard. In order more fully,
"and by means of original memorials, to expose the
" nature of my exertions and the habitual sufferings of
"my life, I annex hereto, and desire leave to prove,
"true and perfect copies marked'Exhibits A. B. C.
"and D.' of certain letters addressed by me to him
" during the period referred to."*- And she continues,
"These appeals on my part failed to produce any ef" feet; and his indifference and unkindness continuing
"to be habitual, my happiness as a wife was wholly
"destroyed." That these appeals failed to produce any
effect on me, is not true. The effect they produced
was such, that a reconciliation was the consequence.
In her "Narrative," Mrs. Butler has placed these
four eloquently finished compositions together, as if
- The publication of these letters in her "Ntarrative" has necessarily compelled me to insert in this Statement some private correspondence, which,
under other circumstances, my feelings naturally would have deterred me
from exposing.
I




66
none others had intervened, and as if they had failed
to elicit answers from me: while other letters of hers
written at the same time, and all my replies, are entirely omitted.   Of my replies I have unfortunately
retained no copies; it was not my habit to copy what
I addressed to her, but on examining her letters to
me, I have accidentally found among them the original
drafts of two of my answers, which I insert in their
proper order.    If I possessed all my replies, so that
they might be read in the connexion in which they
were written, these selected letters of hers would appear very differently, as may be judged from the tenor
of the two, which, by a fortunate chance, I am       able
to present.
The following letters passed between us while we
were residing at the Clarendon Hotel: the first, from
Mrs. Butler to me, is one that she has herself published, marked "'Exhibit A." in her " Narrative."
"' My dear Pierce,
"The other day when I asked you what it was that you required
from me when you rejected the attempt at a reconciliation, that my
affection and conscience both prompted me to make, you replied,
that until I obeyed your will, you would not be reconciled to me.
In reflecting most solemnly upon our sad condition, and the means
by which I may have been instrumental in causing it, and the means
(if any) by which I might, perhaps, ameliorate it, I have been at a
loss to imagine in what I have disobeyed your will, or opposed any
wish of yours, but with regard to the question which you asked me
about the money I had borrowed: this, I believe,-I mean refusing
to answer that question, —is the only act of opposition to your will
with which I can tax myself. At the time when I refused to satisfy you
upon that point, your mode of interrogating me was such as to rouse
all the worse feelings of my natnre,-pride, resentment, and a resist



67
ance which I conceived justified-to a demand, which I thought you
had no right to make. But I perceive that our position is so perilous
now, our future happiness, more, much more, our future conduct,
seems threatened at this moment by such fatal influences, that there
is no possible concession of pride or resentment, or any other feeling
that I am not prepared to make for the sake of retrieving the past
and averting the future. That future, do you see what it is!-do
you contemplate as I do in it the utter destruction of all our hopes,
the deterioration, it may be, the complete degradation, of our characters? Look through the remainder of our youth, more than one half
of which is now already past-at what lies before us-a home without love, without peace, without virtue, whence we shall each of us
make haste to depart as froim a place accursed, to seek forgetfulness
of all its disappointments, at bitter sources which will return nothing
but poison into our hearts. Look further yet, to age, and think of
the lonely present, the dark and accusing retrospect, the cheerless
and fearful prospect which must close the existence of two human
beings who have thus wickedly wasted every blessing that ever was
bestowed upcn creatures most favoured by Providence. For what
a lot might ours be! Have we not youth-health-wealth-a most
fortunate social position-many friends who love us and rejoice in
our welfare-children-oh! Pierce!-Pierce! I look at our children and tremble, lest God should strike them for our sins, lest we
should be punished in some awful way through them for our abuse
of all the benefits which are daily showered upon us, and which we
are turning into judgments against ourselves. For God's sake, and
for your children's sake, and for your own soul's sake, Pierce my
husband, oh, still my most tenderly beloved, let us be wise before it
is too late! Show me wherein I have sinned in this our terrible
condition, and mercifully help me to amend it.
" Save yourself, Pierce, and me, and our darling children, fiom a
ruin worse than any worldly beggary, from self-condemnation and
condemnation of each other, from a daily and hourly departure further




68
and further from all noble and holy influences. Let us be friends,
let us be Christians, let us return to our duties, and to the paths
where peace and happiness are found. I implore you by that love
which you once had for me, by that unalterable love which I still
bear you, and which makes me dread being the cause of wrong in
you, more than any conceivable thing, put away from your heart all
evil thoughts and feelings towards me; forgive me, forgive me, and
deal with me with righteous and merciful dealing, and spare yourself
the reproaches of your conscience, and the upbraidings of your better
nature. Do not, for God's sake, give yourself up to unworthy pursuits and pleasures; remember your children, Pierce, and as you
hope to influence them towards what is noble, virtuous, and excellent, do not forsake them and me, and destroy our common life,
which, if not one of sacred mutual duties, of mutual help, compassion
and affection, must be a thing accursed, and evil to us all, which we
shall have to answer for having made so. Before writing this to
you I prayed to God to grant that I might speak to your heart as I
have spoken from my own. May He bless you and guide you and
enlighten you, my husband."
This letter, which contains apparently as much real
feeling as it does beautiful writing, is one of those
which Mrs. Butler asserts failed to produce any effect
on me.    That this assertion is untrue, will be proved
by the following reply given to it, but which she
has entirely suppressed.       This reply is taken     from
my original corrected draft, which was accidentally
preserved, as before stated.
" It is my most earnest desire to be reconciled to you; nothing can
be so miserable as the life we are now leading, unless, indeed, it was
the life we did lead previous to our separation; if we are not more
happy now than then, at least in our present condition we are not in
that constant state of irritability towards each other, and so far we




69
are better off. Much as I wish to be reconciled to you, and much
as I am impelled to give way to the impulse of love and affection
which attracts us mutually towards each other, we had better not do
so, unless our union is to be permanent, and unless our future mode
of life is to be different from the past. This can only be the result
of a clear understanding of the terms upon which we are to live together in future. We have frequently had differences and quarrels
during the time that we have lived together: we have several times
parted from each other, and as often been brought together again by
the strong bond of love which first attracted us to each other, and
which I firmly believe is as strong now as ever it was; but our reunions heretofore have resulted in a temporary happiness only; after
a short lull the same old grievances have given rise to the same unhappy and miserable differences between us; so that indeed with
few intervals our whole married life has been a troubled existence,
disturbed by contentions and disputes. This must not be so for the
future: either we must live apart, wretched as such a life is for ourselves, and unfortunate and injurious as it will be for our children, or
we must live on better terms. On my soul and conscience I have
done every thing in my power to make you happy and contented as
my wife. I have not succeeded, God knows: but if I have not, at
least I can console myself with the knowledge of having done all that
I could, and the firm conviction that the fault is not with me. The
fault has been entirely your own. I do not say this to reprove or to
reproach you: perhaps it is your misfortune more than your fault,
but with you only rests the power to make amends for the past by a
change of conduct for the future. If you will govern your irritable
temper, and if you can consent to submit your will to mine, we may
be reconciled and may be happy. I firmly believe that husband and
wife cannot live happily together upon any other terms; and it would
be vain for us to be reunited unless upon a clear understanding of the
conditions I propose, and a full determination to abide by them. I
have put this in plain language, and in a way perhaps calculated to




70
wound your pride; but as I wish you to be under no delusion as to
what I expect from you, it is better to do so. I have made many
concessions to you, you have followed your own will in almost every
thing, and neither your happiness nor mine has been secured. It is
for you well to consider the alternative, and so decide. I do not ask
you to make any concessions to my pride: I have no such feeling
to consult in matters connected with you; nor any will to gratify
further than our mutual happiness is concerned. I make these conditions solely because I know that we cannot be happy upon ally
other. I desire nothing' so much as a reconciliation with you provided it can be permanent."
The following is Mrs. Butler's rejoinder: she has
likewise omitted this from      her "Nacrrative."     I may
say, with truth, that my letter failed to produce any
effect on her, or at least any good effect, for she rejected my proposal with anger and disdain, because
obedience was a part of it.
"I have already promised to endeavour to control my temper; to
promise more with my nervous, excitable temperament, and the
temptations to irritation which naturally spring out of our differences
of disposition, would be unwise and unwarrantable. My temper, or,
as I must be allowed to call it, my temperament, will probably furnish me with severe moral labour, and those who love me and live
with me, with exercise for their forbearance and charity, until I die.
I cannot, therefore, promise to govern it, for that will probably be
my life's lesson, in which my friends, I trust, will help, not hinder
me. For your second condition, that I will submit myself to your
will, I am sorry to say that I cannot entertain this proposal for a
moment. I consider it my duty not to submit my conduct to the government of any other human being; but, could I for a moment think
of giving my conscience into other hands than my own, which is
precisely the same thing, though I love you better than any other




71
living creature, my affection does not so far blind my judgment as to
suggest you as fit for such a charge; and, indeed, the few persons I
know, who appear to me to be so, would conscientiously shrink from
such an undue responsibility. I am sorry you wrote me what you
did, though when I had read but the first line, I was on the point of
running to your room, for your first condition I had already promised to conform to with my most earnest endeavour; and your second I had already told you, most distinctly, I never could accede
to."
This letter, of course, put an end to further attempts at reconciliation. There seemed to be no remedy for such a case as hers. The decided and unconquerable preference exhibited for the freedom of
her own will and action, over her duty to husband
and children, left me no alternative: I could do
nothing but leave her to the enjoyment of that uncompromising liberty, the surrender of which, in her
opinion, had no equivalent.
As I have said, Mrs. Butler left me at the Clarendon Hotel, and went to reside with her sister; and I
went with my children to occupy the house I had
taken for the residue of my stay in London.    While
she was at her sister's, Mrs. Sartoris came to see me,
and urged a reconciliation.  I told her, as I had told
Mrs. Butler, that she could not be more anxious than
I was to effect it; but that her sister would live with
me only upon her own terms and conditions, which
were peculiar to herself; and which, after a long trial,
I had found impracticable.  I assured her that I exacted no more in the way of acquiescence and obedience than other and the best wives acknowledged and




72
yielded to their husbands; no more, in fact, than she
herself, Mrs. Sartoris, yielded to her own husband.
She said that her sister appeared to be reasonable and
willing to do all I required, and that when she talked
to us separately, there really seemed to be no essential difference in our views. After this visit I received
the following letter from  Mrs. Butler: it is the second
of the four she has published, and is marked " Exhibit B." in her "Narrative."
"In consequence of your refusing to be reconciled to me, or live
with me, upon any but impossible terms, I came to my sister's house,
in order to recover a little from the dreadful state of nervous excitement into which I had been thrown by your treatment of me, and
your rejection of all my attempts to restore, if not the happiness, at
least the peace and tranquillity of our lives. I have now recovered
my composure; and having been here for several days without receiving any communication whatever from you, presume that it is
your determined resolution that we should separate, and, accordingly,
must now consider what my situation is likely to be, and how best
to make arrangements for the future. Before doing so, however, let
me remind you that, within the last ten days, I have made repeated
and ineffectual appeals to your affection, your compassion, your justice and your humanity. I have entreated your pardon for any and
all my past offences, as humbly as it becomes one who has undoubtedly often been in fault to do. I now do so again. I have offered
you every assurance which a fallible human being may dare to offer
of my desire and purpose of fulfilling my duty better. I now do so
again, in the hope that, tendering you all of repentance for the past
and resolution for the future, that one rational creature should to another, you may be induced to reflect upon your own share in the
wreck of our peace, and perhaps perceive that the further claim you
have made upon me is such as your conscience should no more al



73
low you to offer than mine will permit me to accept. In the event,
however, of your still adhering to this proposition, which I still unequivocally refuse, it remains to make some arrangement for my future existence. My sister leaves town on Monday. I shall not
remain in her house after her departure. Perhaps, as you have undertaken the management of your own household, you might choose
to make such arrangements as, by enabling us to live entirely separate, would also restore me to my children, from whom I have in
nowise deserved to be parted, whose loss is unutterably grievous to
me, and who must suffer in many ways from my absence. In proposing this arrangement to you, namely, an entirely separate establishment, though in the same house, I must explain the motives that
lead me to suggest this plan. You have apparently lost all affection
and regard for me, and have attained such a state of indifference
towards me, that you can see me, meet me, and speak to me as you
would to one of your servants, or a common acquaintance, while
in every essential of intimate intercourse, affection, confidence, kindness, we are utterly estranged, and have as little in common, whether
of sentiment or interest, as two people who had never seen each
other till yesterday.'his state of things appears perfectly agreeable, or at least endurable to you; it is not so to me. I told you so
the other day; I now repeat it, together with my reasons for not being able to endure it, which I also laid before you the other day.
Having loved you well enough to give you my life, when it was best
worth giving, having made you the centre of all my hopes of earthly
happiness, having never loved any human being as I have loved you,
you can never be to me like any other human being, and it is utterly
impossible that I should ever regard you with indifference. My
whole existence having once had you for its sole object, and all its
thoughts, hopes, affections, and passions having, in their full harvest,
been yours, as you well know they were, it is utterly impossible that
I should forget this-that I should forget that you were once my lover,
and are my husband, and the father of my children. Such love as
K




71
mine has been for you, might, in evil hearts and by evil means, be
turned to hatred; but, be sure, it never can become indifference in
any one, nor in me can it as certainly ever become hatred. I cannot
behold you without emotion; my heart still answers to your voice,
my blood in my veins to your footsteps; and if this emotion is to be
one of perpetual pain, sudden, violent, intense, almost intolerable
pain, judge how little I am endowed by nature with a temperament
fit to endure so severe and incessant a trial. My intercourse with
you, if not a source of happiness, becomes one of anguish; and the
necessary communion which a life of intimacy brings, furnishes perpetually occasions of suffering greater than I can bear. I have told
you this already; I appealed to your humanity, when, after a prolonged season of this species of mental torture, I found myself, from
a combination of moral and physical causes, so nearly deprived of
my senses as to be upon the point of destroying myself. I entreated
you to save me from the horrible state of nervous malady into which
this very kind of intercourse with you had thrown me. God knows
your answer was hardly that of a man, much less of a friend or
husband. However, it is to avoid paroxysms of excitement, springing from nervous irritability, which I felt might lead me to the most
fatal results, and which arise in great part from physical causes not
under my own control, that I propose an entire separation from you,
if you still refuse me an entire reconciliation. I dare not expose
myself to influences which I have not strength to resist; and if my
intercourse with you is not to be one of kindness and cordiality, I
cannot attempt to make it, what on my part it can never be, one of
indifference and careless estrangement. My disappointment cries
aloud in my heart whenever I see you; and the recollection of the
past gives such bitter poignancy to the present, and such terrible
gloom to the future, that my senses seem ready to forsake me, at
the sight of the piteous wreck of my whole existence laid at your
feet-remember with what entire faith and love. If, however, you
will not consent that I should return to live under the same roof with




my children upon these terms, I have but one alternative left-to hire
a lodging, if possible, in the same house with my father, if not, as
near to him as possible, and take up my abode either with, or close
to him. It will be indispensably necessary that I should get a servant, as I have no human being to do anything for me; and though,
while in your house, I could dispense with a maid, and have done
so at your desire, I cannot, alone as I now am, do without one.
These necessary expenses of my maintenance of course you will
provide for, as you do not, I presume, anticipate my becoming a burden to any of the members of my own family, nor indeed should I
for a moment consent to do so. This, then, is the last proposal I
have to make; and should I not receive an answer from you before
Monday, I shall conclude that it is the one you wish me to adopt,
and shall act accordingly."
This letter, so full of passionate feeling, contains,
nevertheless, the reservation never lost sight of and
never yielded.    She says, "In consequence of your
"refusing to be reconciled to me, or to live with me,
"upon any but impossible terms," and "the further
"claim you have made upon me is such as your con"science should no more allow you to offer than mine
" will permit me to accept.    In the event, however, of
"your still adhering to this proposition, which I still
"unequivocally refuse, it remains for me to make some
" arrangement for my future existence."      These "'impossible terms," and this "further claim," which she
" still unequivocally refused," were the customary and
pledged acquiescence of a wife to marital controlnothing more.     As it is unnecessary to argue a point
generally conceded, and always absurd to attempt
proving an acknowledged truth, nothing is required
to show the error of this principle of equal rights in




76
marriage so obstinately contended for: no one, who
is not morally or intellectually astray, can fail to
feel and see the heartlessness and falsity of the pretension.
Her declarations on this matter of equal rights were
so perversely frequent and so emphatic, that there appeared to be no hope of reconciling our differences,
notwithstanding the strong mutual feeling which still
existed. She had established for her own peculiar
use a set of intractable notions which put domestic
peace at defiance, and overthrew in the household all
discipline and subordination, except those of her own
making; and without being willing to abandon any
one of these notions, she nevertheless expected me to
live with her upon her own terms. She had declared
in language most unequivocal that she " considered it
" her duty not to submit her conduct to the government
"' of any other human being," yet she claimed me as her
husband: and she emphatically added that, could she
for a moment think of doing such a thing, her judgment would not be so far blinded by her affection as
to suggest that this husband was fit for such a charge.,*
In another letter she declares, " the power to pursue
" duty and right as I am able to conceive them, is of
"course of more value to me than any thing else besides."t And in another, she says, " I think that it
"has led me to reflect upon some passages of our intercourse with self-condemnation, and a desire to dis-' charge my duty to you more faithfully, than I may
"hitherto have done. Yet do not now mistake me:' you ask me in your last how I like my independence,
-" See page 70.         t See page 87.




"and whether I remember how vehemently and fre"quently I objected to your control over my actions:"I remember all this well, and part of my regret in con"templating the past, arises from the manner of my re"sistance, not the fact itself. Whether one person can
"or ought to exercise control over another I think is a
"question your own justice and good sense would an"swer at once. Neither my absence from you, nor my
"earnest desire to be again with you, can make me ad" mit that the blessed and happy relationship, in which
"we stand to each other, is any thing but perfect com"panionship, perfect friendship, perfect love. For the
"existence of these justice must also exist; and there
"is no justice in the theory, that one rational creature
is to be subservient to another."*  And in another'i letter, " It is not in the law of my conscience to pro" mise implicit obedience to a human being fallible like
" myself, and who can by no means relieve me of the
" responsibility of my actions before God. Upon these
" grounds I could not promise obedience to any one."In short, nearly the whole of her married life had been
consumed in contending that she had a husband who
was not a husband-an automaton of " companionship, friendship, and love," without any rights, and
whose endeavours to guide and rule his own family
she was at liberty to oppose and defy.
I had suffered too many trials to be willing to incur the almost certain risk of again going through
what had so frequently happened, namely, a quarrel,
a separation, and a reconciliation,-and again a quarrel; and if this last appeal did not find an immediate
" See page 10.          t See page 11.




78
response on my part, it arose from the conviction that
I ought not to rely, as I had too often done before,
entirely on these eloquent protestations; and on love,
passionate, indeed, at times, but unyielding and without concession. I hoped for something more reliable:
and I waited in the hope that some influence would
lead her to perceive her error; and that our next reconciliation, which I longed for no less earnestly than
herself, might be more enduring, when it did happen,
than our former ones.
In naming the conditions in her letter upon which
she was willing to live with her family, she proposes,
first, to live with me upon her own terms-mine she
" unequivocally refuses:" second, if her terms do not
suit me-she proposes "to live entirely separate,"
and to have "an entirely separate establishment,
though in the same house:" and her third and last
proposal-in case I will not consent to either of her
others-is, " to hire a lodging, if possible, in the same
"house with her father; if not, as near him as possible,
"and take up her abode either with, or close to him."
And she adds, "this then is the last proposal I have
"to make; and should I not receive an answer from
"you before Monday, I shall conclude that it is the one
"you wish me to adopt, and shall act accordingly."
She did not wait, however, to receive an answer from
me to her various suggestions, but, deciding the question for herself, came to live in my house the very
day after she wrote me this letter. Her return to her
family was in this wise: I had lived in this new abode
for about a week, during which time Mrs. Butler lived
with her sister, when late one night, just at twelve
o'clock, there was a loud knocking at the front door;




79
the servants were all in bed; I was the only person
up, and I answered the summons to the door myself:
it was Mrs. Butler come back again.
I must not omit to mention that during this week,
she came once each day to see the children, and remained with them about half an hour; but as she had
not given me the least intimation of an intention to
return to her family, except upon the terms named in
her letter, which as yet I had not replied to, her visit
at such an unusual hour was entirely unlooked for, no
arrangements had been made for her coming, and the
servants had to be called out of bed to prepare a room
for her.
After this midnight return, we continued to live in
the same house, but for some time entirely separate,
even at our meals, and maintaining distinct establishments, which the size of the house enabled me to do.
When we received invitations to the houses of our
friends, our answers were returned separately; and,
when accepted, we did not go together. This was
soon remarked; it gave painful concern to our friends,
led them to a knowledge of the way in which we
lived, and finally brought about their interposition.
It may be asked, if on these occasions I never appealed to Mr. Kemble to exercise some influence over
his daughter, and to endeavour to set her right? I
did not. Mr. Kemble is a man of mild and gentle
disposition, and in no way calculated to control the
very opposite nature of his daughter. Moreover,
I knew he would be very unwilling to interfere between us, -and consequently never referred our difficulties to him.
Those friends who did interpose proved themselves




80
kind, judicious, and what is above all, just. The very
reverse of some of the persons into whose hands Mrs.
Butler has unfortunately fallen in this country. The
former laboured to effect a reconciliation, and they
succeeded. The latter may be warm partisans, but
they scarcely can be considered discreet counsellors.
Could she have had the advice in October, 1843, in
Philadelphia, of those who counselled her in London,
her conduct at that time, and subsequently, would
doubtless have been widely different from what it has
been.
The following letter, being    "Exhibit D," in Mrs.
Butler's " Narrative," was written in consequence of
urgent representations made to her by one of our
mutual friends, after several ineffectual interviews
with each of us.
"You have so repeatedly and harshly repelled all my attempts to
be reconciled to you, that nothing but an imperative sense of duty
would give me courage to address you again. But our mutual friend,
Mary Mackintosh, to whom I suppose you have expressed your
state of feeling with regard to me, has earnestly urged me to make
another appeal to you, and assured me that she thought our present
estrangement was a source of as much pain to you as to me. As
you had declared both that you preferred our present mode of living
to a more friendly one, and that, moreover, in this state of separation from me you were better able to fulfil your various duties, I had
naturally felt that it could not be desirable for you to be reconciled to
me, and that after such a declaration on your part, any further attempt on mine to alter your determination was really a selfish indulgence of my own earnest wishes. If, however, Mary Mackintosh
has understood you rightly, and has represented correctly to me your
feelings, you are not happy and satisfied in our present mode of liv



81
ing any more than myself, and the duty of again attempting to regain
a better and less miserable condition for both of us, forces itself upon
my mind. I hardly know now what it is that you require of me in
order to be reconciled to me. When, during your indisposition, I
asked you on my knees what promise it was that you exacted from
me, you replied, that you desired none; and, again, last night, Mary
Mackintosh assured me that you had told her that compliance was
all that you expected from me. Compliance with your wishes, and
obedience to your will, in every respect in which they do not interfere with the dictates of my conscience, I am most ready and willing to promise you. I have already expressed my extreme sorrow
for all my faults, both of omission and commission towards you, and
my sincere determination to endeavour not again either to offend or
pain you. If, therefore, my promise of compliance and obedience,
in all things where my conscience does not forbid them, may satisfy
you, pray accept it, and let me again earnestly entreat you to restore
your affection to me, and again to treat me as in heart and soul I
have never ceased to be, your true and devoted friend, and loving
wife. If this letter fails of its object, at any rate let me beg you to
consider that I have been moved to write it, by the representations
of your friend, who seemed to think that both my love and my duty
imperatively required that I should again express my feelings to you,
and endeavour to obtain the answer which she represented yours as
likely to return."
This letter is another of those given in the' lNarrative,"   as if never answered, and         of which    she
says, they "failed to produce any effect."          The deception involved in this assertion, and the utter disregard of fairness which the proceeding displayed, will
be conclusively proved by the insertion of the following reply, which, most luckily for my own vindication,
I am able to copy from the original corrected draft,
L




accidentally preserved, as before stated, without the
least idea of any use ever being made of it.       The letter shall speak for itself:-," As I did not separate from you for slight causes, nor without full
consideration, I do not think it advisable to rush into a reconciliation,
or without a clear understanding of the terms on which we are to
live together in future. Having tried for some years to live according to your ideas of equal rights and mutual independence, and as
we usually passed our lives in wrangling, unquietness, and contention, I slowly came to the conviction, after long trials of patience and
forbearance, that to live together any longer upon such terms was
neither desirable nor possible; and that unless a great alteration took
place in your conduct, I would live apart from you, leaving you to
the fiee indulgence of your own most determined will. Trusting,
however, to the strength of your affection, and to your earnestly expressed desire for a reconciliation, I yielded to my own feelings and
to your wishes, and agreed to make another trial of living together,
without having received a promise of that obedience, which I am
convinced it is your duty to yield. I did so, in the hope and trust
that the experience, and time for reflection, you had had, would convince you of the necessity of acting with more compliance towards
me than you had ever done before. It did not require long to prove
to me that my reliance was hopeless, and that I could expect nothing
but disappointment. Our daily life was soon subject to the same
causes of irritation and wretchedness that had usually beset it. This
confirmed me in the opinion I had always held, but which I had forborne to enforce, that without obedience from a wife to her husband,
it is utterly impossible to live happily together. The natural disposition of most women, which is gentle and yielding, leads them to
act with a spirit of compliance towards their husbands, and to consult their wishes in most things. In such cases there is no claim of
obedience, it is not needed; compliance is willingly and freely yield



83
ed, and nothing more is desired. Nor do I desire any thing more,
if I could but obtain that. Unfortunately your natural disposition so
frequently prompts you to act in direct opposition to all my wishes
and desires, and with hostility to my interests, and your extraordinary
strength of will makes you for the time so inaccessible to entreaty,
persuasion, or to reason, that I am forced to claim my right and the
fulfilment of your duty, and to exact that obedience which a different
spirit on your part would render unnecessary. You have always
refused to acknowledge that obedience was any part of your duty as
a wife; and have maintained that a wife has the same right to follow
her own wishes, to act upon her own opinion, and to indulge her
own whims and fancies as freely and as fully as her husband; and
you have not failed to act up to your principles on that point, so that
I have had neither obedience nor compliance from you. My past
experience would not lead me to expect much of the latter, but obedience you may at all times yield, if you but choose to do so. Your
letter contains the first intimation you have ever given me of any
disposition or willingness to yield obedience; heretofore you have
always said, (I will promise no obedience, do not expect it.9  You
now tell me, that compliance with my wishes, and obedience to my
will in every respect, in which they do not interfere with the dictates
of your conscience, you are most ready and willing to promise me.
This is the engagement that every woman enters into when she marries-it does not signify what ceremony of marriage is used-and it
is the fulfilment of this obligation, voluntarily and solemnly entered
into by you, that I require. I do not propose any new or unusual
condition. The promise that you now offer is indeed all that I require, but until now you have ever refused to make any such promise. If, therefore, you solemnly and deliberately, and with a firm
determination to keep it, do make me this promise, there is no bar to
our reconciliation. But as I do not wish you to deceive yourself,
nor to be again disappointed myself, I wish to have the clearest understanding between us, and I fairly tell you that I shall expect and




84
exact your promise to its entire extent. So long as you continue to
act in a spirit of compliance-as you did for a short time after our
reconciliation at Liverpool-there will be no occasion for me to
claim obedience; but there are times when you are possessed with a
determined spirit of resistance to every body and to every thing, but
more particularly towards me and my wishes; these have so continually occurred, that I fear they will recur again, and then you will
not act with compliance, and it will be necessary for me to claim that
obedience, which you are now willing to promise me. Before you
confirm that promise, I desire you to think well of it. I have twice
separated myself from you, and I have been once reconciled to you
upon your own terms, relying upon the assurances of affection and
compliance which you gave me. These soon failed, and again I
was obliged to leave you to the enjoyment of your will, for you
would do nothing that I wished. I then found that without obedience
on your part we could not live together, and until you would make
such a promise, I would not again attempt it. It is because I wish
our reconciliation to be permanent, that I ask you to think well of
your promise, which I may have occasion to claim to its fullest extent. I have separated from you on principle, and from necessity,
not from temper; and if we are now reconciled to each other, and
you again oblige me to leave you, it will be for the last time. It is
necessary also to have a clear understanding, as to the reservation
which you make with regard to your conscience. You promise obedience to my will in every respect in which it does not interfere with
the dictates of your conscience. You have often confounded will
with conscience, and may do so again, and when you are strongly
bent on doing any thing you may fancy that the dictates of your
conscience impel you to do it. My claim of obedience does not go
to the extent of expecting a wife to do what is positively wrong, or
sinful, at her husband's bidding; she would be justified in refusing
any such demand, and every one would support her in it. But fortunately right and wrong are not matters of opinion; those points




85
have been settled for us, and to distinguish between them is one of
the characteristics of a sane mind. It is not very probable, therefore, that I shall ever demand of you to do what is unfit, or wrong;
but in case you should ever imagine that the dictates of your conscience oblige you to do what is opposed to my wishes, I do expect
that you will not act hastily, or from sudden impulse, but that you
will take time calmly to deliberate upon it; and that you will also
consult those friends in whom you have confidence, and if they do
not support you in your opinion, that the point in disagreement between us does involve conscience, that then you will refrain from
acting against my wishes. If you can make up your mind to this,
then we may be reconciled; and if you will act towards me with a
spirit of compliance, there will be no need for my claiming your
promise of obedience; and I doubt not, but that we may live most
happily together."
The following is Mrs. Butler's reply: she has altogether omitted this also from her "N arrative."
" There is but one part of the long letter I received from you this
morning, which requires an answer, and I therefore confine myself
to that, leaving without comment the various positions and assertions
contained in the rest of it. The conclusion, containing the specific
statement of what you expect from me, is the only portion of it to
which I suppose you look for a reply. You say that (in the event
of your being reconciled to me), should any case arise between us,
in which I imagine that the dictates of my conscience oblige me to
do what is opposed to your wishes, you expect that I will not act
hastily and from sudden impulse, but that I will take time calmly to
deliberate upon it. To this I am very ready to agree, and shall
think myself benefitted by any promise, which may assist me to
postpone the decisions of my feelings to those of my judgment.
Further you say, that in such case you will also expect me to con



86
suit those friends in whom I have confidence, and if they do not
support me in my opinion, that the point in disagreement between
us does involve conscience, that I will then refrain from acting
against your wishes.  With the first part of this demand I am very
willing to promise compliance, namely, that in any case in which
my own sense of right runs counter to your wishes, I should consult the friends in whose wisdom and excellence I have faith, and
allow their opinions the full weight they deserve in modifying mine;
but I cannot possibly promise to abide by their decision, should it,
after calm and mature deliberation, be contrary to my own positive
conviction of what is right. This transfer of my own conscience,
whether to one or several individuals, is a thing which I consider
sinful in the highest degree, and which of course I cannot promise.
Due deliberation in the exercise of my own judgment, and a patient
reference to the judgment of others, I am perfectly ready to promise;
but the last tribunal, the supreme one, and from which there should
be no appeal, is conscience-the conscience of the individual him
or herself —God's spirit, which he has himself ordained as paramount; and to promise to place this in the hands of others is what
I dare not do. You must judge for yourself, whether the compliance
I offer with your conditions is likely to satisfy you. I have desired
our reunion most ardently, but there are certain prices at which
nothing is to be purchased, and the surrender of conscience is a sinful sacrifice which has no equivalent."
This subject of "conscience" is dwelt on so much,
and adhered to so obstinately by Mrs. Butler, that it
might very well lead any one to infer that she was frequently in danger of being required to do violence to it:
or that there were times when she was called upon in
some way to disobey some direct command of God.
So far from this being the case, no question ever arose
between us which by any possibility could be sup



87
posed to involve "conscience," unless it be that of
negro slavery.  The position that she assumed on
this topic was not a strong one: indeed, it scarcely
could be considered as tenable at all. The act of
marrying a slave owner, made her also a slave owner;
and her support as well as mine was derived from the
product of slave labour. Nor did her idea of duty,
or "conscience," ever impel her openly to take up
arms against this alleged evil, except on two occasions,
when she was solicited to do so by editors of abolition
publications, who sought her aid to promote their own
views.  Then, and only then, did she insist upon
bearing her testimony publicly against slavery: so
that in fact her " conscience" was moved to the point
of thus expressing her views, only when stirred to it
by the suggestion, or the request of others; and then
indeed it became so imperative on her, that my feelings
and all my entreaties were disregarded.
Nor can the view she takes of " duty" and " conscience" be considered as entirely sound. In a letter
written some time before the one above, she says, "My
"children's happiness does not go before all other
"things with me, though it goes far before any con"sideration of my own. My sense of duty is to me
"the vital part of life; and the freedom of my con"science-the power to pursue duty and right as I
"am able to conceive them-is of course of more value
"to me than any thing else besides." And in the
foregoing letter she maintains that, "the last tribu" nal, the supreme one, and from which there should
"be no appeal, is conscience-the conscience of the
"individual him or herself."  The dangerous sophistry of such sentiments held by an individual, and that




88
individual a woman, is apparent: if every person be
justified in exercising " the power to pursue duty and
right," as he or she only is "able to conceive them,"
what mischief and what fatal errors would not be the
necessary consequences? Before we could claim so
bold and important a prerogative, we must first establish that we have an exemption from all human frailties
and all false notions on matters of conduct; that we
have had and used the best means of improvement to
gain a perfect knowledge of our duty, and that our
judgment in morals admits of no perversion and no
mistake.
Nor is the error of her other sentiment less apparent, namely, that the " conscience of the individual,
him or herself," is " the supreme tribunal from which
there should be no appeal."  This is confounding the
"conscience" of the individual with the word of God,
whose direct commands are alone supreme, and from
which there is no appeal. Duty is taught us by the
cultivation of our moral perceptions; and "conscience" is the result of that intellectual discernment
which enables us to distinguish right from wrong; but
neither the lights nor the dictates are always so clear
and so strong as to point unerringly the path to follow. The moral perceptions may easily be clouded
by passion; and the conscience become hardened by
pride, by interest, or by prejudice. It is rather rash,
if not foolhardy, for any one to boast a perfectly enlightened conscience; and if we disdain the advice of
others, if we do not sometimes consent " to place our
conscience in the hands of others" on whose wisdom
and virtue we can rely, we may do very bad things.
There certainly are occasions when our own internal
monitor is all sufficient; these are, when we feel in



89
cined to disobey some direct command of God: then
conscience warns us; but it is our knowledge of His
law which enlightens and guides us. To suppose that
the feeling which we call " conscience" will, if obeyed,
always guide us clear of error, is the common and
pernicious fallacy of a self-righteous spirit: to yield implicitly to either its silence or its suggestions would
enlarge our self-reliance to such an extent as to make
that quality a dangerous possession; and no one, who
earnestly seeks to do right, will follow exclusively the
light of his own mind, or venture to rely in all cases
on his own ideas of duty.
One of the most marked features in Mrs. Butler's
character is, an entire self-reliance in matters of opinion; it is so unmeasured as to produce a conviction
of her own infallibility; it causes her to adhere obstinately to her own views on every subject; and it
has led her into much of the error of her life.
As her last letter brought us somewhat nearer to
the point that we both appeared desirous to reach,
and as it was useless, if not absurd, to contend longer
about this point of " conscience," I sought an interview with Mrs. Butler, hoping to effect more by conversation than by again writing. This interview did
not result, however, so satisfactorily as I had been
led to hope, and we parted without accomplishing a
reconciliation.  Soon after, I received the following
letter from her:-this, and my reply to it, have also
been omitted from her "Narrative."
"I do not know whether you had any intention or desire of being
reconciled to me just now. It has occurred to me since you left me,
M




90
that perhaps you had, and that some concession on my part would
have induced you to do so. As I am aware that it is my duty to
endeavour by all means to be reconciled to you if possible, I am
willing to make every exertion for that purpose.
" You seemed to expect some promise from me with regard to the
future; but those who have failed as signally as I have done in the
past, can surely hardly dare to promise for the future. One thing,
however, I can promise, which is to endeavour heartily to do my
duty better henceforward than I have done it hitherto. More than
this, I dare not say; for I know myself most fallible, and can hardly
hope to escape temptation; if this can satisfy you, pray accept it. I
am most unwilling that pride, or any other evil thing should prevent
my using every endeavour to conciliate you, and I am aware that I
have been so often in fault towards you, that though I may not have
much hope for the future, I have much regret for the past."
I could ask nothing more than this: it was all I
had ever desired or expected, and more than she had
ever offered before.     I returned the following brief
reply:
" I am quite satisfied with the promises you have made me; and
if you will adhere to them-to the spirit of them rather than to the
letter-our reunion will be happy and lasting."
Our reconciliation took place immediately: and we
again lived together on happy terms, for her promises
were kept both in the spirit of them and to the letter.
This better state of things between us was brought
about in the month of February, 1843; and we continued to live together on good terms after this, maintaining every relation of husband and wife, for the remainder of our stay in England, while we crossed the




91
Atlantic, and for a short time after our return to the
United States, which was in May, 1843.
Mrs. Butler's " Narrative" contains the following
statement:"From the autumn of 1842, although under the same roof, we
lived separate and with a general discontinuance of all the intercourse of husband and wife; and his treatment of me was such for
a length of time habitually that I should have been warranted by the
law of God and the land to depart wholly from his house, and never
see him more, without incurring the charge of desertion or any other
breach of my duty."
This statement, as will be seen from what has gone
before it, is simply untrue.
One of the four letters referred to, namely, "Exhibit C." in the "Narrative," has not been given
above: it is inserted here.
" I hear with great pain that you are ill. I dare not come to you
for fear of annoying and irritating you; but I implore you to let me
come to you and be with you while you are suffering and helpless.
Oh, Pierce, I love you dearly; pray let me come and nurse you,
and do anything in the world I can for you. I am miserable to hear
of your illness; only send me word that I may come-pray, pray,
do, dear Pierce."
The original of this, which is now before me, was
written apparently in haste, on a little blotted scrap
of paper: it was a missive from one room to another
in the same house, just before our reconciliation took




92
place: it seemed like the irrepressible outpouring of
affectionate feeling, and as such it was received by
me.
When these four letters appeared in print, it struck
many as very singular that copies of them, even to
this little outpouring, had been taken and retained;
and I have been asked more than once, "are you
sure you have the originals? May she not have got
"them back again?"  These originals are before me:
they have never left my possession since they were
received; and it could only be from copies carefully
made at the time each was written, that they have
been printed in the " Narrative."




DISUNION.
AFTER our return to Philadelphia, in May, 1843,
Mrs. Butler's conduct, which since our reconciliation
in London had enabled us to live together on comfortable terms, soon relapsed into its old waywardness
and irregularity. She totally disregarded what she
had promised at the time of our reconciliation in England:-" Compliance with your wishes, and obedience
"to your will, in every respect in which they do not
"interfere with the dictates of my conscience, I am
"most ready and willing to promise you."* She exhibited now, as formerly, strange perverseness of action and determined opposition to my wishes. One
instance, out of many, will suffice. I went in the
summer of that year, 1843, to the Chester Springs, or,
as they are more commonly called, the Yellow Springs,
about thirty miles from Philadelphia, intending to pass
the hot weather there. At this place is a large natural spring-bath: the hours for using it are, with ladies,
before twelve o'clock: with gentlemen, from twelve
until two o'clock, the last being the hour for dining.
My family was here for several weeks; I usually
* See page 81.




94
passed Saturday and Sunday with them; the other
days of the week I was in the city. Once, on going
to the Springs as usual, I was informed by the nurse
of my children, that she and they had been subjected
to an unpleasant occurrence in consequence of Mrs.
Butler's having taken them into the bath at the time
appropriated exclusively to gentlemen. I gave her
strict orders not, on any account, to remain there
after twelve o'clock. I also told Mrs. Butler that the
rules of the establishment must be observed, and that
she must conform to the appointed hours. At the end
of another week I again learned that Mrs. Butler had
continued to infringe the gentlemen's hour for bathing;
that her doing so had given rise to much dissatisfaction and complaint, and that she would probably bring
something unpleasant upon herself; for the Springs
had become quite crowded, and the time assigned to
gentlemen was scarcely sufficient to accommodate
them all. I now told her that if she persisted in such
conduct I must leave the Springs, as I feared she would
provoke insult, and involve me in personal altercation.
She paid no manner of regard to what I said. It was
Sunday; as the last ladies were quitting the bathingroom she took possession of it by herself, and remained in it until long past twelve o'clock, while a
crowd of gentlemen were impatiently waiting, by no
means in the best temper at this encroachment upon
their privilege. My only alternative was to leave the
place; I did so, the same afternoon; and returned
most unwillingly to the hot city with my children in
the middle of the month of August.
Choosing to have the confirmation of others in regard to her conduct in this instance, I have obtained




95
a letter from   Mr. Holman, the manager of the establishment, which is here inserted, together with the
letter I wrote to him on the subject:
" Philadelphia, January 14, 1850.
"Dear Sir,
" If the suit instituted by me for a divorce had been tried, as at one
time I fully expected, you would have received a subpoena and been
summoned as a witness in the case. You would have been examined as to Mrs. Butler's conduct, and the effect of it, during my
visit to the Yellow Springs in the summer of 1843, while your mother was proprietor of the place, and you had the direction of the
hotel.
"You will oblige me by stating now, in writing, exactly what you
would have said, if you had been put under oath on the witness
stand.
b' Yours, &c.
6 PIERCE BUTLER.
S SAM. HOL-MAN,' Yellow Springs, Chester County, Pa."
" Chester Springs, January 16, 1850.
Dear Sir,
6 Your letter of the 14th instant was duly received, asking me to
state in writing, what Mrs. Butler's conduct was in regard to her infiinging the rules at our bathing establishment, during her sojourn
with us in the summer of 1843. In answer I would state that our
rules for bathing, as painted and hung over the bath door, were,' Ladies' hours from 10 to 12 o'clock: Gentlemen's, before 10 and after
12.' Information was given to me at the bar, that Mrs. Butler had
occupied the bath at different times long after the hours allotted for
ladies to bathe, and as our dinner hour was 2 o'clock, gentlemen
could not get into the bath before dinner, and if she persisted in so




doing they would be under the necessity of forcing the door upon
her. There was considerable company at the Springs at the time,
and the dissatisfaction was pretty general among the gentlemen; the
door was not forced, as you arrived at the Springs soon after, and
took your family off. This is the substance of all I know.
"I am, very respectfully,
" Your obedient servant,
"; SAM. HOLMAN.
"'PIERCE BUTLER, Esq., Philadelphia."
This state of obstinate opposition, thwarting all I
asked and had a right to expect, grew worse and worse;
her constant tone of mind towards me was that of
mingled resentment and defiance, and her temper
seemed incapable of abatement or repose. Still I had
courage and patience to bear up in these ceaseless trials while there was any hope of her abiding with her
children; but now all good influences appeared to
leave her, and she became more firmly determined
than ever to carry out her long meditated plan of separation.  She consulted a legal adviser, Mr. Gerhard, who called to his assistance Mr. Meredith.   If
she had consulted only these two gentlemen, it would
perhaps have been better for her; or, as I have before
remarked, had her friends and advisers here proved as
judicious and just as those who counselled her in
England, her course at this crisis would probably have
been very different. But unfortunately she fell into
bad hands; she poured out her complaints to persons
who only fanned the fire of her temper, who exasperated rather than soothed her, and who by their odious and pernicious intermeddling helped to complete
the wreck of my happiness.




97
She now finally withdrew    herself from  all intercourse with me, communicating her determination to
do so in the following characteristic note:"In consequence of your infidelity towards me, and your ill treatment of me, I have come to the determination to be separated from
you. I have consulted Mr. Gerhard upon the subject, and must refer you to him as my counsel, in which capacity, as he has declined
visiting me here (since I have consulted him professionally), without
your knowledge and consent, I wish to know if you have any objection to my receiving him here.
" FANNY.
" Friday, 27th October," [1843.]
I returned no answer to this note; and received a
visit in relation to it from Mr. Theodore Sedgwick.
He came to my chamber, where at the time I was confined to my bed by illness.  Mrs. Butler, he said, desired a reply to her inquiry, as her counsel declined
calling upon her until assured that I did not object to
his doing so.  I told Mr. Sedgwick that she was at
liberty to receive her counsel, but I would hold no
communication with that counsel as such, nor would
I be a party to any formal contract of separation.
At the same time I expressed my perfect willingness
to talk to him, Mr. Sedgwick, about my affairs, as he
stood in the light of a mutual friend.  He wished me,
he said, so to consider him, and distinctly represented
himself, not as Mrs. Butler's legal assistant, but as a
friend to both parties, with the sole desire of doing
good to both.   Mrs. Butler's present aversion to me,
I then said, seemed so bitter, and her intention of separating from me so fixed, that I should put no obstaN




98
cle in her way, nor did I wish her to live with me in
violence to her feelings; but, I added, no necessity
whatever existed for the interference of lawyers, as I
would make an arrangement to secure her a perfectly
independent residence, such as she desired; and that
he, our mutual friend, should communicate its details
to her.   I offered two thousand five hundred dollars
a year for her support; and as we were then at lodgings, she could have apartments distinct from       mine,
though under the same roof, and thus be able to maintain a constant intercourse with her children, with
which I should not interfere: nor indeed should I interfere with her in any way, while she conformed to
three conditions deemed by me indispensable, namely,
not to go on the stage-not to advocate in print the
abolition cause-and not to publish any writings disapproved by me:-as either of these three acts would
annul the arrangement.
Some days subsequently I received the following
from Mr. Sedgwick:"New York, November 6, 1843.
"My dear Butler,
"In our conversation on Sunday before last you stated to me that
you would not be a party to any formal separation with Mrs. Butler.
But that if she determined to live apart from you, you would interpose no obstacle to her so doing. That you would pay her monthly
or quarterly for her separate use one-third of your income, not to be
less for the present (and until you had ascertained exactly the amount
of your income) than twenty-five hundred dollars; that she might
reside either at the same place you reside in or in another that she
preferred; and that she might have free intercourse with her children
as often and as constantly as she pleased, as much so in short as at




99
present. The only terms you attached to this offer, were that she
was not to go on the stage, not to publish anything of which you
disapproved, and not to avow herself an abolitionist; that either of
these things would alone put an end to all intercourse with the chil
dren and all dependence on you.
" In the event of this being handed to you Mrs. Butler will have
determined to accept the proposition, and I have then to say that she
desires the payments to be made to me; that I will receive them, and
that she wishes the first monthly or quarterly payment to be made at
once, and hereafter in advance, as this I suppose must be a matter of
indifference to you.
" I am very truly yours,
" THEODORE SEDGWICK.
" PIERCE BUTLER, Esq, Philadelphia."
The following was my reply:" Philadelphia, Nov. 8, 1843.
"My dear Sedgwick,
s" Your letter dated the 6th instant has been handed to me, and as
you advise me, I receive it as a formal and deliberate declaration on
the part of my wife that it is her wish and intention to live apart
from me, to be separated from me.
" As I do not desire her to live with me against her inclination, I
shall offer no opposition to her resolution. You recapitulate the subject of a conversation between us on Sunday, 29th of October last.
It is correct except in one particular, and in that you have misapprehended me,' That she might reside either at the same place you reside in, or in any other that she preferred, and that she might have
free intercourse with her children as often and as constantly as she
pleased, as much so in short as at present.' It must be obvious to
you that this could not be so, after she withdraws herself from my
family, and ceases to be a member of it. Her wish for a separation




100
seems to be deliberate, and her determination fixed, and therefore I
no longer consider her as forming part of my family. I should not
prevent the children from going to see her, nor should I object to her
coming into my house to see them; but how can she' reside at the
same place I reside in,' and be separated from me?
" I said that she could live in this house,' or in any other that she
preferred,' but it is plain that she could not live in my house, nor
could she continue to exercise any domestic control, after resolving of
her own free will to be separated from me. This house is public,
and it is only in my own apartments that I have control; she can, no
doubt, engage other apartments here, and so live here if she like;
but when I go into a house of my own, my arrangements will be
made without any reference to her, and I shall take the entire direction of my family, as I was obliged to do at one time in England,
when she left my house. I have no wish to prescribe any course to
her, but I must know distinctly her intention.
"I offered one-third of my income for her separate use; but of
course that was meant for her entire support. She could not expect
to receive this proportion, and live at the same time in my house. If
she wishes to do so, or to live in my apartments while here, a sum
shall be set apart for her separate use, but it must necessarily be less
than one-third, as it would be for personal expenses only. There is
no difficulty as regards the amount; if it be for her support, onethird shall be paid regularly.
" In the mean time, and until this is settled, I shall allow her the
exclusive use of one of the rooms; presuming that she will withdraw to her own apartments on receiving the first payment on account of one-third of my income per year.
" Yours, very sincerely,
" PIERCE BUTLER."
It is with reluctance that I introduce the names of
other persons into this statement, but the share they




101
voluntarily took in my domestic troubles renders it
unavoidable. At this unhappy period no less than
four members of the Sedgwick family hastened to Philadelphia, officiously and offensively to intermeddle
with my private concerns, and their conduct formed so
strong a contrast to what it always had been at prior
periods, that I am forced to speak of it without reserve. Their professions of friendship, and my unabated reliance on them up to this time, render their
subsequent change and treachery towards me the
more glaring, and I think their behaviour justifies all
I say of them. They received Mrs. Butler's exaggerations without question; they sought no disavowal
or explanation from me, nor did they venture to
seem for a moment to doubt the truth of her accusations. Intimately acquainted with the peculiarities of
her disposition, they had long since ascertained the
danger they would incur by differing from one so
" morbidly susceptible to reproof or disapprobation."*
Years before they had depicted her traits correctly,
and subsequent intercourse had rendered their knowledge of her singular and impracticable nature more
exact and correct. Mrs. Sedgwick had assured her
that "her mind was positively and greatly diseased,
" and that she had herself been the cause of all that
"appearance of indifference in her husband, which
"she now believed to be the original source of her
"unhappiness."t  She had also said to her, "My
"dearest Fanny, believe me, you are altogether mor"bid on this subject. You have the best means of
"happiness that this world ever furnishes, in your
* Mrs. Sedgwick's letter, p. 39.    t Idem, p. 40.




102
"power, and still you are wretched. You have af"fluence, a husband whose love you do not ques"tion, as fine children as mortal was ever blessed
"with, and rare gifts of mind and heart; but you
"inherit undoubtedly, from your mother, those mor"bid tendencies which poison and spoil all."  " Did
"you not tell me once, that you admired Kate's dis"cernment in telling you that she did not believe you
"could be very happy in any situation?  And surely,
"surely you will find it so."  "I assure you there
"are those things in every married woman's life,
"which, if she were constituted as you are, would
"make her as wretched as you."  " But, my dearest
"Fanny, even if you still persist in your belief, that
"you are a wronged and injured woman, although
"your convictions may remain just the same, in spite
" of all I can say, still I do not think that they afford' the slightest justification for your leaving your hus"band."  " You voluntarily put yourself in the way
"of becoming a mother, and I cannot think of a more
"heinous offence against God and right, than to cast
"off this duty."  "You have an immense trust re"posed in you; think what it is to have such a soul
"as Sarah's put into your keeping, and will you con"sign it to any chance care? Will you throw it away
"from you, as a vexed child tosses away her play
"thing?"  "My poor, dear Fanny, my precious, al"most idolized friend, do let me persuade you, that
"your mind is diseased. How can you do this great
"iniquity and sin against God? If, indeed, a mind in
"such a state as yours is morally responsible. You
"have, dear, great confidence in me; in my sense of
"right; so much, that I have sometimes wondered




103
"how I came to inspire it; but since it is so, do put
"yourself under my guidance for a little time; do not
"act rashly, or hastily."*
But experience had taught them that such honest,
wholesome admonition was not the way to keep on
good terms with Mrs. Butler; it was not palatable;
she took it impatiently; it irritated, and there was
danger of her quarrelling also with them: they knew
full well that no advice would be acceptable which did
not sanction and stimulate her animosity towards myself: to offer counsel at variance with her excited
feelings, would be construed into want of sympathy,
the ardour of their friendship would be suspected, and
they incurred the imminent risk of being regarded
as lukewarm, if not something worse. They knew
that to prolong their intimacy with one, they must
wholly abandon the other, and they had no hesitation
in doing so; at a time, too, when their cooler and
firmer judgment might really have been of service to
both.
One of the four members of this family, who, as I
have said, came to Philadelphia at this crisis to mix
themselves up in my domestic disquietudes, was Mrs.
Charles Sedgwick. She came uninvited: I received
her, however, as usual. But I soon found her manner towards me changed, and after she had been with
us a day or two, I received from her the following
extraordinary letter:6" Sunday,.J. M., Nov. 5, 1843.
"You have been kind to me, and I have been a true friend to you,
but you must be aware that we stand no longer upon the same foot* Mrs. Sedgwick's letter, pp. 41, 42, 43.




104
ing as formerly; that I regard you as having deliberately and deeply
injured the dearest friend that I have upon earth out of my own family; and that my sympathy with her is that of a woman, as well
as of a friend. You must recollect your having told me the last
spring, that you had never sinned against Fanny in any way. The
declaration appeared to me at the time to imply an incredible degree
of self-delusion: what must I think of it now? Can I respect your
truth, or sin against my own, by appearing to regard you as formerly?
I have no feeling of unkindness towards you, nothing to prevent my
exchanging the common salutations of civility with you, nothing to
prevent my praying God, as I have already done many times, to
bring you back to him; but there can no longer be friendship, or
even the appearance of it, between us. Under these circumstances
I am aware that I ought not without permission to seat myself at the
same meals with you; and if you prefer that I should not do so, you
must tell me this, and I will go to the public table.*
" E. B. S."
When I received this strange and impudent communication, I perceived that Mrs. Sedgwick had
caught the infection from the " diseased mind" of her
"almost idolized friend," but I immediately wrote the
following reply"Nov. 5, 1843.
( As my kind feelings towards you are not changed, you are as
welcome at my table now as you were ever welcome in my house,
when I had one to receive you in. You will always be welcome
when you choose to come where I am. That your sympathy should
be strong for your friend is but natural, and though it turns you
* I was living at a lodging-house, in Philadelphia, where I had private
apartments, and a private table. Mrs. Sedgwick continued to occupy my
apartments, and to sit at my table, while her visit lasted.




105
against me, it cannot mislead me so far as to alter the smallest feeling
of regard that I ever felt for you. Misguided herself, she has misled
you. Without sense, discretion, or judgment to direct and control
an impetuous disposition, an unquiet temper, and a never satisfied
mind, she rushes into errors which time can never repair; gives way
to feelings of temporary animosity against me, and believing herself
to be an unhappy woman, she strongly engages the sympathy of her
friends for wrongs which are imaginary, and for injuries which are
self-inflicted. This state of feeling soon changes, and her mind for
a time becomes better regulated; but the impression, that in her moments of phrensy, she has given others, unfortunately remains. It
is thus she injures both herself and me. God, who has withheld
reason from her, alone can endow her with it now; and without his
aid she must walk in error as she has ever done. To you, perhaps,
the truth will one day appear; you will know her better than you do
at present, your affection for her will not always blind you as it does
now, and when you rightly perceive her failings, and her unhappy
weaknesses, your sympathy may be of more service to her than it
can be now, when, like herself, you are under the influence of feelings engendered in error, and which for the time obscure the reason.
Be sure you will one day think very differently; and when that day
dawns upon you, you may rely upon my regard for you being unchanged. For the monstrous wrong she does me, I freely forgive
her. It can never create one feeling of anger or hatred against her:
I think of her with the deepest commisseration, and weep;-oh! how
I weep when she knows it not-that a heart so warm and true as
hers, should be warped by a head so weak.
" My way is before me; towards her, and towards our children,
my duty shall be fulfilled. God has of late endowed me with a
strength that I never have felt before: I feel conscious of being able
to go through with my allotted task, and it shall be done.
"Though faults of temper, errors of jugmnent, and misguided
reason may estrange her feelings from me for a time, our hearts can
0




106
never be disunited: she knows mine too well, and as well do I know
hers. Both are true. If in this life the head shall continue to oversway the heart, then must we look to the everlasting hereafter-there
rightly to feel, and rightly to know each other.
" You have told me that there can no longer be friendship, or even
the appearance of it, between us. This then may be the last communication that will pass between us, and I wish to tell you that
your three kind letters to me last summer were received as kindly
as they were written; and although I did not reply to them, I was
not the less thankful and grateful. I wished to accept your invitation to send the children to see you, but I had strong reasons for
keeping them here, and regretted that I could not do as you asked.
It has troubled me much lest you should think I was cold or indifferent to your kindness, and I will not let this opportunity pass without assuring you it was not so.
" PIERCE BUTLER."
In Mrs. Butler's note of October 27,- in which she
announces her " determination to be separated from
me," she says, that it is in consequence of my "infi"delity towards her, and my ill treatment of her."
And Mrs. Sedgwick says, that "' she regards me as
"having deliberately and deeply injured the dearest
"friend she has upon earth out of her family."      This
refers to the charge of "infidelity," which was then,
for the first time, employed against me, and was then
and has ever since been made the chief groundwork
on which an excuse was raised to justify Mrs. Butler's
separating herself from me. It will scarcely be believed that this imputation by Mrs. Butler and her
echoes was the offspring of suspicion only; and that
after many exertions, some silly and some disreputa* Page 97,




107
ble, to sustain it by something in the shape of evidence, they so utterly failed as to feel the necessity of
formally abandoning it. Such are, however, the facts.
Mrs. Butler asserted positively to her friends, that I
had been unfaithful, and they, believing her, repeated
the allegation, as the most simple and convenient
mode of justifying their own conduct towards me: it
went forth, and was received as such scandal usually
is, without proof, and defying contradiction. At that
very time, when she and the Sedgwicks were circulating the accusation with the utmost positiveness,
they were perfectly conscious that they were without
evidence, and that it rested exclusively upon angry
invectives and suspicions. But as they wished them
to be true, they probably believed their surmises, and
supposed it would be possible to ferret out proof of
them; the more so as there were not wanting persons
who, to ingratiate themselves with Mrs. Butler, promised to procure the desired evidence. The first attempt of this sort which came to my knowledge was
made by endeavouring to enlist against me one of my
domestic servants, the nurse of my children. She
was visited in the nursery one morning by Mrs.
Charles Sedgwick, who dexterously strove to lead her
into talking injuriously of me, and to commit her into
saying that my life in London had been dissipated,
and that I had ill treated my wife; all of which being
fresh news to the nurse, she could neither confirm,
nor converse about. Failing in that, she asked the
nurse if I had never made any sort of an attempt upon
her own virtue, which so enraged the woman, that giving her inquisitor an indignant rebuff, she immediately
came to inform me of this dirty course of conduct.




108
So despicable an intrigue, by a person sitting daily
at my table, breaking the same bread with me and my
children, opened my eyes to her real character; and
I confessed the truth of what she had written to me,
that there "could no longer be friendship, or even the
appearance of it," between us two.
Detected and exposed in this unworthy attempt to
injure me, the malignity of a vulgar nature was
awakened, and thenceforward revelled in active and
bitter enmity.
So frankly and implicitly had I trusted the different
members of this family, that the base act of one of
them did not lead me to doubt the others, nor did I
withdraw from them my ill-judged and misplaced confidence until all and each of them proved, by individual
acts, the existence of a common disposition and movement to destroy my last hope of domestic peace. Mrs.
Butler will one day deplore, if she has not done so
already, her too close connexion with those persons.
She made them her allies in her frantic warfare upon
her own household, and thus far they have served her
purposes; but their attachment has none of the qualities of true friendship; it yields subserviently to her
will, and even to her opinions, wrong as they must
often know them to be, having early discovered that
those who wish to enjoy the charm of her association
can only secure it by seeming to approve her worst
follies. Nor are they reliable; treachery is in their
nature, and, when'their own ends are to be answered,
they will betray her with as little reluctance or disguise as they falsified their professions to me.




109
On November 21, 1843, 1 made the first monthly
payment of two hundred and eight dollars to Mr.
Theodore Sedgwick on Mrs. Butler's account, according to the arrangement in our respective letters
of November 6 and 8.*  From that time Mrs. Butler
assumed the separate occupation of her own apartments, and though under the same roof I never saw
any thing of her. My children went freely at all
hours from my rooms into hers. We had lived in
this way for two months, when I was told that Mrs.
Butler spoke to others of the arrangement as a merely
temporary one: saying that she intended suing for a
divorce on the allegation of adultery, which, if successful would assign to her the custody of my children; that the requisite testimony only was wanting,
and she expected soon to command it, as her friends
were making such inquiries into my mode of life as
would lead them to procure it. This information,
obtained in a way that left no doubt of the shameless
schemes to which resort was had, gave me no uneasiness whatever: I feared nothing in the shape of evidence; and I knew that no law could invade my house
and deprive me of my children, while I continued to
protect and cherish them as a faithful and affectionate
guardian.
But I was also apprized that Mr. Theodore Sedgwick was one of the peering and prying inquisitors in
pursuit of evidence. I could not credit this information. He had always in our relations acted with apparent frankness, and had so repeatedly expressed
regret at our unhappy difficulties, with a desire to be
* Pages 98, 99.




110
of service to both of us by his counsel and mediation,
that I could not, with any reason or generosity, believe him to be playing a double part.       I was told of
his having written to a person in London to ascertain
and report any     scandal that might have circulated
about me during my residence there. Although positively assured of this fact, my mind rejected it at first
as impossible, but finally, to remove any doubt, I
wrote to him frankly and briefly thus:"' Philadelphia, January 25, 1844.
"My dear Sedgwick,
(" Did you write to Mr. Lowndes in London, to ask him to give
you information on any matter concerning my conduct while in London. I would scarcely ask you such a question if I had not heard
positively that you have done so, and I take the most direct way of
ascertaining if it be incorrect or correct.
" Yours, very truly,
" PIERCE BUTLER."
The following was his reply:"' New York, February 1, 1844.
< My dear Butler,
" I regret that your letter of the 25th January has so long remained unanswered. I received it this morning on my return from
Albany, where I went last week.
" I am in some doubt if I am at liberty to reply to your inquiry,
and would prefer leaving it unanswered until next week, when I
mean to be in Philadelphia, although, personally, I have no objection
to answer at once. Any explanation that I have to make would be
better and more satisfactorily made verbally. Whenever I do it, I
suppose you will have no objection to let me know the name of your
informant.




111
" This, perhaps, is all the reply that your letter now requires;
but from a phrase which it contains, I infer the existence of an impression on your mind that I ought not to leave uncorrected. If I
rightly apprehend that phrase, it implies that I was bound to communicate to you what passed between Mrs. Butler and myself in regard to you; or that I was not at liberty to act in relation to the controversy between you and her without apprizing you of what I did.
I think you cannot on reflection misunderstand my position in this
matter. It is one in which I have never sought to intermeddle, in
which I have interfered with great reluctance, and only in the hope
of preventing an open rupture. But you cannot have forgotten that
it is only as Mrs. Butler's friend and counsellor that I have acted.
She first applied to me in regard to her property, and I advised the
trust deed which was executed. She again applied to me in regard
to her execution of conveyances, and I again advised her to execute
such as you submitted for her signature. My agency was up to this
time merely limited to advising her generally as to her rights and
duties, and I had no intercourse with you on the subject but to apprize you of what I had done. In October last, when Mrs. Butler
discovered the letters which, in her opinion, gave her sufficient reason for insisting on an instant separation, she applied to me a third
time, and I then, at her request, and as her friend and adviser saw
you. We talked over the whole matter. I informed you of the efforts I had made to induce her to lay aside her intention of quitting
your house, and stated to you distinctly the possibility of her filing a
bill for a divorce on the ground of infidelity. After this conversation
I cannot conceive you could have doubted that if, most unfortunately,
my efforts had been in vain, and Mrs. Butler had applied to me professionally to enforce her rights by legal measures, that I should have
considered myself not merely at liberty, but bound to assist her.
Had I supposed any other impression existed in your mind, I should
at once have sought to remove it, as I do now.
" The arrangement which resulted from that interview was purely




112
temporary: you refused to reduce any thing to writing, and Mrs.
Butler and yourself both declined fixing any time for its continuance.
I was agreed on as a sort of trustee for her, to receive and pay over
her allowance.
1" Even more than this: although from the nature of the case our
conversation was private, and on private affairs, still you never placed
the slightest confidence in me: I knew nothing from you. You
never gave me for a moment to understand, directly or indirectly,
that you considered me otherwise than as Mrs. Butler's friend and
legal adviser. I certainly then understood myself, as I do now,
bound to assist her in every way in my power; but feeling as I did
and do towards you, I was desirous to do every thing to prevent an
open rupture. So far as Mrs. Butler's rights and interest could be
protected without adverse measures, it was my duty and desire to
prevent any interruption of the amicable relations which had previously existed between you and myself. I hoped that, if possible,
matters might not be brought to such a pass that I should be compelled to take any measures hostile to yourself.
" I have said this much, perhaps unnecessarily, to prevent your
remaining for a moment under an erroneous impression as to my
view of my duties and responsibilities in this matter, though I
can scarcely suppose that we have not perfectly understood each
other.
" I have now only to add, that I have done nothing throughout
this whole matter, but with a single view to the best interests of
yourself, your wife, and your children; and I have always considered
that those interests could not be effectually served in any way but
by keeping your family together.
"I have all along been apprehensive that the moment must come
when the nature of the controversy between you and Mrs. Butler
would become such as to prevent my meeting you as we have heretofore done. Whenever that period arrives, if arrive it must, I shall




113
much regret it; and particularly because it will greatly diminish my
chances of usefulness to either of you.
"I am, very truly yours,
THEODORE SEDGWICK.
"PIERCE BUTLER, Esq., Philadelphia."
This hesitation of Mr. Sedgwick to give an immediate and explicit answer to so straightforward a
question, coupled with the long and evasive argumentation he professed to hang on a single, and to me undiscoverable "phrase" in my letter, instantly convinced
me of his duplicity, and left not a vestige of doubt as
to the light in which I must henceforth view him. In
order to make a position for himself he resorts to untruth: he says, "you cannot have forgotten that it is
"only as Mrs. Butler's friend and counsellor that I
"have acted."  That was not so. Mrs. Butler referred me to Mr. Gerhard as her counsel,* and I refused to hold any communication with that gentleman
as such; this I distinctly told Mr. Sedgwick when he
visited me in my sick room for an answer to Mrs.
Butler's note of October 27; and at the same time I
expressed my readiness to talk to him about my affairs, as I regarded him as a mutual friend; and he as
distinctly told me that he wished me to consider him
as such mutual friend, whose only desire was to do
good to both; we accordingly entered upon the subject, and I conversed with him without reserve. Had
Mr. Sedgwick then avowed himself as the professional
counsel of Mrs. Butler, as he untruly asserts he did,
I would have refused to see him, and that he knew
* See Mrs. Butler's note, p. 97.
P




114
very well; for why should I consent to receive him
in that character, and refuse to see Mr. Gerhard, to
whom, personally, I had not the slightest objection,
and with whom I had always been on perfectly good
terms?  He further says, it was " at her request and
"as her friend and adviser that I saw you."  And,
"you never gave me for a moment to understand,
"directly or indirectly, that you considered me other"wise than as Mrs. Butler's friend and legal adviser."
In saying this Mr. Sedgwick asserts what he is aware
is untrue. It is equally untrue when he says, "still
"you never placed the slightest confidence in me: I
"knew nothing from you." On the contrary, I conversed with him in the most free and unsuspecting
manner, and he admits that "we talked over the
whole matter," and that " our conversation was private and on private affairs."  He says, "I stated to
"you distinctly the possibility of her filing a bill for
"a divorce on the ground of infidelity:" yes, he said
this; but he did not tell me that he was to be her advocate; and when he remarked that the "letters dis" covered by Mrs. Butler in her opinion gave her suf"ficient reason for insisting on an instant separation,"
I at once and without hesitation put those very letters
into his hands; in the face of which he asserts that
"I never placed the slightest confidence," in him, and
that " he knew nothing from me."
The history of these letters is this. During my
temporary absence in New York, Mrs. Butler went
to my secretary and examined my papers: among
them she found two letters, the seals of which had
never been broken; she broke the seals and read the




115
letters; she found them to be old, written several
years before, without signatures, and apparently in the
handwriting of a female. I had never opened or read
them. On my return from New York she handed
them to me and acknowledged what she had done. I
was very much provoked, and deeming her act in
breaking the seals as unjustifiable as her searching
among my papers was indelicate and unwarrantable, I
refused to give her any explanation whatever respecting them. She was incensed at my opinion of her
conduct, and upon these incidents, and these alone,
has vented her suspicions and imputations of infidelity.
When Mr. Sedgwick referred to these letters in our
conversation I immediately gave them to him, to let
him see that their contents would not sustain the inference she had drawn from them. He too must have
thought so, for they were never called for by her
counsel, as they certainly might have been if judged
to import criminality. It is to this circumstance
Mrs. Butler refers in her "Narrative" when she
says —"In consequence of discovering, in October,
" 1843, as I believed, that he had been guilty of a
"breach of the primary obligations of the marriage
" contract, at an early, and what to me had been a less
"unhappy period of my married life-although I do
"not assert such to have been the case as matter of fact,
"forasmuch as I have not legal proof thereof-and, in
"consequence of my communicating that belief to him
"with the evidence on which I had adopted it, the last
"hope of reunion became extinguished, our inter"course as husband and wife totally ceased, the rela"tion itself practically terminated, and thereupon, an
"arrangement of separation was entered into, under
"which we continued to live as I have above stated."




116
These two violated letters, never read by me, are
absolutely all that she and her allies, the Sedgwicks,
ever have been able to conjure up in support of their
oft repeated charge of infidelity.
Mr. Sedgwick's reply having fully manifested his
real attitude and character, I wrote to him as follows:' Philadelphia, February 4, 1844.
6 Sir,
"Your letter of February 1st was received yesterday. You decline answering at once my inquiry, and I am not surprised at your
refusal. The new character in which you now choose to exhibit
yourself renders it necessary to call special pleading and equivocation to your aid, and admonishes me not to expect from you in future
the candour and frankness that should characterize the intercourse of
friends. For the first time you there declare yourself exclusively the
legal adviser of Mrs. Butler, in what you are pleased to term her'controversy' with me.  Have you forgotten, Sir, that when you
handed me the note from Mrs. Butler, in which she requested a separation, and in which she referred me to Mr. Gerhard as her legal
adviser, that I then expressed to you my determination to hold no
communication with any lawyer on the subject, but that I should
have no objection to confer with you as the mutual friend of Mrs.
Butler and myself? Have you also forgotten your distinct assurance
that you acted only in the capacity of mutual friend?  You cannot
have so treacherous a memory: but now that you feel yourself detected in a violation of all honour and decency, and can no longer
conceal your designs against my domestic peace, you announce yourself as the counsellor, forsooth, of the other party. You have sought
to obtain materials from the vilest sources for the purpose of fomenting dissention in my family: your own conscience should teach you
that a faithful legal adviser, who consults the real interests of his cli



117
ent, should not lend himself to the angry passions and jealous fancies
of an excited woman, and should hesitate to encourage in such delicate matters a recourse to legal tribunals. Even where the proofs of
a husband's infidelity are undeniable, any honest lawyer and true
friend would be anxious to soothe the indignant feelings of the injured wife, and to restore the harmony which had previously existed
between the parties: but in the present case, where no evidence of
unfaithfulness can be adduced, I hold the conduct of that man deserving of the severest reprehension, who, acting under the pretence of
sympathy for imaginary wrongs, or under a hypocritical affectation
of professional duty, seeks to establish by the most infamous practices a conviction in the mind of his ill-advised client of her husband's unworthiness, and to confirm by positive testimony what was
before only a matter of vague suspicion. To conclude, Sir, I have
only to say that I consider the tone of your letter impertinent, and
the matter irrelative to the subject on which I thought proper to address you; and that I look upon it as a laboured effort on your part
to define the new position which my recent call upon you has forced
you to assume. You will understand that in future I can hold no
further communication with you on any subject whatever.
"I am, Sir,
"' Your obedient servant,
" PIERCE BUTLER.
" THEODORE SEDGWICK, Esq., New York."
Notwithstanding the unequivocal and peremptory
tone of the foregoing, Mr. Sedgwick ventured to address me again, but I returned his letter unopened: I
sent it to a friend in New York to hand back to him
with the seal unbroken; which was done, as I learned
from the following:



118
" New York, February 9, 1844.
" My dear Butler,
"I have just delivered to Mr. Sedgwick, personally, the letter
which you enclosed to me for that purpose; of course, without any
discussion or conversation. If I can be of any further service to
you, do not hesitate to call upon me.
"Ever faithfully yours,
"' BEVERLEY ROBINSON, Jr.
"PIERCE BUTLER, Esq."
This ended all intercourse between Mr. Theodore
Sedgwick and myself.
I continued to pay monthly to Mr. Gerhard the
sum of two hundred and eight dollars for Mrs. Butler's separate use: she had her own lodgings and table, saw as much of her children as I did, and experienced no sort of interference from me. After many
years of patient trial, I had slowly and finally exhausted the cup of hope, and had reached the conviction that to live with her without degradation, perpetual strife, and wretchedness, was an impossibility:
she was absolutely impracticable: kindness did not
win, forbearance did not conciliate, and control was
defied. I now pursued a different course. As she
had voluntarily gone from me, I determined henceforth
to let her follow unchecked her own will in her own
way; I furnished a confessedly ample allowance, and
she was as free and uncontrolled in all her actions as
the wildest spirit could desire.
Having thus accorded to her an independent position, I trusted to secure for myself a greater degree
of peace than I had found it possible to obtain since




119
my union with her; and as I left her entirely to herself, I had reasonable grounds for expecting that she
would cease making it the business and enjoyment of
her life to harass me. My expectations however were
not realized; she was as little satisfied in this condition of things as in any other that preceded it; and
she showed no greater degree of contentment in her
new attitude of unfettered freedom than when cramped
by what she denominated my tyranny. Leagued with
confederates, whose double-dealing I had detected, she
and they spread abroad imputations against me as defamatory as they were unfounded: not only was the
slang of infidelity pertinaciously reiterated, but in
their zeal to injure they did not scruple to accuse me
of conduct of even a more serious character, and to
soil their own lips with calumnies so gross that I cannot here even allude to them. No expedient was left
untried to discover evidence with which to corroborate the charge of infidelity; but, failing in this, they
nevertheless resolved to compel belief by constant
repetition; and, by dint of unwearied efforts, they
succeeded.
During this vile persecution, for it was really nothing less, and when society fairly rang with my
monstrosities of conduct, I remained perfectly quiet;
I did nothing; spoke to no one on the subject, not
even to my relatives or most intimate friends; and, indeed, made no attempt to stem the current of slander
setting so steadily and strongly against me.  This
course was, perhaps, not a prudent one; for by my
silence and their calumnious loquacity my character
was certainly injured, and my social position seriously
affected. Persons who had always been friendly and




120
cordial were now, when met, cold and distant: and
many who knew me well enough to discredit any
thing to my disadvantage were yet unable to vindicate
me against charges so boldly advanced, because I did
not furnish them with the appropriate means: I bore
with patience all the odium heaped upon my shoulders.
Although three lawyers were employed against me, I
took no legal advice whatever, nor did I seek counsel
from a single person: I was silent: my assailant was
my wife, and I was content to bear all the injury she
sought to inflict.
But if I had wished to pursue a different course,
and to defend myself, it would have been hardly possible then to do so, for though aware that serious accusations were disseminated against me, I did not
accurately learn what those accusations were: it is
only since, and from time to time, that they have been
fully disclosed to me. Nor is it ever easy to repel
the assaults of misrepresentation and calumny; however unfounded, they leave impressions which it is
exceedingly difficult, if not impossible, wholly to efface. Slander is too subtle to be followed through
all its tortuous courses; it penetrates into regions
where refutation can never find its way. From the
attacks of an open enemy, an upright man has nothing
to fear; he knows at once their aim and force, and
can disprove them: against such attacks too, one's
previous character and life are a broad shield. But
when his enemy emerges from his own household, and
when his wife, as if driven from her stand at his side,
becomes his assailant, he is powerless. It is so natural to woman to cling to and praise those who belong to her, that if a wife turns accuser against her




121
husband, we easily believe that she has some cause
for doing so; and the ready sympathy that every female, thought to be ill treated, finds in her own sex,
soon secures a host of partisans: those who were
friends before are bound still closer to her; and those
who were indifferent, or perhaps averse, marshal
themselves warmly in her favour, under an instinctive and generous impulse. Mrs. Butler's imaginary
though loudly vented wrongs soon gathered round
her more friends than she had been able to attract
when we were supposed to be living happily together.
It was not only in this country that calumny was
employed to undermine and injure me; it was used in
England also; and the same efforts were there made
to create the impression that my wife had been treated
with harshness and cruelty. I am constrained to say
that those who knew me on the other side of the Atlantic were more candid and impartial than many on
this. Upon hearing the stories, they wrote to me for
explanations, and evinced a desire that I should communicate with them on the subject; for they were not
quite disposed implicitly to adopt all that was said
against me, merely because Mrs. Butler was its author. Many letters passed between us, and I endeavoured to disabuse their minds: I found them not
only considerate and fair, but unwilling to decide
upon a case in which the facts could not be otherwise
than partially represented to them. One or two of
their letters will be enough to insert here; others
will be given in subsequent pages. Mr. Kemble, the
father of Mrs. Butler, addressed me thus:Q




122
"19 South tuld(ley Street, London,
"2d May, 1844.
"My dear Pierce,
" I did not answer your letter by the first mail, in the hope I might
hear that you and Fanny had come to a better understanding; and
now, I have nothing to say but that these unhappy differences make
me very miserable. What can I, what can any body, what ought
any body to say between man and wife? All may see their altered
conduct towards each other; but who shall presume to divine the
causes of that conduct, and to judge between them? Mutual forbearance is the only remedy to be resorted to in such a case: and my
dear friend, by that I hope, in a short time, to hear that your quarrels are ended, and that you are once more living at least on friendly
terms. Think what the consequences of these disputes, if they continue, must be to your dear children: to whom, at this early period
of their lives, a mother's care is so inestimable; and as the greater
power is with you, remember that the greater share of forbearance
should accompany it, and by the exercise of that win back the affections of your wife and with them the approval of all upright men.
*          *          *       " You will be glad to hear that my
health is quite restored, and that I am better than I have been for
years. God bless you, my son, I long to hear that you are reconciled to poor Fanny, and will not renounce the hope of so much
comfort to my declining years.
( Believe me yours, affectionately,
"0 C. KEMBLE."
Mr. Sartoris, the husband of Mrs. Butler's sister,
wrote as follows:"London, December 1st, 1844.
"My dear Pierce,
i*     X       * *_            " Adelaide told me to add that late
circumstances have made it so painful for her to write to you, that




123
she preferred communicating through me. I should not wish you
to think that in so doing, she is actuated by any feeling of resentment; for I feel certain that is not the case; and I hope you will
yourself understand that under the present circumstances writing to
you would be very painful to her, without reference to passing any
judgment on the state of things between yourself and her sister: as
for myself, God knows, I pass none, but content myself with hoping
that a better time may come than the present, for the children's sake,
for Fanny's, and for your own.
" Believe me, yours ever,
" E. J. SARTORIS."
The sentences omitted, where stars appear, in the
above letters of Mr. Kemble and Mr. Sartoris, refer
merely to trifling matters of business, in no way connected with the portions quoted.
I have heretofore stated that on my return from
England, in May, 1843, I took my family to a boarding-house; and I continued to reside at the same place
until, after the lapse of more than a year, a house of
my own was engaged.        On beginning arrangements
for removal, I received a note from Mr. Meredith, one
of Mrs. Butler's professional counsel:" Dear Sir,
" I am desirous of having an interview with you in the course of
to-day, and I will do myself the pleasure of calling on you at any
hour you may name, or will receive you at any time that may suit
you between seven and ten o'clock, this evening.
" Very truly yours,
"W W.    M. MEREDITH.
"PIERCE BUTLER, Esq."                        " May 1, 1844.




124
I called on Mr. Meredith, and was informed by
him  that Mrs. Butler had heard of my intention to
leave my present lodgings, was unwilling to be separated from her children, and had no objection to accompany them to the house I had taken.
He also wished to know where I proposed to pass
the summer. I answered this latter inquiry at once,
and promised to write to him the next day on the former subject. I did so., Dear Sir,
"At your request I inform you that my intention is to move, in the
course of this month, into the house I have taken. About the first
of July I shall go to Newport for two months.
" It has never been a wish of mine to separate my children from
their mother; the partial separation that has existed between them
since November last, has been the consequence of Mrs. Butler's' determination to be separated' from me, as formerly expressed in her
note to me, dated 27th October, 1843.
" You now inform me that it is Mrs. Butler's wish to remain with
her children, and that if I propose to her to accompany them into
the house I have taken, that she will do so. I shall not thwart her
wish, provided she is prepared to conduct herself in such a manner
as an inmate of every family is bound to do.
"Since November last, she has been in the constant practice of
abusing me in the strongest language to every person that would
listen to her; and her most intimate associates have been chosen
from persons who have taken a violent and bitter part against me.
Should she again become a member of my family, and an inmate of
my house, all this must cease.
" In order that she may be under the same roof with her children,
I propose to her to accompany them to the house I have provided
for their home. It is necessary, however, in order to protect my



125
self, and to insure domestic privacy, that certain conditions be annexed to this proposal. These are, that all acquaintance and intercourse, of whatever kind, whether by word or letter, shall, at once,
and for ever, cease between Mrs. Butler and every member of the
Sedgwick family; and that hereafter she shall treat them, in every
respect, as entire strangers, and as if she had never known them.
"( That Mrs. Butler will not keep up an acquaintance with any
person that I may disapprove of; and that, in her future intercourse
with her friends in this country and in England, she will not mention any circumstance which may occur in my house or family; and
that she will, in like manner, cease to speak of me in terms of reprobation and reproach.
" If you will reflect on this, you will perceive that I have stipulated for nothing unusual or unnecessary; but only require what is
absolutely essential to the well-being and right government of every
family.
" If Mrs. Butler considers her duty to her children paramount to
all other considerations, she will have no difficulty in acceding to
this proposal; in which case, I need scarcely say to you, that I will
endeavour to make her residence with her children as comfortable
as it can be, whilst her excited state of feeling against me continues.
" I must beg you to let me have a definite answer to this proposal
within two days; I am making arrangements for going into the
house, which will be modified by Mrs. Butler's determination.
"Yours truly,
" PIERCE BUTLER.
"WM. M. MEREDITH, Esq."                       " May 2, 1844.
I was replied to by the following:"Dear Sir,
" I have to acknowledge the receipt of your note of the second in



126
stant, which I have submitted to Mrs. Butler for her consideration.
She will not accept the conditions which you have named in it.
"Very truly yours,
"W. M. MEREDITH.
" PIERCE BUTLER, Esq."                        " 7May 5, 1844.
After receiving this peremptory rejection of my
proposal, I went on with preparations for a change of
quarters, nor did I hear more from        Mrs. Butler, or
her counsel, for some time.
Let me be pardoned for introducing at this appropriate stage of my statement a letter received from the
Rev. Mr. Furness:"' Dear Sir,
" As your friend, and the friend of Mrs. Butler, will you permit
me to ask whether any friendly offices of mine can be of any use?
I make this request entirely without the knowledge of Mrs. Butler,
and with a repugnance at the idea of interfering, so strong, that only
a most earnest desire to serve you both urges me to overcome it.
The friendly relations that subsisted between your mother and myself embolden me in making an offer of service, which our personal
relations, however friendly, would hardly seem to justify. I feel
deeply the delicacy of the affair, and the impropriety, not to say impossibility of judging justly without the entire confidence and consent
of both parties. Should it be agreeable to you to use my services,
I would be happy to see you at my house, or call upon you at yours.
"With cordial good wishes,
"Your friend,
"W. H. FURNESS.
"Pine street, June 6, 1844.
" PIERCE BUTLER, Esq.'




127
I sent the subjoined answer:"Dear Sir,
" Had I thought it of any use to seek the advice and assistance of
any person in my domestic troubles, I should have turned to you as
the friend most likely to aid me. I have consulted no one, nor do I
believe that good would result from my doing so. My course for the
future is determined on, and I have no expectation that any thing
will occur to alter it. Had Mrs. Butler any reason for her strange
conduct-had she the slightest cause to drive her into her past treatment of me, I could have some hope for the future: I would, in that
case, ask for forgiveness, and I might hope to obtain it from a woman's forgiving nature. But her resentment against me has been so
entirely unprovoked, and her persecution of me so bitter, that I have
no right to expect anything from the future, but a repetition of the
past.
( I solemnly declare that my treatment of her has been just and
kind; and my conscience fully acquits me of any one act towards
her, of which a reasonable woman could justly complain.
"( That you may not be altogether unapprized of my feelings on
this painful subject, and that you may know what bad influences
have been at work to destroy my domestic peace, I send for you to
read copies of two letters, one written a few days ago, the other last
February.
" Consideration for my children, and for the memory of my mother, makes me wish that those who knew her should not rest under
false impressions of my unworthiness, and that they should not believe me capable of many things which have been charged against
me by one, who, under all circumstances, should have been the protector and defender of my character, and not my slanderer and defamer.
" Believe that I appreciate and am grateful to you for the kind intentions with which you have written to me, and should it appear




128
that the counsel of a friend may be of use, I will have no hesitation
in seeking your aid.
"Sincerely and gratefully,
"Your friend,
" PIERCE BUTLER.
"Rev. MR. FUTRNESS."                           " June 7, 1844.
Delays consequent upon building an addition to my
house, retarded my removal to it until the first of
August, 1844. Before effecting that, however, and
while still at the boarding-house, I again heard from
Mr. Meredith:" My dear Sir,
"Mrs. Butler requests me to ascertain whether, in lieu of the conditions proposed by you, you will be satisfied with a promise on her
part, never in any way to any one again to advert to the circumstances of your past life together, never to refer to them by word or
letter to any human being, in short, to bury them utterly. She states
that she is ready to pledge herself thus far for the past, and thinks
she shall be assisted in following the same course for the future, by
having your relations, if you live under the same roof, so well defined and settled, as to leave as little occasion as possible for either
giving, or taking offence. These relations to be arranged only in
reference to her intercourse with her children. Mrs. Butler adds,
that should these proposals be accepted, the present provision for
her maintenance will, she presumes, be done away with; and with
regard to any other arrangement for her expenditure, she is willing
to abide by your will upon the subject.
"I am, dear sir, very truly yours,
6 W. M. MEREDITH.
"PIERCE BUTLER, Esq."                         " June 13, 1844.




129
This proposal appeared so like an attempt to equivocate and trifle with me, that I treated it thus:" Dear Sir,
" There is no' circumstance' or act of my'past life' which I desire' to bury.' The slander and defamation which have been heaped
on me for the past year, have already done me and my children all
the harm that can be done: I care not if they be discontinued, or
still longer indulged in.
" Your note of 5th May was taken as a final answer to my proposal, and I have since taken my measures accordingly. It seems
unnecessary to have any further correspondence on this subject.' I am yours, very truly,
" PIERCE BUTLER.
"W. M. MEREDITH, Esq.                      " June 14, 1844.
Mrs. Butler's proposition, as developed through
Mr. Meredith, amounted in reality to nothing at all.
After having indulged to exhaustion in vituperation
for nearly a year, and done me all the injury in her
power, she was now ready to promise to say nothing
more about " the past::" her poison was administered,
and she was willing to let its work be done without
further effort. But what pledge did she offer for the
future?   " She thinks she shall be assisted in follow"ing the same course for the future, by having your
"relations, if you live under the same roof, so well
"defined and settled, as to leave as little occasion as
"possible for either giving, or taking offence.   These
"relations to be arranged only in reference to her in"tercourse with    her children."     The meaning of
which was simply, that her visits, correspondence,
and intercourse were not to be interfered with: that
R




130
she was to be free, as heretofore, to select her friends
and associates from among my avowed and bitter enemies: that she was to have them congregated, if she
so pleased, in my house: and on her part she "thinks"
she would be able "for the future" to forbear slandering me.    These were the terms suggested by her
in lieu of mine: "terms which appeared to her such
"as might satisfy any reasonable human being."*           I
knew her, and understood them too well to be duped.
Mrs. Butler did not renew her application to reside
under the same roof with her children for more than
four months after I had established        them   in their
new home.     On December 10, 1844, the Rev. Mr.
Furness handed me a communication from her:" I have committed this to the care of our excellent mutual friend,
Mr. Furness, in order that it may reach you in the least distasteful
manner possible; as I do not wish any thing in the mode of my addressing you to interfere with the object I have in view. I am induced by the most serious considerations to make one more endeavour to regain my proper position towards my children. I will lay
my reasons before you, that you may not misapprehend me. My
sister and several of my friends in England, adjure me with the
utmost earnestness, to make another overture to you; believing that
you are accessible to a reasonable one. For their sakes, and to
leave them no doubt as to my course of conduct, and the motives I
am actuated by, I take this step. I am also told by many persons
who have direct and indirect communication with you, that you have
expressed regret at my separation from my children. It is very difficult indeed to ascertain the precise truth of such reports, passed as' Mrs. Butler's "Narraltive," page 6,




131
they are from mouth to mouth, but because I know several people
who are, I believe, as kindly disposed towards you as towards myself, who entertain this opinion, I will not neglect to ascertain if an
impression so favourable to my own wishes be true. My chief inducement, however, in addressing you, and one that makes all other
considerations light, is the conviction that it is my duty to make one
more effort —a most earnest one-to obtain from you the restoration
of my rights over my children. Your own assurance given to Mr.
Gerhard, that I should see my children daily, was infringed at the
very outset by your taking them to Newport, and preventing my
going thither under a threat of keeping them all the summer in town
if I did so. Since their return to Philadelphia, they have both of
them been repeatedly kept from me; and the seven hours a week
which you yourself appointed as my portion of intercourse with my
children, have been curtailed, at your pleasure, until I have not the
slightest reason to reckon upon the arrangement. Within the last
three weeks you have, moreover, deliberately determined that Sarah
is to omit her visit to me regularly once a fortnight; thus not only
accidentally, and for occasional reasons, but of set purpose, and by
your own arrangement-the little intercourse you professed to intend
I should have with my children, is reduced to still less. On the
other hand, although my allotted time with them has been thus sometimes infringed upon, and sometimes altered so as to occasion me
the greatest inconvenience, I have never been able to obtain, though
I once or twice have requested it, that the hour of their visit should
be altered in order to accommodate me; nor have I once been allowed their society on Saturday, their holiday, though I have sent
to request it repeatedly, and though they have been allowed to spend
it indifferently with any friends or acquaintance who invited them,
and occasionally have passed the greater part of their holiday afternoon, in which their society was invariably denied me, in rambling
about with no other guardianship but that of a very young and ignorant Irish servant girl. This miserable and interrupted intercourse




132
with my children, instead of contributing, in any degree, to my comfort or happiness, has, through its dependence upon your will, become a source of constant suffering, disappointment and bitterness
to me; and though I would endure all the pain that such wretched
communion with my children gives me, if they were to derive the
slightest benefit from it, I am so perfectly convinced that no good
accrues to them from my unfortunate position, and the sad and
meagre seasons of intercourse with me allowed them, that an effort
to render our relations more what they should be, is as much to be
made for their sakes as mine.  **                         I
have known that this must hereafter be the case; and indeed have
hoped to receive from my child's sense of right some reward in future years for all the bitterness I have endured for her sake; yet I
have ever scrupulously forborne to mention your name to her otherwise than with the respect which I hope you may be able to inspire
her with. But independently of all these sad causes for thinking it
expedient to alter my present position, there is a more serious one
still, which, embracing the highest welfare of my child, affects me
more than any mere consideration of the sadness of the lot of these
young creatures-girls-deprived of the care of a mother, which, I
believe, no one has ever yet thought of considering second in efficiency to that of any possible substitute.  *  * 
These are my motives for again addressing you. I will now propose to you a mode of remedying these evils, which I most sincerely
hope you will consent to, and for which, failing your acceding to my
proposal, I must seek others infinitely to be deprecated. I earnestly
request and entreat you to permit me admission to the home of my
children upon the following understanding: an entire abstinence on
my part from all reference to the past, an engagement that I will
publish nothing without your consent, and that I will neither write
nor speak of you to any one soever while I remain under your roof;
and will hold you of course at liberty to pursue your own career
without comment or interference of mine. Moreover, I presume, I




133
need not add that I do not expect to see or receive in your house
any person or persons who may be obnoxious to you. As I make
this last appeal to you from the most imperative sense of duty, and
upon the most mature consideration, I solemnly assure you that I
will keep these conditions, not only to the letter, but in the spirit
of peace and rectitude. My children and my obligations to them
constrain me to this measure, and for their sakes I adjure you to
receive my proposal."
The suppressions indicated by asterisks, in the
above letter, are observations concerning my children.   Mrs. Butler thought it proper to omit these
from   her printed   "Narrative," and, therefore, they
are not here reinstated.
As I invariably refused to hold direct communication with Mrs. Butler during this period of absence
from her family, my answer to the foregoing was
made to the Rev. Mr. Furness:"Dear Sir,
"' The communication that Mrs. Butler has thought proper to address to me, and which was delivered to me by yourself, contains the
expression of a seemingly sincere desire to resume her duty to her
children; a duty that she deliberately abandoned fourteen months
ago, and which she has entirely neglected during the whole of the
subsequent time. Seven months ago I wrote to Mr. Meredith, and
named the conditions on which Mrs. Butler was free to become again
an inmate of my family; she then rejected them without hesitation,
and now proposes other terms. I can find no reason for any change
in the conditions stated to Mr. Meredith; and if Mrs. Butler be sincere in her desire to live with her children, she can have no hesitation in agreeing to them.
" The causes which existed at that time to oblige me to stipulate




134
such terms, are still in force; and it would not be possible for Mrs.
Butler to live in my house, without the most rigid observance of
those terms. If she determine to accede to them, I will endeavour
to make such changes in the arrangement of the household, as will
enable her to live in the family. She must bear in mind, however,
that in consequence of her desertion of the children, I have been
obliged for a year past to assume the entire direction of them, and
that the arrangements I have made for their studies and education,
must in no way be interfered with.
"It would be well for Mrs. Butler to refer to the letter addressed
to Mr. Meredith, and again to weigh the precise terms proposed in
it; she will find that I require her to renounce' at once and for
ever,' all communication with those low-bred, vulgar meddlers, the
Sedgwicks.
"' I should be glad to know her determination without delay, as a
state of uncertainty on the subject is by no means agreeable.
" Yours, very sincerely,
PIERCE BUTLER.
"Rev. WM. H. FURNESS."                        ",Dec. 13, 1844.
The very next day came the following note:"Dear Sir,
"6 I handed your letter to Mrs. Butler, and she requests me to inform you that the step proposed to her in going into your house upon
such terms is so serious and important that she must decline giving
a positive answer upon the subject for two or three days at least,
such a determination requiring the utmost consideration.
" Very truly, your friend,
" W. H. FURNESS.
"Dec. 14, 1844."




135
I was, I must confess, greatly surprised, and immediately addressed Mr. Furness:" Saturday evening, Dec. 14, 1844.
" Dear Sir,
"Your note of this evening has caused a painful change in the
feeling produced by Mrs. Butler's letter. I believed her sincere
when she wrote:'I earnestly request and entreat you to permit me'admission to the home of my children;' and again:' As I make this'last appeal to you from the most imperative sense of duty, and upon' the most mature consideration, I solemnly assure you that I will keep'these conditions, not only to the letter, but in the spirit of peace and'rectitude; my children and my obligations to them constrain me to'this measure, and for their sake I adjure you to receive my proposal.'
I was full of hope. The home of my children seemed already
brighter and happier for them, for I thought it was again to be blessed by a mother's presence and care. I hoped that better feelings actuated Mrs. Butler; that she was resolved to repress her enmity to
me, and to make her own prejudices yield to her children's good.
Her desire to be with her children seemed as real as it was natural.
What can I think now? She has had seven months to consider the
terms of my proposal, and she still requires more time. You have
repeatedly assured me that she was ready to come into my house
upon the conditions required of her. She herself asks permission
to come into it; and when she is told she is free to come, she draws
back, and says she must consider about it. Is this sincere?  She
abandons the most solemn of earthly duties-she separates herself
from her children for no cause but hate of their father-for more
than a year she leaves them motherless-and then speaks of her return to this sacred duty as'a determination requiring the utmost
consideration;' a step' so serious and important that she must decline giving a positive answer for two or three days at least.' The
deepest obligations of life are in a moment violated by her; but she




136
requires time and consideration to make up her mind to resume those
obligations, and to return to her neglected children. What did she
mean by her letter?-What by her' appeal' to me,' made from the
most imperative sense of duty, and upon the most mature consideration?' Did she expect me to reject her prayer, and thus afford her a
pretext to cast fresh odium upon me?  To say, 6 he shuts his doors
against me, and denies me shelter under the same roof with my children?' Indeed, her conduct at present looks very much as if such was
her design. She has deceived you by telling you that she could consent
to any condition rather than be separated from her children. Why
does she not instantly consent?  I impose no new conditions-nothing but what she has already declared she was ready to assent to.
She has led you to believe that her objection to the conditions imposed last spring, and then rejected, was not now the obstacle that
kept her from her children, but that my will was the cause of it; in
short, that the separation did not depend upon her, but upon me;
that my doors were shut against her because she had not yielded her
assent within the specified time. Why, then, does she hesitate to
accept the same proposal which is now renewed, and treat it as if it
contained fresh stipulations, too burdensome to be agreed to without
the utmost consideration?  Does this accord with her professions?
Is it not an attempt to fix upon me the stigma of cruelly separating
her from her children?
" That which I received as sincere in her letter, does not appear
so any longer. She may take as many days as she chooses, to consider if it be right to return to her duty as a mother; but I shall receive her into my house with far different feelings from those I was
prepared to entertain if she had not hesitated about coming. I must
believe any resolution she may now come to, to return and live with
her children, will be made for expediency, and not solely from a sincere desire to be with them.
Yours, very sincerely,
" PIERCE BUTLER.
"Rev. WM. H. FURNESS."




137
In order to cloak and excuse this reluctance to live
in the house with her children, if obliged to observe
becoming rules of domestic conduct, she pretends that
I had imposed "new conditions," which were "a
"grievous increase of the hardship of the former
"terms."*  And she adds, " he professed to assent to
"my proposal upon the conditions he had formerly
"proposed to me,.... but he really added to his
"former terms, that I should in no way participate
"in the care, or control, or management of my chil"dren, if I came into his house."t  This is an obvious perversion of a passage in my letter; the words
are:-" She must bear in mind, however, that in con-'sequence of her desertion of the children, I have
"been obliged for a year past to assume the entire
"direction of them, and that the arrangements I have' made for their studies and education, must in no way
"be interfered with."t
The sentence is not liable to the interpretation she
endeavours to impute to it: in fact, there was no such
stipulation at all insisted upon; for in the draft of
conditions prescribed by me, and to which she put her
signature, the children are not even mentioned; and
the terms were precisely those contained in my letter
of May 2, 1844, to Mr. Meredith, which she at that
date promptly and flatly rejected.~
Mr. Furness replied to my letter:" Dear Sir,
" In reply to your note just received, I will merely state my own
conviction that if, when Mrs. Butler's letter produced so happy an
M Mrs. Butler's  Nacrrative," p. 11.  t Idem, pp. 8, 9.
T See page 134.                    ~ See page 124.
S




138
impression upon you, you had met it in its own spirit, and replied,
4 Come, come upon the conditions you propose, and I will rely upon
the promise you so solemnly make to keep them,' there would have
been, I apprehend, no hesitation, not the slightest delay. But in referring her back to the letter to Mr. Meredith, you proposed other
conditions, conditions which she might indeed promise to observe,
and try to observe to the letter, but in the possibility of observing
them in the spirit, she has no belief. In all that she offers to do,
she is, I believe, thoroughly sincere. Besides, your letter to me in
answer to her letter to you produced even on my mind the painful
impression that her letter had not had the slightest effect upon you.
"Your friend,
" W. H. FURNESS.
" P. BUTLER, Esq."                           "Dec. 16, 1844.
It was quite natural that Mr. Furness, or any one
else, ignorant of my previous and various experiments,
should think me too rigid in exacting these conditions;
and his remarks in no respect surprised me; but had
he known a tithe of the disappointed hopes and broken
pledges to which I had already been subjected, he
would scarcely have expected me even to affect reliance on Mrs. Butler's good faith, or simple promises.
Two days elapsed, and Mr. Furness transmitted to
me the following letter from    Mrs. Butler:"Dec. 18, 1844.
" Dear Mr. Furness,
"Will you be good enough to inform Mr. Butler that I hold myself
in readiness to profit by his permission of living with my children at
his convenience. The terms he imposes upon me I will keep to the
best of my ability while I reside under his roof. At the same time,
I must deny utterly the charge of hatred which Mr. Butler brings




139
against me, inasmuch as I have no such feeling towards any human
being; and also enter my solemn protest against the accusation of
having deserted my children, to preserve my proper relation with
whom has always been my most earnest desire and endeavour.
" I am yours ever, truly,
"FANNY."
And I immediately wrote him:" Dear Sir,
" Mrs. Butler having at length concluded to return to her children,
I shall lose no time in making the necessary arrangements for her
coming into the house. There are some questions of minor importance, but yet of consequence, about which I should like to speak
with you, in order to have a clear understanding on the subject. If
you will do me the favour to call here, at any time convenient to
yourself, I shall feel much obliged to you.
"Yours, very sincerely,
"' PIERCE BUTLER.
" Rev. WM. H. FURNESS."                     "Dec. 18, 1844.
There are, no doubt, many persons who entertain
the opinion that the conditions imposed as preliminary
to Mrs. Butler's resuming a place in my habitation
were unnecessarily restrictive and harsh; but I beg it
may be borne in mind under what circumstances I
acted.   I had long essayed every art and means of
conciliation: the love I bore her I once thought could
cease only at death: it struggled long against the bitter overthrow of every hope and vision of happiness;
and I would cheerfully have sacrificed fortune, or life
itself, to awaken one feeling in her heart which might
lead her to contemplate truly and avert the sad waste




140
she was making of existence, and of all its precious
opportunities and uses. But at length she fairly wore
out, crushed, and extinguished my affection: the blessings by which we might have remained surrounded
were first embittered and finally blasted: all was at an
end between us: there was no desire on the part of
either to be reunited; that indeed was impossible, for
no trace of attachment lingered in the breast of either;
we were no longer one; not even formal friends; she
had become my calumniator, and exulted over the victim of her envenomed slander.
These conditions, then, were not dictated to a wife,
for she had thrown away that exalted character; they
were necessary to self-protection; to secure, if possible, the dignity and privacy of home; to entrench
domestic scenes and incidents from the misrepresentation and obloquy to which Mrs. Butler, in her eagerness to confirm the prejudices of others against me,
had never hesitated to resort. I must confess I could
devise no plan for these purposes more moderate or
more efficient, after what I had already undergone,
than that of exacting absolute silence upon such topics.
With respect to the requirement, that she should
"not keep up an acquaintance with any person of
whom I might disapprove," it had, as was mutually
known, application only to the Sedgwick family, and
to one other person, from intercourse with whom she,
of her own accord, has since abstained. Her admirers
in this city are, as they have given me reason to discern, made strongly averse to myself by impressions
derived from her; but, as they never interfered improperly with my private relations or affairs, I entertain




141
towards them    no unkind feeling whatever, and could
never have the least desire other than to sanction and
encourage their free and frequent visits at my house
while she was there.     Still, as it was impossible to
foresee to what new allies she might extend her confidence, and how far they might prove intrusive and
objectionable, I thought it safer and less invidious at
once to make the provision general.
I considered these rules, indeed, more in the light
of a reasonable and decorous compromise, which, for
the sake of our children, would make it possible for
us to live in the same house, and to maintain, if not
entirely harmonious, at least decent and pacific relations.  It is quite certain, from    letters now in my
possession, that these conditions were not regarded
by some of Mrs. Butler's family and friends in England as either uncalled for or too stringent.    In support of this assertion, I adduce one or two of these
letters.
" London, Feb. 4, 1845.
"My dear Pierce,' Your last letter afforded us great satisfaction: it gave us great
joy to know that Fanny was once more under the same roof with
her children: however much-and nobody will admit the fact more
readily than myself-she may have drawn misfortune on her own
shoulders by the rashness of her proceedings, the penalty was so
severe that we could not help feeling the greatest sympathy for her
unfortunate position: and I earnestly hope that nothing will occur to
alter her present situation, so much the most advantageous for your
children, and so much the most respectable for all parties. Against
your conditions I confess I have nothing to urge. Total separation
from the Sedgwicks was, I agree with you, indispensable. I have




142
never ceased to lament Fanny's connexion with people, who, in my
opinion, have always given her the very worst possible advice; and
I think the other condition required nothing but what every woman
is bound to do in order to preserve peace and quiet in her interior.
At the same time, I earnestly hope that for the sake of continuing
the present desirable state of things, you will endeavour to promote
her comfort as much as possible, and especially allow her a fair share
in the general care and education of her children: this is a right,
which, with all her errors, she has done nothing to forfeit, and I entreat you to recollect that in depriving her of, or unnecessarily interfering with, the exercise of that right, you would almost entirely
counterbalance the good you have done by allowing her to live in the
house: you would thereby awaken her sense of justice, which forms
such a strong feature of her character, and you would remove the
natural vent from a mind already so restlessly active. She has generosity among her good qualities, and I believe the appearance of a
certain confidence reposed in her would do more towards softening
her disposition, than severity and control, which only serve to irritate her. After all, in this world we must cut our cloth, 4'c., and
mothers have feelings with regard to the children of their womb,
which we men are hardly able to realize, as you say in America;
add to that such a character as Fanny's, and how unwise and unfair
it would be to wound her in this most sensitive point.
" I know Charles Greville has written you by this post, and as I am
sure he will have said all that cal be said upon the subject, much
better than I possibly can do, I will spare you any further eloquence
of mine.
"You had much better all come over here next Spring.
6 Believe me, ever,
"Your sincere friend and well-wisher,
" E. J. SARTORIS."




143
In the letter mentioned by Mr. Sartoris, as having
been written to me by Mr. Charles Greville, that gentleman says, " I do think it impossible to revive feel"ings, which have been so wounded and crushed, but
"there is no reason why you should not live together
"as friends, and cultivate relations sufficient for all
" social purposes, and for the welfare of the children.
"As to the terms you presented, I think you did very
"wisely, and I rejoice that she at last agreed to ac"cept them."*
Some time having elapsed after Mrs. Butler had
signified her readiness to    rejoin her children, Mr.
Furness, at her request, inquired by note when her
rooms would be ready.      I replied by the following:" Dear Sir,
"(I beg you to excuse me for not sooner replying to your letter. I
have been much annoyed at the delay in the arrangements of the
house, as it might seem to be intentional; such, however, is not the
case, for I am most desirous to have my family in a more settled
state than it is at present. The cause of the delay is simply this.
When I came into this house, nothing more was done to it in the
way of painting, papering, and furnishing, than was absolutely necessary at the time. It was not until I set about putting it in order for
Mrs. Butler's reception that I was aware how little had been done,
and how much yet remained to be done. Furnishing a house, or
even half of one, is not the work of a day, and more time has passed
since we first spoke together upon the subject, than, at that time, I
could have supposed possible. I regret that I cannot, for yet a few
days, inform you of the precise time when Mrs. Butler's rooms will
* Mr. Greville's letter is dated London, February 1, 1845.




144
be ready for her: I will do so as soon as I can ascertain it with certainty. Her allowance for the present month shall be sent in the
course of two or three days. It will be necessary to add a servant
to my present number, after Mrs. Butler comes to reside here, whose
exclusive duty will be to attend upon her. If the person at present
in Mrs. Butler's employ is agreeable to her, I will engage her, or
any other one she may prefer. Will you be good enough to ascertain this for me.
"Yours, very sincerely,
" PIERCE BUTLER.
" Rev. Mr. FURNESS.           "          "February 6, 1845.
In the course of a few days I was enabled to write
to Mr. Furness again, and more definitively:" Dear Sir,
"' Mrs. Butler's rooms will be ready for her on Monday, March
3d, on which day she can take up her residence in my house.
"' =Will you be so good as to obtain an answer to my inquiry respecting the woman now in her service.
" Mrs. Butler's allowance for the present month, has been sent to
her, through the usual channel.
" Yours, sincerely,
" PIERCE BUTLER.
"Rev. Mr. FURNESS."                      "February 19, 1845,
From the period of our practical disunion Mrs.
Butler had been paid her promised monthly allowance of two hundred and eight dollars; but of course
the continuance of that amount, after she came to reside in my house, and thereby ceased to have any but
mere personal expenses, while all of mine were necessarily much augmented, was entirely out of the ques



145
tion; I had, therefore, apprized her through Mr. Furness, that in future she would receive two hundred
dollars a quarter.     In reference to this Mr. Furness
and I interchanged notes.
"February 19, 1845.
"Dear Sir,
" Mrs. Butler wishes to keep her present maid servant. She desires also to know what expenses her allowance ($800) is understood
by you to be intended to cover, that is to say, is it merely for her
clothes, or for all her personal and incidental expenses.  She likewise desires to be informed through whom she is to receive her allowance in future. Will it not be well to have this all understood beforehand? And will you please to send me a word or two, as soon
as may be, stating your understanding of these things?
"Your friend,
" W. H. FURNESS.
" PIERCE BUTLER, Esq."
" Walnut Street, 21 February, 1845.
Dear Sir,
" The sum of eight hundred dollars is intended to cover all Mrs.
Butler's personal and incidental expenses. Before I fixed that sum,
I made some inquiries, which induce me to believe that no married
lady in the city spends a like amount, taking one year with another.
I therefore deem it ample. She shall receive the money directly
from myself every month. While Mrs. Butler was living apart from
me, on a separate maintenance, I did not consider her a member of
my family, and therefore would hold no direct communication with
her; when she comes to reside under my roof, the case will be entirely altered; she will then be one of the family. In order to protect myself and to insure domestic privacy, I have required that Mrs.
Butler shall not mention any circumstance which may occur in my
T




146
house or family; I shall myself, in the most careful manner, observe
the same rule; and shall take care that it be observed by every person residing under my roof.
"I require also, that Mrs. Butler shall not speak of me; neither
will I mention her name to any one; any communication that I may
have to make to her, shall be made in writing, and shall be addressed to herself. Under no circumstance will I allow the intervention of a third person in any matter between us, after she enters
my family.
" In accordance with your suggestion, that it will be well to have
every thing understood beforehand, I enclose a paper, which Mrs.
Butler can copy and sign; she can then send me the one in her own
handwriting, and keep the one now sent for her own reference. I
deem this necessary; for, although my letters have been perfectly
explicit on the subject of Mrs. Butler's application to reside in my
house, hers have not been so clear; the only letter from her, in
which there is any intention expressed of complying with the required conditions, is far from being explicit; but, as I understood
her to promise full compliance with the conditions I have named, she
can have no hesitation in saying so, in language which does not admit
of misinterpretation. I have therefore written out the understood
conditions, to which I must request her signature, in order to prevent
as far as possible any future misunderstanding.
"Yours, sincerely,
6 PIERCE BUTLER.
"Rev. Mr. FURNEss."
The following is the paper alluded to, which was
submitted for her signature:" Being about to reside in Mr. Butler's house, I promise to observe the following conditions while living under his roof:" I will give up all acquaintance and intercourse of whatever kind,




147
whether by word or letter, with every member of the Sedgwick
family, and hereafter I will treat them in every respect as entire
strangers, and as if I had never known them.
" I will not keep up an acquaintance with any person, of whom
Mr. Butler may disapprove.
" I will observe an entire abstinence from all reference to the past;
neither will I mention to any person any circumstance which may
occur in Mr. Butler's house or family.
" I will neither write nor speak of Mr. Butler to any one while I
remain under his roof. I will also conform to the arrangements of
his house, as I shall find them on entering it; and I promise, if I
find myself unable to fulfil any of the aforesaid conditions, immediately to give notice to Mr. Butler of my inability to do so, and to
leave his house."
It will be seen that these terms are precisely those
originally proposed     through   Mr. Meredith, and by
which   Mrs. Butler had, with a clear comprehension
of their scope and cause, pledged herself to abide. I
was, therefore, somewhat at a loss to conjecture her
design and motive in withholding her signature, and
in resorting to a frivolous quibble as an excuse.;" Monday, Feb. 24.
" My dear Sir,
" Will you oblige me by informing Mr. Butler that as I have acceded to, and am prepared to comply with the terms which he proposed to me through Mr. Meredith, last May, and to which he refers
in his letters to you (of which I presume he has a copy), as the only
ones upon which he will permit me to live with my children, I must
beg to decline signing any document or contract, which, if it contain




148
new conditions, I cannot comply with, and if it does not, is unnecessary,
"I am, my dear Sir,
"Yours, very truly,
"FANNY BUTLER,
" Rev. MR. FuRNESS.'"
"Dear Sir,
" In my letter to you of the 21st instant, I stated a sufficient reason for wishing Mrs. Butler to sign the conditions; it was, that her
compliance with them had not been expressed in explicit language.
It was partly in consequence of your own suggestion, that I drew
out the conditions in simple form, for her to copy and sign. In doing so, I inserted nothing new; on the contrary, I copied the very
words in which the conditions had been expressed. Mrs. Butler
now refuses to sign them; for she will not comply with any new
conditions; and she thinks it unnecessary to sign those, which she
has already acceded to. To her, this may seem a sufficient reason
for wishing to avoid a compliance in positive and unmistakable terms;
for me it is not sufficient. Mrs. Butler has given me little reason to
place any reliance upon either her good feelings, or her good faith
towards me; and, in admitting her into my house, I can perceive no
security for myself against her violating, as heretofore, all the proprieties of domestic life, unless she is bound by positive terms, to
which a consequence is attached. Her letter has added strength to
this opinion; for there is a plain design to observe only the words
of the conditions, and not their spirit. I therefore require, before
she comes here, that she shall copy and sign the paper I have sent.
"Yours, sincerely,
" PIERCE BUTLER.
"T Walnut street, Feb. 25, 1845.
"Rev. MR. FuRNESS.'S




149
Upon this Mrs. Butler signed the paper, taking care,
however, to preface it with a sort of precautionary
protest:-,, In order to remain near my children, and retain as far as possible the rights of a mother over them, I agreed fully and unconditionally, to certain terms which Mr. Butler referred to, and insisted on,
in a letter to Mr. Furness, of December 13, 1844. Mr. Butler now
demands that I should copy and sign the following agreement, stating that he considers it to contain and signify nothing new or in any
way different from the former one; with which understanding, I proceed to copy and sign it."
Accordingly she once more returned as a resident
to my habitation on March 3, 1845.




DE S ER T ION.
I HAD made such careful and commodious arrangements for the accommodation of Mrs. Butler, as almost persuaded me to hope that her stay would be
permanent, and that thenceforward a becoming tranquillity at least would mark our unhappy relations.
She had her own apartments, and her own servant: we
met but once each day, at the dinner table, with our
two children; and then none but unavoidable verbal
communications passed between us. She was free to
come and go as she pleased; received visits at all hours
without my knowing or caring who made them; gave
social parties when she liked; and, in fact, I scrupulously forbore doing anything to re-excite discord or
engender trouble. But her captious and uncontrolled
temper would neither rest itself, nor permit me to
rest: her propensity to rebuke, to find fault, and to
exasperate her own discontent, soon rekindled. I had
thought it most in the interest of domestic peace that
all our communications, except those at meals, should
take the form and formality of writing, and lo! there
was scarcely an occurrence or circumstance which
could possibly be worked up into a pretext for dissatis



151
faction, that she did not, with her usual tact and talent,
spread forth in epistolary complaint.     A trivial incident, to which families with young children are daily
liable, formed the burden of an elaborate letter shortly
after she entered the house.   As the nurse one morning was attending to the children, the younger of the
two, happening to be out of humour, sulkily resisted
being dressed; the nurse asked the governess, whose
room adjoined, to speak to her: this, however, only
increased the child's passion, and, becoming fractious,
she struck the governess, who then gave her a smart
slap. As I had strictly prohibited corporal punishment under any circumstances, the governess thought
it necessary immediately to report the occurrence,
stating that the slap was given as the only means of
producing an impression and allaying her paroxysm
of temper.   I repeated my injunction never again to
do the like to either of the children, and to my certain knowledge this was the solitary occasion. The
next day Mrs. Butler sent me the following:" I am very desirous not to create any difficulties in the house, or
interfere in any way with the arrangements you have seen fit to
make. A circumstance occurred, however, yesterday morning, which,
after due deliberation, I think it best to inform you of. I was waked
in the morning by the screams of my youngest child, and on going
up to the nursery in some alarm found that she had conducted herself ill, and that Miss Hall had whipped her. You may perhaps
remember that only once did I ever lift a hand on either of the children, and then I told you my determination never to do so again.
You do not, I am very sure, resort to any such mode of enforcing
your will, and I trust you will so far admit and uphold my right over
my children, as not to permit, while I am under the same roof with




152
them, that any one should adopt a mode of controlling them which
neither I, nor, I presume, yourself, approve of, or ever have recourse
to.'"
On getting this, I interrogated the nurse about the
matter, and again spoke to the governess: both assured me that but one slap had been inflicted..This
was magnified by Mrs. Butler into a " whipping," and
the inference invoked was that "the screams" which
drew her to the nursery in "alarm" were produced
by that rude treatment; whereas, in reality, they were
mere outbursts of childish vexation, to which the single slap put an end.    I answered her note thus:-' March 20, 1845.
" The occurrence of yesterday morning had been correctly reported to me. I do not approve of striking children, and will not of
course permit it with my own. It cannot, with any degree of correctness, be termed'a whipping' that the child received; she refused to obey either the nurse or governess, and would not allow herself to be dressed; she was slapped once, which caused her to submit.
It shall not be repeated."
Soon came another murmuring missive: it required
no answer, but contained one sentence liable to misconstruction, and which exacted a notice from me:-',.pril 10, 1845.
", There is a part of your letter which it is necessary to have explained. You write thus — a state of things which permits my
children's governess to say that she will have my maid discharged.'
I request to know upon whose authority you state this."




153
She replied:-,,The children's nurse told Biddy about a week ago that Miss
Hall had said to her, that she would have my maid discharged. The
latter informed me of this, expressing at the same time her hope that
she should not lose her situation, without in any way having deserved to do so."
Having made the proper scrutiny and satisfied myself that this assertion was untrue, I answered:" SJpril 11, 1845.
6 The nurse denies positively having said any such thing to Biddy
as you report; and moreover says, that the governess never said to
her that she would have your maid discharged, or any thing at all
like it. It would be well not to make the tales and tattle of servants the subject of your letters to me."
A casual circumstance, of which Mrs. Butler makes
much dexterous use in her "Narrative," occurred
about this time. It will bear, I admit, the ingenious
construction   she has placed upon it, but that construction is, nevertheless, neither true nor just.     It
was this.   After she had rejoined the household a little over a month, there came enclosed to re a letter for
her, which I at once saw by the exterior handwriting
to be from   a Sedgwick.     After all that had passed,
any attempt to open a correspondence could be regarded no otherwise than as an impertinent intrusion;
and entertaining no doubt but that Mrs. Butler would
view it in the same light, would instantly appreciate
the motive of delicacy which forbade my detaining
what was addressed to her, would decline opening it,
u




154
and would either return it to me, or send it back to
the writer, I enclosed it to her without remark.     She
did not do, however, as I had anticipated, but read
and kept the letter: whether she answered it or not,
is unknown to me.      I did not wonder at an effort of
the Sedgwicks to open a means of ascertaining the
events of my household: that was in character: but
I felt real surprise that Mrs. Butler, having bound
herself so recently and explicitly to " give up all ac" quaintance and intercourse of whatever kind, whether
" by word or letter, with every member of the family,"
should, under any circumstances, countenance that
effort.  Irritated at what struck me to be in violation
of a positive promise, and ignorant to what extent it
would be carried, I wrote to her:
" You have lived in this house a little over a month, and you have
already violated the principal condition which you bound yourself to
observe, while living under my roof. I will hold no intercourse with
a person so utterly wanting in truth and good faith, and therefore request you to address no more notes to me.
"' pril 12th, 1845."'
To which she replied:
"I have not the least understanding of what you mean. If you
refer to the letter which I received through your intermission yesterday, all I can say is that I was as much surprised as you could possibly be at the circumstance of its being sent hither, and I opened it
only because enclosed to me by you, which otherwise I should certainly not have done.
"If this is not what you refer to, I know not what you mean, and
utterly deny the charge of having broken any part of the bond you
made me sign."




155
I answered thus:"Before you came into this house you should have informed the
Sedgwicks of the conditions to which you had bound yourself, and
warned them to write to you no more; it is probable that you did so,
but being vulgar and obtrusive people, they are attempting to persevere in their officious meddling in my domestic concerns. You
were bound by your obligation to return unread and in a blank cover,
any letter which you knew to come from them.
" Your doing so by their first letter, might prevent a repetition of
such indelicate conduct, and save my house from being infested by
their correspondence. Your not doing so, is a direct encouragement
to them to persevere; and your reading and detaining their letter, is
a violation of all truth and honour on your part.
6' dpril 12th, 1845."
Of this transaction she says,' As one of the clauses
"of my contract of sojourn was, that I should forego
"all intercourse with every member of this family, I
"was much surprised at receiving this enclosure from
"the libellant; but I supposed he had some special
" motive for sending it to me, and as we exchanged no
"communication other than written, this appeared to
4' me to indicate that he chose me to receive the let"'ter, and I accordingly opened and read it. I im"mediately, however, perceived my mistake on receiving the following note from the libellant."     She
then inserts my first note of April 12, and adds, "I
felt myself completely caught in a trap."*
I willingly concede that she acted under the impression alleged by herself, that "' she supposed I had
Mrs. Butler's " Narrative" p. 14.




156' some special motive for sending the letter to her,/
that my doing so " appeared to her to indicate that I
"chose her to receive it," and on reflection I acquit
her in this instance of that breach of truth and honour
which I hastily imputed. Nothing, however, can be
more absurd or unfounded than to predicate, of the
mere forbearance to detain or destroy the letter, any
design on my part to set " a trap."  Both of us acted
under misapprehension of motives: and when I wrote
those two notes it had not occurred to me, as is now
apparent, that my enclosing and sending the letter to
her might readily be thought to involve my consent
to her receiving it.
Notwithstanding all the precautions I had taken,
the privacy of my household continued, in some way
or other, and by the agency of some one, subject to
the surveillance and animadversion of others. Nothing
could shelter it from the perseverance of curiosity or
the perversion of scandal. Who it was that took
pleasure in this meddlesome and miserable pursuit, I
am unwilling to conjecture  but certain it is that I
received letters from friends of Mrs. Butler in England, which proved how futile my arrangements had
been, and how liable as ever to distortion and slander
were the simplest features of my domestic life. A
portion of my own part in this correspondence will
serve to exhibit this petty and dishonourable warfare
upon my peace. The first letter is to a lady, a friend
of Mrs. Butler, and also, as I believed, a friend of
mine.




157
6 Philadelphia, June 29, 1845,
6' My dear Mirs. Mackintosh,
" There are two reasons which will prevent me from taking offence at your last two letters, first, because I cannot suppose you intended to offend me, and also because I think you cannot be sensible
of the extraordinary manner in which you have written to me. I
write to you now that you may know your letters have been received, to answer them is impossible, for I do not understand them.
Who have been troubling themselves to write to you about my domestic affairs, I know not, neither can I tell, from the tenor of your
letter, what they have written; that falsehood has been written is
evident. Does it never occur to you that it is somewhat unwise and
useless, for a third person to attempt to regulate the affairs of a husband and wife, who do not agree together? And does it not strike
you that no person can be very capable of regulating the details of
another's family at a distance of three thousand miles? You have
no doubt relied upon the information you received, but it would have
been well first to ascertain if it were correct, coming as it must from
some person not a member of my family. You accuse me of unfair
dealing, and want of confidence and openness; you say that I constrain Fanny, and do not give her the life of a gentlewoman, and
that I make her position in my house that of an inferior; you tell
me to give her her meals in her own room, and to discharge the governess of my children. This last act you charge me to perform
for my children's sake, and for my own comfort and respectability;
and you entreat me, if I have any wish that Fanny should remain in
my house, to take some measures for appointing a successor to Miss
Hall. You consider her presence an insult to Fanny, and you do
not believe that our present life can, or ought to go on while she remains. If you believe all you have charged against me, I wonder
you would write to me: if it be true, it is proof that I have laid
aside the character and feelings of a gentleman, and it becomes a
question if those qualities ever belonged to me. Why have you




158
written to me?  Can you hope to influence the conduct of a man
who seeks to degrade the mother of his children in the eyes of those
children? And will you hold intercourse of any sort with one who
admits his wife into his house only for the purpose of insulting her?
Can there be one good feeling left to such a man which you hope to
act upon? All these things you deliberately charge against me;
and I find it not very pleasant to learn the estimation in which you
hold me. To whom I am indebted for painting my character in
such colours, I am at a loss to conceive; the conception is worthy
the mind of a Sedgwick.
" As I do not know what has been written to you I cannot answer
your objections as to the governess. If you will tell me exactly
what has been told you-and I think you are bound to do so-I will
reply to you. But why should she not continue with the children?
And how is her presence an insult to Fanny? What is her offence?
I presume that some kind friend of mine has given you the information upon which you found your charges, but until you communicate
it to me I am unable to reply.
" Believe me,
"Very sincerely, your friend,
6 PIERCE BUTLER."
The following went at the same time to Mrs. Sartoris, the sister of Mrs. Butler:" Philadelphia, June 29, 1845.
64 My dear Adelaide,
"Your last letter is quite incomprehensible to me, and I am unable to reply to it. It is not of the most agreeable character, but as
you assure me that you write in the spirit of real friendship, I send
this acknowledgment of its receipt. It was well you put in that assurance, else I should have supposed you wrote in quite a different
spirit. Here are some of the things you say:-' Let me entreat you




159
6 to modify that most unjust and intolerable arrangement by which
6 Miss Hall (a hired instructress) supersedes my sister in her right' and control over her children. No woman would bear such an in-'tolerable insult as this. From the moment my sister returned to'take her proper place, Miss Hall ought to have been dismissed at
once.9' I must say that this,' &c. &c.
"6 I beseech you to alter this dreadful state of things, as much for
6your and your children's sakes as for that of my sister.'
" These are some of the pleasant things you say; I quote them
because you may have forgotten the tenor of your letter, as you say
you were greatly hurried when you wrote. When Fanny came to
live here I thought and hoped I was to have something like peace in
my family, and domestic privacy; which of my kind friends has
given you the reliable information upon which you found these
charges, I do not know; nor do I know what has been told you.
However, if you will tell me-as you are bound to do-what you
have heard, and from whom it comes, I will reply to it. I will also
tell you whether it is true, or not; which point you do not appear to
have given yourself the trouble to ascertain. There has been such
a shameful system of falsehood carried on with regard to my affairs,
that it is really unendurable: vague insinuations I cannot reply to,
but only let me know distinctly what you have heard, and I will answer you truly and fully.
" Yours, ever affectionately,
" PIERCE BUTLER."
Both ladies replied to my letters, but neither of
them  told me from whom       had proceeded the vile calumnies which obviously impelled their remonstrances.
Intolerable as was this subjection to a system         of
espionage, to having the whole tenor of my life falsified, and to be actually taken to task concerning the




160
routine of my household, I was further chafed by an
occurrence somewhat more grave and unpleasant.
The following note, addressed to me by the governess
of my children, will explain it:Dear Sir,
"In a letter received yesterday, from my sister, the following
passage occurs; which I consider it my painful duty to lay before
you, requesting you to take such steps as you deem best to make
the author of the report deny what she has said; or explain her
reasons for saying what is reported.
" Mrs. Carpenter, while in London, heard from her son, Dr.' Carpenter, what I think it best to tell you, painful as it is; namely,' Mrs. Butler's scandalous reports respecting yourself; that a criminal connexion between her husband and you was the cause of her
6leaving him, &c. &c. &c. Lady Byron and Lady Lovelace men-'tioned this to Dr. Carpenter, who said the thing was impossible,'speaking of the high respectability of our family, but expressed'surprise to his mother that you remained under the circumstances.' She, fortunately, had heard all your letters, and could answer him
fully, saying, you remained contrary to the wishes of your friends'here, but out of consideration to the children, and at the earnest
6desire of Mr. Butler's family and most respectable relatives.' The whole of Mrs. Butler's statement being a tissue of falsehood,'you perhaps may not be surprised at anything she utters, however
6 base or black.'
" Thus ends the paragraph, and I am not surprised; but, knowing
it, consider it a duty to my character that the subject should be investigated, and that Mrs. Butler should explicitly, and in writing,
either deny what she has said, or state her motives for propagating
such a falsehood.
f"In your hands I leave it, and believe me, &c.
6 AMELIA HALL,
"June 22, 18 45 "




161
An appeal thus frankly and directly made to my
sense of justice and of honour, could be treated in
one decisive way only.     I felt bound, by every consideration, to trace, if possible, so scandalous a report
to its source, and to demand its unqualified recantation.   In requiring a distinct disclaimer from       Mrs.
Butler, I fully explained, by extracts from the letters
of her friends in England, and also from       the foregoing note, my grounds for doing so.         The communication addressed to her respecting this heartless and
baseless calumny, however explicit, is, as I conceive,
worded    temperately   under the circumstances, and
would, by conscious innocence, have been answered
with equal promptness and positiveness,' June 28, 1845,
6 A short time ago I received letters from Mrs. Sartoris and Mrs.
Mackintosh, both of whom are your correspondents. These letters
were incomprehensible to me, and contained expressions which I
did not understand, Mrs. Mackintosh says,' I entreat you, if you
have any wish (either for your children's sake, your own comfort' or respectability) that Fanny should remain in your house-to take
some measures for appointing a successor to Miss Hall. I must
consider her presence an insult to Fanny; and I do not believe your'present life can or ought to go on while she remains.' Mrs. Sartoris says, 6 Let me entreat you to modify that most unjust and intolerable arrangement by which Miss Hall (a hired instructress)
6supersedes my sister in her right and control over her children.
No woman would bear such an intolerable insult as this! There
is but one opinion about it here, and that is, that from the moment
smy sister returned to take her proper place, Miss Hall ought to
have been dismissed at once. All your and our friends are in the
x




162' extremest surprise that this should not have been arranged by you''previous to Fanny's return to your house.'
" All this was perfectly inexplicable to me, for I did not know who
or what had induced these two ladies to write to me in this manner,
and I was totally at a loss to understand why Miss Hall should not
remain as the governess of my children; still more was I at a loss
to conceive how her presence could be an insult to you. It seemed
strange, indeed, that while I considered her a proper person to instruct my children, that persons living in England should undertake
to rule my domestic arrangements, and should urge me to dismiss
her; nor could I interpret the grave insinuations which their expressions seemed to convey. Some light has been cast upon the subject
by a letter which Miss Hall herself has just received from her sister
in England, an extract from which has been communicated to me;
it is as follows:' Mrs. Carpenter, while in London, heard from her' son, Dr. Carpenter, what I think it best to tell you, painful as it is;
namely, Mrs. Butler's scandalous reports respecting yourself; that'a criminal connexion between her husband and you was the cause
of her leaving him, &c. &c. &c. Lady Byron and Lady Lovelace'mentioned this to Dr. Carpenter.'
" This report is stated to come from Lady Byron and Lady Lovelace; it is probable that Mrs. Jameson was their informant; she has
constant intercourse with them; and she is a correspondent of yoursO
It is necessary that you should say whether or not you have originated such a report, or whether you have ever said any thing which
could give rise to it. I require your answer to be plain and direct,
so as either to confirm you as the author, or to disprove it totally.
"PIERCE BUTLER."
I expected this matter, so serious in its import, and
which no right-minded or true-hearted woman could
possibly treat with levity, would receive immediate
attention. Two entire days, however, were allowed




163
to elapse; and even then no direct disclaimer or exculpation was attempted, but I was sent a frivolous
and evasive reply, ending with the cold-blooded insinuation that she was "not at all surprised" at the
disadvantageous reports about one of her own sex
whose innocence she perfectly knew.
" June 30.
"     6 "6As for the letter I received from you on Saturday, I
have been really at a loss how to reply to it-to an accusation of
spreading scandalous reports, brought against me by an utter stranger, I have of course no answer to make; with the contents of the
letters of your English correspondents I have nothing to do, still less
with those of Miss Hall, which she communicated to you. If my
sister or Mrs. Mackintosh write to you about your affairs, it is neither at my instigation, nor with my knowledge. I am sorry for the
disadvantageous reports in circulation about Miss Hall, but not at all
surprised at them, as they are the natural and inevitable consequence
of her position in your family for the past year."
Such an answer irresistibly forced upon my mind,
after what had passed, the conviction that Mrs. Butler had been, at least, an accessary to these cruel and
debasing reports; and, under the influence of indignant and outraged feeling, I immediately again wrote:
"July 1, 1845.
6' It is impossible to make any impression on one whose mental
and moral obliquity blinds her to all the vices of her nature, whose
reason is sophistry, whose religion is cant, and whose unbounded
self-esteem renders her happy and satisfied in all her wrong doings:
therefore I have no hope that you will ever comprehend, much less
fulfil, your duty as a mother. In the endeavour to discharge my




164
duty to my children, I am as much bound to protect those who have
in any way the care of them, and who are sheltered by my roof, as
I am bound to protect my children themselves. An infamous scandal having been reported concerning their instructress, it is but right
that it should be denied and disproved, and this for their sakes as
much as for hers. Therefore I again require, that you will explicitly state whether or not, you have ever said anything against the
character of Miss Hall, or anything which could originate the report
alluded to. Your having refused an answer gives me the strongest
impression that you have done so; and if you do not fear to speak
the truth, why not answer explicitly a simple question?  You ought
to perceive that such a report is, in reality, more injurious to your
children than even to Miss Hall herself; and, unless disproved, it
places you in a most discreditable position, for consenting to sit at
table, day after day, with such a character, Deny, therefore, if you
can, having originated the infamous calumny, and clear yourself froar
an imputation that the vilest woman would be ashamed of."
To which she rejoined:
"6 rWednesday, July 2.' You appear to overlook the fact, that in bringing an accusation
of defamation against me, you are bound to prove it otherwise than
by your suspicions or the affirmation of a person who is a stranger
to me; and as the guilt of propagating malignant falsehoods is, in
my opinion, greater than that of a breach of chastity, I beg you will
do so. You have also forgotten that the mere simple denial of a
person accused (and by yourself, as you state, strongly suspected)
of what you charge me with, would be utterly worthless, as anybody, capable of one lie, would hardly scruple to shield himself by
another. The intemperate tone of your letter makes those inconsistencies less surprising than they would otherwise be; and I will only




165
add, that I protest most solemnly against the unworthy treatment to
which I am subjected, and which I have in no way deserved."
Mrs. Butler, in her' Narrative," filed in Court,
says:-" At the same time I addressed a note to the
u' governess, denying that I had ever spoken, written,
" or even thoyght the injurious things respecting her,
" which were attributed to me."*   This note was
not shown to myself, nor was I aware of its existence until some days after its date and delivery.
Had a copy of it been communicated to me, or a frank
and direct answer to my explicit interrogatory, Mrs.
Butler would have been spared the letter of July 1st,
which she extorted only by her perverse preference
of adroit trifling to ingenuous truth. She affirms that
she never " even thought" anything against the governess.  It is, then, much to be regretted that she
so frequently suggested the imminent danger of injurious reports; as nothing so certainly or more artfully
gives birth to a calumny than a constant allusion to
the likelihood of its rise. To entertain such delicate
matters as probabilities, precedes but little their being treated as certainties; and scandal hinted soon
blooms into scandal asserted.  It is the invariable
sequence.  She knew Miss Hall too well to be audacious enough to assail her directly; but, nevertheless, she often declared that remaining in my family
would end in the loss of her reputation. She reiterates this several times in her " Narrative;" and
here are two occasions, out of many:-" The resi"dence of the governess in his house, under all the
"circumstances through which she had persisted in it,
*-  Mrs. Butler's " Narralive," p. 18.




166
" had not escaped observation and comment, and, as I
"had fully anticipated, had led to the most disadvan" tageous and painful rumours with regard to her cha"racter." *  Again:-"I am sorry for the disadvan"tageous reports in circulation about Miss Hall, but
"not at all surprised at them."t  That she habitually maintained this tone, I know; and the frequency
with which, in her " Narrative," she thrusts forward
the name of the governess, betrays to the most casual
observer an eagerness to fortify those rumours, which
she dared not openly countenance, but which she had
" fully anticipated," and " was not at all surprised at."
There can be no reasonable doubt, I have never entertained the slightest, that these atrocious slanders
had no other source or origin than Mrs. Butler's own
light and loose language.
It is, perhaps, but just, and may not be out of place
here, to introduce a letter from myself to Mr. Hall,
written at the time his sister relinquished the care of
my children and returned to her own country and
kindred. The high estimation expressed of that lady
was common to every member of my family, and, in
fact, to all who knew her.
" Philadelphia, Nov. 4, 1845.
6 My dear Sir,
" Your sister having fully determined to leave us, I cannot allow
her to go without writing to you to express my very great regret at
her departure. Her going is altogether her own act, and glad should
I be, if she could have been content to remain. So well satisfied have
I been with her care and management of my children for three years
that I have had no wish with regard to them, but that she should re* Mrs. Butler's N6 arrative," p. 16.  t Idem, p. 18.




167
main their instructress until they were grown up. Mild, judicious,
and untiring in her attention to their studies, they have made a rapid
advance in knowledge, and their minds have developed steadily and
healthily. It is not only in the school room, and as an instructress,
that I place so high an estimate on Miss Hall's qualities; I looked
to my children's deriving as much benefit from their companionship
with her, as from anything else. Her gentleness, amiability, and
kindness have strongly attached them to her, and I believe their dispositions would naturally have taken their character from hers. My
children will be great losers by Miss Hall's departure, for there is no
hope of finding any lady to fill her place. Your sister carries with
her the respect and esteem of every member of my family; and
their regret at her loss to us is equal with mine. They, as well as
myself, will always feel an interest in her welfare, and will ever remember with kind feelings her excellent care of my children.
" I remain, my dear sir,
"Yours, very truly,
" PIERCE BUTLER.
JOHN ROBERT HALL, Esq., London."
From   the moment Mrs. Butler rejoined the family,
so far from endeavouring to "conform to the arrangements of my house as she found them        on entering it,"
agreeably to her written pledge, she exhibited an uncurbed anxiety to bring about occasions of controversy and disturbance, and fan into flame every little
latent spark of strife.   To myself she allowed no repose. I was called upon by her rapid epistles to
remodel almost every department of the domestic administration.    She repelled quiet and courted contention.   Under such influences it was also natural she
should not get on smoothly with the children. Unceasing war against their father was not likely           to




168
maintain peace with them.      Absence for more than a
year had weakened her maternal authority, and her
course after return was ill calculated to re-establish it,
Angry differences arose between them, which she attributed to various causes, but never the true one;
nor would she permit herself to perceive that having
failed in the duty of a wife, she necessarily lost her
rightful position as a mother.     On the happening of
a most painful and violent altercation with her elder
daughter, she led her by the arm to me that I might
enforce the child's submission; Mrs. Butler was in a
glare of excitement, and I did not reply to her, but
told the child she must be obedient.    Deprecating the
baneful effects upon my daughter's character consequent upon such scenes, I determined, if possible, to
arrest them.    The subjoined letter to Mrs. Butler
illustrates partially the wretched discord that reigned.
"June 29, 1845.
" I must request that you will have nothing to say, or to do, with
Sarah. This is absolutely necessary for the child's welfare. The
contentions between you must cease, for their effect upon her character and disposition will be dreadful. It is not in my power to
control her behaviour to you; it is the reward you are reaping for
your own past misconduct. The total loss of affection, duty, and
obedience which she shows for you, is the result of your own violation of all the duties of a wife and a mother. Had you been true to
your obligations to your children, you would not now suffer the humiliation of their loss of respect for you. A mother who abandons
her children, cannot expect to have the same hold upon their affeco
tions, when she returns to them, after a desertion of more than one
year. Sarah's quick perceptions have enabled her to form her own
opinions; she has judged you, and condemns you. You have lost




169
all influence over her, and your appeals to me to make her treat you
with respect are utterly vain; it is not in my power, nor in that of
any human being, to restore that which your own conduct has forfeited. The authority of a parent once abandoned and broken up,
cannot easily be regained or repaired. Your position, such as it is,
was made and is maintained by yourself. You abandoned your
children, you vilified their father, you defamed those who were about
them, and who by kindness had gained their affection; you created
discord and dissension in my home, you broke up and destroyed
every vestige of domestic peace and happiness, and you exposed
and made public the unhappy state of our family affairs. You regarded neither truth, honour, nor decency in your assaults upon me;
you scrupled at nothing, you stopped at nothing, in your endeavour
to dishonour and discredit me in the world's opinion. You made
my bitter enemies your chosen friends; you hunted me yourself,
and you set them on to hunt me too. You separated yourself from
me, and your dearest object would have been gained, could you have
succeeded in depriving me of all control over my children. You
took no pains to conceal your conduct from the children, you let
them know what you were about, and you set the eldest child, if indeed not both of them, to think for herself. She did think, and now
you wonder that she does not consider you with respect. Nothing
that I can do, nothing that any one can do, will efface from Sarah's
mind the effects of your conduct. You must at once cease all communication with her; you cast away a mother's rightful claim over
your child, and you cannot recover it. Her will is strong, and she
can only be ruled by kindness and affection; these are influences
which you can no longer exert over her. You have rendered my
home wretched and miserable; and it will gratify you to know that
you have completely destroyed my happiness in life. Forbear, for
God's sake, and do not destroy the happiness of your child. With
the younger child, you have still some influence left; exert it as
Y




170
beneficially as you may. With Sarah, you can do nothing but
harm; you have roused her strong spirit of resistance to injustice,
and you cannot master it; for God's sake, let her alone."
An additional illustration   of the distraction and
turmoil which Mrs. Butler so sedulously fomented,
may be found in her account of the visit of the children to the country in the summer of that year-     184 5.
She has represented this with such elaborate and preposterous distortion as to make it appear an injury to
my daughters, and a wrong to herself, that they were
sent out of town in the dog-days.    The illness of my
father and of another near relative confined me to the
city; but the children could not be allowed to remain,
and the best retreat for them, as appeared to me, was
a farm  of my own in a salubrious and retired spot
only six miles off.   I arranged for their temporary
accommodation at that place, as one easily accessible;
and I felt sure of both their safety and happiness while
there. This simple and satisfactory measure for their
health and welfare was, like most others, assailed by
Mrs. Butler, and instantly seized as another theme
for her prolific pen:-, I hlope you will be good enough to make such arrangements as
will not separate my children from me. I came to your house to be
with them, and have a right to expect that they will not be placed
where I cannot be with them.
" July 14th."
I replied to her objection:I Ihave made an arrangement to send the chilldren to the Darby
farm for two or three weeks, with their former nurse, Ann Martin,




171
the only servant who was ever able to exercise any control over
them, and under whose care they will be perfectly safe. I would
not send them to a public watering-place, unless I accompany them
myself, which I am unable to do, on account of the illness of my
father and aunt.
6 Tuesday, July 15th."
Accordingly they went to the Darby farm.          I usually visited them  twice a week.      Mrs. Butler was at
perfect liberty to visit them    whenever she pleased:
nor could she possibly find it inconvenient to do so,
as she was in the habit of taking daily and long rides
on horseback for her own recreation.
The only dwelling on this farm was occupied by
the farmer and his family, who could spare but one
room; and that, indeed, was all-sufficient for the two
children and their nurse.      But Mrs. Butler was inflexibly bent on frustrating    the plan, or, failing in
that, to convert it into a pretext for final desertion.
The children were no sooner gone than she issued
another despatch: --
4 The circumstances under which I obtained admission to the
home of my children certainly entitled me to expect that they would
not again be removed from me. I must, therefore, once more request that you will not persist in separating them from me. Fanny
was very unwell when she left town, and I cannot consent to be prevented from seeing my child under such circumstances, The accommodation which is sufficient for the person who is now with
them is quite sufficient for me, and I am at least as competent as any
hired attendant to the care of my ow!n' children,:'- *
"6 July 17th1."




172
To which I answered:"The children have been sent out of town for their benefit; they
cannot be better off than they are at present. You are not refused
access to them, you can go to visit them in your rides, and can see
them as often as I do myself. There is no room for another person
in the house with them, nor is it necessary that any one else should
be with them for the time they are to remain there. I saw them
yesterday, and left them both quite well.        *      *
"6 July 18th, 1845."
Although the excessive inconvenience, if not the
impossibility, of her residing in the house with the
children, owing to actual want of room, was apparent
and known to      Mrs. Butler, she was, nevertheless,
pertinacious, and addressed me still another note, in
which she says:*     * *   " I again reiterate my request to be admitted to the
house where my children are living, as a separation of this sort from
them was of course not what I contemplated when I came hither
solely for the purpose of being with them.
July 19th."
This miserable doggedness of temper which sought
on all occasions to weary me into       surrendering my
arrangements and views to her own, and which had
been practised with little intermission since her abode
under my roof, wrung from       me a reply which I idly
hoped might relieve me from its continuance:
~ *   *  *  " The pretence of not being able to bear a short
separation from your children, while they are enjoying themselves




173
in the country, is hollow and absurd. You wilfully abandoned them
for fourteen months without a struggle, and only this week you went
away from them for four days, leaving the younger child much indisposed. They shall remain where they are, and as they are, until
I think proper to bring them back to the city.
"July 19th.
She now undertook to act in defiance of my distinctly communicated determination and wishes; she
went to the farm; she turned the nurse out of her
bed-the only one there was for her-and coolly assumed possession for herself.  Such conduct was
flagrant, and obliged me to repeat what I had done
on the performance of a similar feat of rebellion,
when, by her wilful misconduct she so nearly brought
serious consequences upon herself and me at the Yellow Springs.*  I accordingly drove to the farm and
brought the children away.
Her version of this last proceeding is given with
dramatic talent and effect:" I accordingly went to the farm, and prepared to
"make it my residence as long as my children should
"remain there. After tea I suddenly heard that the
libellant had arrived; the children went out to meet
"him, and I remained alone working by the waning
"daylight.  Presently the libellant burst into my
"room, and drawing the door after him which opened
"between the farmer's room and the one where I was
"sitting, he said, in an under tone, but with the most
"furious manner:-' I told you not to come here;
"'now you or the children leave this place to-night.
* See page 94.




174
" I'll have no words with you!' after which he rushed' out of the other door, and so left me."Having "rushed out of the other door" I waited a
short time for some manifestation of her purpose.
She was immovable. I therefore directed the nurse
to equip the children, and "in spite of the damp night
"air, for it had rained all the afternoon,-in spite of
" the gathering darkness, for it was past eight o'clock
"and thick twilight, the libellant persisted in taking
" away the two poor children, who departed crying,
"without bidding me good-by, or even seeing me
"again. t
The next morning she came into town.      The
weather was oppressively warm. My daughters necessarily suffered greatly. Their mother had interrupted
the enjoyments of their rural retreat, and rendered
their stay at the farm impossible. But I am never
discouraged when their good is in view, and in the
course of a couple of days proceeded to search within
a range of a few miles for suitable lodgings. I was
not successful, and returned the same afternoon. On
reaching home I learned that Mrs. Butler had again
gone to the Darby farm with the children, " where,"
she says, " they were delighted to get back."I  She
left them there and came home, "having made up her
mind not to return to the farmo"~
Among the means of harassing within the power of
Mrs. Butler was that of withholding her signature to
conveyances or deeds relating to real estate, and thus
*  Mrs. Butler's -;'tt1rrative," p. 21.  |   Idem, p. 22.
+ Idem. p, 22.                  Id1m. p.  2.




175
hindering transactions of business.  An instance of
this sort occurred: a person desired to pay off a
ground rent upon his property and was entitled to a
deed of release or extinguishment: the documentperfectly simple in its import —was prepared and sent
to her with the following note:" Your signature is required to the accompanying deed. It is
the extinguishment of a ground rent, as you will see by looking
at it.
" ugust 8th, 1845."
She refused to sign, and thus placed me in a position at once awkward and vexatious, unable to render
to another the complete muniment which he had a
perfect right to demand.  For such peevish obstinacy
there seemed no remedy; I was without relief, and
powerless, I could hope for no effect from a retaliatory intimation; but as nothing else was possible, I
addressed her as follows:
"6 Since you choose to thwart me in the management of my business, I give you notice that your allowance is discontinued, and I
forbid you going to my farm where the children are.
" dugust 8th."
Previous to this, however, her allowance for that
month-August-had been advanced; and as respects
the prohibition upon her visits to the farm, she manifested for it her customary deference by going there
the very same day.
Mrs. Butler anxiously struggles to evade the condemnation and shame of having wilfully deserted her




176
husband and children; and her " Narrative" exhausts
her stores of art, ingenuity, perversion and pretence,
in efforts to persuade that she was actually driven
from the sphere of her conjugal and parental duties.
She charges " not only cruelty on the part of the li" bellant, but also his unlawful design to force me
"from his habitation."*  To inspire and sustain this
belief, she has interwoven throughout numerous
threads of untruth with such dexterity that to unravel
the web, so as to separate what is false from what is
fact, would be an almost endless undertaking. Many
of these strokes of deceit have already been dissected
and refuted: some others may not improperly be noticed. She says, "T The children having been sent to
"the Darby farm, and the governess to a watering-' place, the house was given up to workmen to be
"plastered and painted. The libellant took up his
6 abode in his brother's house, and I remained alone
" at the end of July, in the midst of dirt, confusion,
" noise and discomfort of a house under repairs."t
Now in this single and short quotation are to be
detected no less than four false suggestions. And,
first; " the governess having been sent to a watering" place."  A lady who had evinced a friendly feeling
towards Miss Hall invited her to accompany herself
and family to the Yellow Springs; she availed herself of the kindness and went; returning, however,
before my children came back to the city, she was
cordially welcomed to the house of one of my relatives, and there remained until her pupils were again
at home and ready to resume their lessons. It is,
* Mrs. Butler's " Narrative," p. 23.   t Ilem, p. 20.




177
therefore, not true that the governess was "sent"
anywhere, and especially by me. Second; " the house
"was given up to workmen to be plastered and paint"ed." No work was done in the house, other than
painting the entries; patches of "dirt" may have
been produced by washing and otherwise preparing
the walls to receive the paint, a process which occupied some three or four days; that being accomplished
there was not even "dirt" to offend the eye. The
painting was limited exclusively to the entries; not a
room of the house was touched; and no "plastering"
at all attempted. It is, therefore, not true that "the
"house was given up to workmen to be plastered and
"painted."  Third; " The libellant took up his abode
"in his brother's house." In my preparations for Mrs.
Butler's return and residence, I had assigned to her
occupation and comfort the very best rooms: the other
good ones, those on the third floor, were appropriated
to my daughters, their governess, and the nurse. For
myself I had reserved an apartment in the back buildings, which proved in the summer so insufferably
hot as to make the night sleepless, and I was induced
to seek a cooler chamber at my brother's, immediately
opposite, crossing the street only at night, and only to
sleep; for in every other particular my " abode" remained unaltered. It is, therefore, not true that any
"repairs" to my own led me to " take up my abode
"in my brother's house."  Fourth; "I remained
"alone at the end of July, in the midst of dirt, con"fusion, noise, and discomfort of a house under re"pairs."  This description is equally fanciful: unless
the mere painting of an entry be construed into "a
"house under repairs."  Much more plausibly might
z




178
every wife and mother, on the recurrence of the semiannual period of house-cleaning, proclaim the hardship of witnessing domestic renovations, and so affect
to be driven into the streets by the removal of carpets, scrubbing, and whitewashing.
Among the countless trivialities and immaterialities
of the "Narrative," I must not be supposed intentionally to pass over, as incapable of contradiction,
that which refers to some anonymous letters alleged
to have been received by her.' Among the annoyances of that time, I do not
"think it too unimportant to state that anonymous
"'letters were sent to me, copies of two whereof,
"marked Exhibits 10 A and 10 B, I annex, and
" which, I was distressed to believe, were written by
" the libellant, proof whereof, if desired, I crave leave
"to adduce."*
I feel much more authorized to assert that Mrs.
Butler wrote, or caused to be written, these letters to
herself, for the very purpose to which they are here
put, than she could possibly find grounds for attributing them to me. I do not think she ever sincerely
believed them to be mine. In reply to this unworthy
charge, I can do no more than affirm myself to be incapable of so cowardly and mean a device: that I
neither wrote nor instigated the letters to which she
refers, nor ever heard or knew of their existence until their production by her.
Another wanton misstatement, very easily and conclusively disproved, is the following:*  Mrs. Butler's:i cNarrative',   p, 13,




179
"I was also often exceedingly inconvenienced by
"the withholding of the allowance which the libellant
"made me, as it was paid with great irregularity."*
It will be remembered that when she left me, in
October, 1843, while we were yet at lodgings after
our return from England, I voluntarily offered to let
her have $2500 a year, to be paid monthly. I continued this allowance uninterruptedly from that time to
March, 1845; and she alludes to the instalments of
that annual sum of $2500 when she ventures, under
oath, to declare them to have been " often withheld,"
and " paid with great irregularity." I heard more than
once that Mrs. Butler had kindled against me the wrath
of her companions by complaints as to the insufficiency
of the sum I paid her, taking special care, however,
never to state its amount; but further telling them
that she obtained it from me with much difficulty.
The foregoing paragraph of her sworn "Narrative"
is, therefore, in strict accordance with her conversational representations. I have it in my power, and
with the undeniable attestations of her own receipting signatures, to show the entire absence of truth in
her allegations as to "withholding" or "irregularity"
of payments. With this view I annex the dates of
those payments, made to her through her counsel, by
whom her receipts were duly sent to me. It will be
seen that they were always in advance.
1843. November 21, 1st payment, for December,  $208
1844. January 2,  2d,,   January,         208,, February 2,  3d,,    February,        208,, March 1,    4th,,    March,           208,, April 5,    5th,,    April,           208' I'Mrs. Butler's "jl arraN.i l'," p. 8.




180
1844. May 11,    6th payment, for May,        $208,, June 18,     7th,,    June and July,    416,, August 1,    8th,,    August,           208,, September 7,  9th,,    September,        208, October 25,  10th,,    October and Nov.  416,, December 2, 11th,    December,    $138
Paid bill on her account,    70
-208
1845. January 2,  12th payment for January,     208,, February 19, 13th,,   February,         208
When, in March, 1845, Mrs. Butler resumed her
place as a member of my family, in my habitation,
and was subject to no expenses other than merely personal ones, the allowance of $2500 ceased of course,
and I named $800 as adequate to her then comparatively trifling wants. Many would deem this ample:
others, perhaps, insufficient. Let it be remembered
that I could scarcely pretend, without hypocrisy, to
any particular liberality towards one who, though still
my wife, was an avowed enemy and open traducer.
So long as we had lived together on different terms,
though discontented and dissatisfied always, she never
had cause to reproach me, and she never did reproach
me, with restricting her means, either for pleasures or
necessities.  What I possessed was as freely used by
her as by myself.  From March to September, 1845,
six months, she was entitled to and obtained $400;
but she did not scrupulously keep within the limits
prescribed; soon after her departure, debts contracted
by her to the amount of $450 were presented to me
and paid. For the half year, therefore, preceding
her final flight, she had more than doubled the stipulated allowance.




181
Mrs. Butler had come into my house with reluc
tance, and in truth much against her own will, submitting to the pressure of the opinions and advice of
her friends, who could no longer countenance or excuse her selfish and passionate estrangement from her
children. From the moment she crossed the threshold, she assiduously prepared to retrace her step.
This design was so apparent as to make manifestly
useless, and far too vexatious and burdensome, the
task of answering her almost daily communications.
After my brief note of August 8th, I wrote no more.
Her letters to me, however, still flowed on.
Disregarding her solemn engagements, not to "men6' tion to any person any circumstance which may oc"cur in Mr. Butler's house or family," and that she
would " neither write nor speak of Mr. Butler to any
" one while I remain under his roof,"* she did write
exactly as she pleased of every thing that took place.
This, in her zeal to extenuate her conduct, she confesses:-" My friends and family in England, whose
"advice I now demanded, strongly urged me for my
"children's sake to come away; and I perceived the
"necessity that I should do so."t  They whom she
thus vouches as counsellors could know nothing of
the condition of my domestic affairs except from the
discoloured delineations of her pen: nor was it easy
for them, in view of her ever active and ever eloquent
desire to be in England, to forbear encouraging what
was so obviously in accordance with her own wishes,
and what they probably foresaw she would do at every
hazard.
* See page 147,      t Mrs. Butler's "I Narrative," p. 28.




182
The children were to return to town early in September, and thus would then cease one of her subjects
of complaint. Their absence, no matter how meritorious its object, constituted her best pretext for the
desertion: and she could not wait even a few days,
without risking the loss of that pretext.        Hence the
following letter:" The removal of my children for a couple of months from the
house into which I was admitted upon conditions which I embraced
SOLELY for the purpose of being with them, has of course cancelled
those conditions. I no longer feel myself in any way bound to observe them, for the sole purpose for which I undertook to do so has
been defeated, and my children have been separated from me again,
in spite of all my sacrifices to remain near them. This compact
being as far as I am concerned at an end, I now write to you under
the expectation that my children must soon return home, once more
to entreat you to reconsider the arrangements in your house and
family, and to reorganize them in a manner which shall place me in my
right relation towards my children, and them in their proper relation to
me. The experiment of the last six months must, I should think, have
sufficed to show you that nothing but discomfort, disorder, and the
most serious disadvantages could spring from the state of things
which has existed in your house during that period. The injury to
the children has been terrible, and as that should be with you the
most important of all considerations, I entreat and hope that for their
sakes you will establish your household upon a footing that will obviate results which you must deplore as much as I do. I have no
desire to enter into any detail upon these painful subjects. In spite
of your frequent absence from your house, you must have perceived
what has escaped no one in it, the deplorable effects of the arrangements which have hitherto subsisted in it; and I again appeal to
you for your own sake, for that of the children, and for justice sake,




183
to re-establish me in my rights and position as a mother, for which
alone I came hither under the conditions which you imposed upon
me, for which alone I am here still, and which I trust you will yet
be induced to acknowledge and restore to me.
" September 1st, 1845."
I made no reply, and she wrote again:" September 10th, 1845.
"The last communication I made to you upon the subject of my
position in your house, having remained unnoticed, I must now inform you that I have come to the determination not to submit any
longer to be excluded from the care of my children, and being unable to obtain justice from you in this respect, will now leave this
house, whither I came solely for the purpose of discharging my
duty, and being of use to my children. All hope of any such result
being at an end, in consequence of other influences to which they
are subjected, and my remaining here being not only useless henceforward, but undoubtedly prejudicial to the children, I shall comply
with my father's desire, and the advice of my friends and family, to
return to England. In doing so, I am actuated by the same motives
which brought me to this house, the desire of doing that which is
best for my children. Should you at any future time, see fit to restore to me my proper position towards my children, be assured that
NOTHING will prevent my resuming it; that God may yet incline
your heart before it is too late to what is right in this respect, I pray
most earnestly."
Mrs. Butler was quite conscious that such precontrived epistles could produce no effect on me: but, like
her seemingly impulsive and resistless gushes in London, they might be shown; might be reserved for pros



184
pective emergencies; and might, to those who were
unaware of the utter and puerile falsity of their contents, seem natural sequels to her correspondence
with her "friends and family in England."
Of her own will had she abandoned her children
for sixteen months, during which time their care and
control necessarily devolved upon myself. When she
came back I thought it prudent to continue, for a time
at least, my supervision, until I could ascertain what
would probably be her future behaviour, and judge as
to the expediency and discretion of relinquishing them
entirely to her. She was fully cognizant of my intention in this respect, and had acquiesced in it. In
a letter to Mr. Furness, I said, "She must bear in
"mind, however, that in consequence of her deser" tion of the children, I have been obliged for a year
" past to assume the entire direction of them, and that
"the arrangements I have made for their studies and
"education, must in no way be interfered with."*
Her written contract of agreement contained a similar
provision,-" I will also conform to the arrangements
"of his house, as I shall find them on entering it."t
No restraint whatever was put upon the daily intercourse between herself and children; it was entirely
free: but her deportment had not been such as to
convince me of the prudence of surrendering my
charge. My firm adherence to a sense of duty on
this subject was the sole reason on which, to me, she
ever pretended to justify or explain her final and
abrupt departure. Her two letters, September 1st
and 10th, assign no other motive or cause. As, how* See page 134.              t See page 147.




185
ever, such a plea could avail as little in a court of
justice as in sound morals, she accommodated her
conscience to the necessities of her case, and charging me with "cruelty," exerted in her " Narrative"
all her remarkable powers of exaggeration, sophistry
and eloquence, to sustain this expedient afterthought.
In her "Answer" to my petition for a divorce, she
says,-" His conduct towards me for a long space of
"time before I so quitted and absented myself from
" his habitation, was designed and calculated, and such
" as to force me therefrom. I should have been jus"tified as I submit to the court, even without such
assent, license, approval, acquiescence, or design, in
" so quitting or absenting myself from the libellant's
"habitation by his cruel treatment of me, and by such
"personal indignities offered to me by him, as ren"dered my condition intolerable and my life burthen-'some."*   And again,-" His treatment of me was
"such, for a length of time, habitually, that I should
"have been warranted by the law of God and the
"land, to depart wholly from his house and never see
"him more, without incurring the charge of desertion' or any other breach of my duty."t
This imputation of "cruelty," and even of "personal indignities," groundless and unsupported by
proof, but boldly and unblushingly made, was unknown
to me until the " Narrative" appeared. Her letters,
as I have remarked, warning me of her design, allege
nothing of the sort: in the first, she observes,-" The
"removal of my children for a couple of months from
"the house into which 1 was admitted upon condi"tions which I embraced solely for the purpose of be* Mrs. Butler's "Narrative," p. 4.  - Idem, p. 5.
2 A




186
"ing with them, has of course cancelled those condi"tions. I no longer feel myself in any way bound to
"observe them.               T X -*  This compact being,
"as far as I am concerned, at an end, I now write to
"you under the expectation that my children must
"soon return home, once more to entreat you to re"consider the arrangements in your house and family,
"and to reorganize them in a manner which shall
"place me in my right relations towards my children,
"and them in their proper relation to me.  e  X 
" I again appeal to you for your own sake, for that of
"the children, and for justice sake, to re-establish me
"in my rights and position as a mother."  In the second, the very day before taking the long premeditated and deliberate step, she wrote,-" I must now
"inform you that I have come to the determination
"not to submit any longer to be excluded from the
" care of my children; and being unable to obtain
"justice from you in this respect, will now leave this
"house.               J *  *  *  I shall comply with my fa"ther's desire, and the advice of my friends and fa"mily, to return to England. In doing so, I am
" actuated by the same motives which brought me to' this house, the desire of doing that which is best for
"my children."  Not a word or syllable whispering
an intimation of " cruel treatment," or " personal indignities." The single point at issue, and that which
alone impels her movement, is explicitly declared to
be the care of the children, which she claimed as
hers, but which I thought it proper still to reserve as
mine. This is undeniable: and the subsequent resort
to other and novel pretences, such as "cruelty" and
personal indignities," while it involves an admission




187
of the insufficiency of the only one on which she had
acted, did no more than give her the mere words of a
defence, and open a wide field for artificial sentiment
and disingenuous " Narrativeo'
The next day, September 11, 1845, she carried her
resolve into effect, leaving my house without my
consent, or even knowledge, and taking up her abode
at a public hotel. She left the United States for
England in October following, and remained away
until the spring of 1848.
During the period of eighteen months, which elapsed between her last desertion and her resumption of
her early professional occupation, she corresponded
freely with her children. Her letters were mainly
descriptive of what she saw in Italy and other countries through which she travelled;, and their letters to
her were dictated by their own minds and feelings. I
interfered in no way, though naturally watchful of her
course. After returning to public life, her letters became so objectionable as to compel me to place an
interdict upon further communications. She wrote
what was not true, and what was designed and calculated to estrange and prejudice the minds and hearts
of my children from their father. In mercy and justice to them and to myself I could not suffer this.
They had no one to look to but me: I was striving to
guide them aright; and my efforts would have been
worse than vain had their confidence been undermined
and destroyed.
Her going again upon the stage totally extinguished
the hope, the faint and feeble hope, that she might at
some future day of more chastened and advanced age,
be enlightened by a just appreciation of her relations




188
and obligations. That act was the consummation of
a sad career of error, which had engendered misery,
strife and disunion at our hearth. Her prolonged
misconduct had severed in succession every tie that
united us: the fetters of the law alone remained: and
to remove those became thenceforward the object as
well as the duty of my life.
I have now done all that I proposed or wish to do
in this printed pamphlet. One or two topics introduced into the " Narrative" of Mrs. Butler as mere
accessaries to her main drift, have intentionally been
treated with contemptuous silence. They are mere
efforts to insinuate injurious shades of disposition,
taste or character, and these I prefer living down to
formally contesting. My divorce leaves me with but
a single object worth pursuing, the vindication of my
conduct as a husband and a father from the elaborated
tissue of accusations which, I presume, she placed
upon record in the exulting expectation that it would
thus be made, like a shirt of Nessus, to stick to me
for ever. I cannot put this statement alongside of her
Narrative:" that the law forbids: I can do better:
I can deposit it in the hands of friends alike just and
faithful, and I can mingle it with the testamentary
memorials of paternal pride, affection, and honour.




PHILADELPHIA:
JOHN C. CLARK, PRINTER,
68 Dock Street.