<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CHAPTER VII. WEDDING A WIDOW, AND THE CONSEQUENCES. </h2>
<p>I MARRY A WIDOW—SIX WEEKS OF HAPPINESS—CONFIDING A SECRET AND
THE CONSEQUENCES—THE WIDOW'S BROTHER—SUDDEN FLIGHT FROM NEWARK—IN
HARTFORD, CONN.—MY WIFE'S SISTER BETRAYS ME—TRIAL FOR BIGAMY—SENTENCED
TO TEN YEARS IMPRISONMENT—I BECOME A "BOBBIN BOY"—A GOOD
FRIEND—GOVERNOR PRICE VISITS ME IN PRISON—HE PARDONS ME—TEN
YEARS' SENTENCE FULFILLED IN SEVEN MONTHS.</p>
<p>Why in the world did Captain Brown ever tempt me with the prospect of a
profitable patient in Newark? I had no thought of going to that city, and
no business there except to see if I could cure Captain Brown's daughter.
With my matrimonial monomania it was like putting my hand into the fire to
go to a fresh place, where I should see fresh faces, and where fresh
temptations would beset me. And when I went to Newark, I went only as I
supposed, to see a single patient; but Captain Brown prevailed upon me to
stay to take care of his daughter, and assured me that he and his friends
would secure me a good practice. They did. In two months I was doing as
well in my profession as I had ever done in any place where I had located.
I might have attended strictly to my business, and in a few years have
acquired a handsome competence. But, as ill luck, which, strangely enough,
I then considered good luck, would have it, when I had been in Newark some
two months, I became acquainted with a buxom, good-looking widow, Mrs.
Elizabeth Roberts. I protest to-day that she courted me—not I her.
She was fair, fascinating, and had a goodly share of property. I fell into
the snare. She said she was lonely; she sighed; she smiled, and I was
lost.</p>
<p>Would that I had observed the elder Weller's injunction: "Bevare of
vidders;" would that I had never seen the Widow Roberts, or rather that
she had never seen me. Eight weeks after we first met we were married. We
had a great wedding in her own house, and all her friends were present. I
was in good practice with as many patients as I could attend to; she had a
good home and we settled down to be very happy.</p>
<p>For six weeks, only six weeks, I think we were so. We might have been so
for six weeks, six months, six years longer; but alas! I was a fool I
confided to her the secret of my first marriage, and separation, and she
confided the same secret to her brother, a well-to-do wagon-maker in
Newark. So far as Elizabeth was concerned, she said she didn't care; so
long as the separation was mutual and final, since so many years had
elapsed, and especially since I hadn't seen the woman for full six years,
and was not supposed to know whether she was alive or dead, why, it was as
good as a divorce; so reasoned Elizabeth, and it was precisely my own
reasoning, and the reasoning which had got me into numberless
difficulties, to say nothing of jails and prisons. But the brother had his
doubts about it, and came and talked to me on the subject several times.
We quarrelled about it. He threatened to have me arrested for bigamy. I
told him that if he took a step in that direction I would flog him. Then
he had me brought before a justice for threatening him, with a view to
having me put under bonds to keep the peace. I employed a lawyer who
managed my case so well that the justice concluded there was no cause of
action against me.</p>
<p>But this lawyer informed me that the brother was putting, even then,
another rod in pickle for me, and that I had better clear out. I took his
advice, I went to the widow's house, packed my trunk, gathered together
what money I could readily lay hands upon, and with about $300 in my
pocket, I started for New York, staying that night at a hotel in Courtland
street.</p>
<p>The following morning I went over to Jersey City, hired a saddle-horse,
and rode to Newark. The precise object of my journey I do not think I knew
myself; but I must have had some vague idea of persuading Elizabeth to
leave Newark and join me in New York or elsewhere. I confess, too, that I
was more or less under the influence of liquor, and considerably more than
less. However, no one would have noticed this in my appearance or
demeanor. I rode directly to Elizabeth's door, hitched my horse, and went
into the house. The moment my wife saw me she cried out:</p>
<p>"For God's sake get out of this house and out of town as soon as you can;
they have been watching for you ever since yesterday; they've got a
warrant for your arrest; don't stay here one moment."</p>
<p>I asked her if she was willing to follow me, and she said she would do so
if she only dared but her brother had made an awful row, and had sworn he
would put me in prison anyhow; I had better go back to New York and await
events. I started for the door, and was unhitching my horse, when the
brother and a half dozen more were upon me. I sprang to the saddle. They
tried to stop me; the over-eager brother even caught me by the foot; but I
dashed through the crowd and rode like mad to Jersey City, returned the
horse to the livery stable, crossed the ferry to New York, went to my
hotel, got my trunk, and started for Hartford, Conn., where I arrived in
the evening.</p>
<p>This was in the month of June, 1854. I went to the old Exchange Hotel in
State street, and very soon acquired a good practice. Indeed, it seems as
if I was always successful enough in my medical business—my mishaps
have been in the matrimonial line. When I had been in Hartford about three
months, and was well settled, I thought I would go down to New York and
see a married sister of Elizabeth's, who was living there, and try to find
out how matters were going on over in Newark. That I found out fully, if
not exactly to my satisfaction, will appear anon.</p>
<p>When I called at the sister's house, the servant told me she was out, but
would be back in an hour; so I left my name, promising to call again. I
returned again at one o'clock in the afternoon, and the sister was in, but
declined to see me. As I was coming down the steps, a policeman who seemed
to be lounging on the opposite side of the street, beckoned to me, and
suspecting nothing, I crossed over to see what he wanted. He simply wanted
to know my name, and when I gave it to him he informed me that I was his
prisoner. I asked for what? and he said "as a fugitive from justice in New
Jersey."</p>
<p>This was for taking the pains to come down from Hartford to inquire after
the welfare of my wife! whose sister, the moment the servant told her I
had been there, and would call again, had gone to the nearest police
station and given information, or made statements, which led to the
setting of this latest trap for me. The policeman took me before a justice
who sent me to the Tombs. On my arrival there I managed to pick up a
lawyer, or rather one of the sharks of the place picked me up, and said
that for twenty-five dollars he would get me clear in three or four hours.
I gave him the money, and from that day till now, I have never set eyes
upon him. I lay in a cell all night, and next morning Elizabeth's brother,
to whom the sister in New York had sent word that I was caged, came over
from Newark to see me. He said he felt sorry for me, but that he was
"bound to put me through." He then asked me if I would go over to Newark
without a requisition from the Governor of New Jersey, and I told him I
would not; whereupon he went away without saying another word, and I
waited all day to hear from the lawyer to whom I had given twenty-five
dollars, but he did not come.</p>
<p>So next day when the brother came over and asked me the same question, I
said I would go; wherein I was a fool; for I ought to have reflected that
he had had twenty-four hours in which to get a requisition, and that he
might in fact have made application for one already, without getting it,
and every delay favored my chances of getting out. But I had no one to
advise me, and so I went quietly with him and an officer to the ferry,
where we crossed and went by cars to Newark. I was at once taken before a
justice, who, after a hearing of the case, bound me over, under bonds of
only one thousand dollars, to take my trial for bigamy.</p>
<p>If I could have gone into the street I could have procured this
comparatively trifling bail in half an hour; as it was, after I was in
jail I sent for a man whom I knew, and gave him my gold watch and one
hundred dollars, all the money I had, to procure me bail, which he
promised to do; but he never did a thing for me, except to rob me.</p>
<p>A lawyer came to me and offered to take my case in hand for one hundred
dollars, but I had not the money to give him. I then sent to New York for
a lawyer whom I knew, and when he came to see me he took the same view of
the case that Elizabeth and I did; that is, that the long separation
between my first wife and myself, and my presumed ignorance as to whether
she was alive or dead, gave me full liberty to marry again. At least, he
thought any court would consider it an extenuating circumstance, and he
promised to be present at my trial and aid me all he could.</p>
<p>I lay in Newark jail nine months, awaiting my trial. During that time I
had almost daily quarrels with the jailor, who abused me shamefully, and
told me I ought to go to State prison and stay there for life. Once he
took hold of me and I struck him, for which I was put in the dark cell
forty-eight hours. At last came my trial. The court appointed counsel for
me, for I had no money to fee a lawyer, and my New York friend was on hand
to advise and assist. I lad witnesses to show the length of time that had
elapsed since my separation from my first wife, and we also raised the
point as to whether the justice who married me, was really a legal justice
of the peace or not. The trial occupied two days. I suppose all prisoners
think so, but the Judge charged against me in every point; the jury was
out two hours, and then came in for advice on a doubtful question; the
judge gave them another blast against me, and an hour after they came in
with a verdict of "guilty." I went back to jail and two days afterwards
was brought up for sentence which was—"ten years at hard labor in
the State prison at Trenton."</p>
<p>Good heavens! All this for being courted and won by a widow!</p>
<p>The day following, I was taken in irons to Trenton. The Warden of the
prison, who wanted to console me, said that, for the offence, my sentence
was an awful one, and that he didn't believe I would be obliged to serve
out half of it. As I felt then, I did not believe I should live out
one-third of it. After I had gone through the routine of questions, and
had been put in the prison uniform, a cap was drawn down over my face, as
if I was about to be hung, and I was led, thus blind-folded, around and
around, evidently to confuse me, with regard to the interior of the prison—in
case I might ever have any idea of breaking out. At last I was brought to
a cell door and the cap was taken off. There were, properly no "cells" in
this prison—at least I never saw any; but good sized rooms for two
prisoners, not only to live in but to work in. I found myself in a room
with a man who was weaving carpets, and I was at once instructed in the
art of winding yarn on bobbins for him—in fact, I was to be his
"bobbin-boy."</p>
<p>I pursued this monotonous occupation for two months, when I told the
keeper I did not like that business, and wanted to try something that had
a little more variety in it. Whereupon he put me at the cane chair
bottoming business, which gave me another room and another chum, and I
remained at this work while I was in the prison. In three weeks I could
bottom one chair, while my mate was bottoming nine or ten as his day's
work; but I told the keeper I did not mean to work hard, or work at all,
if I could help it. He was a very nice fellow and he only laughed and let
me do as I pleased. Indeed, I could not complain of my treatment in any
respect; I had a good clean room, good bed, and the fare was wholesome and
abundant. But then, there was that terrible, terrible sentence of ten long
years of this kind of life, if I should live through it.</p>
<p>After I had been in prison nearly seven months, one day a merchant tailor
whom I well knew in Newark, and who made my clothes, including my wedding
suit when I married the Widow Roberts, came to see me. The legislature was
in session and he was a member of the Senate. He knew all the
circumstances of my case, and was present at my trial. After the first
salutation, he laughingly said:</p>
<p>"Well, Doctor, those are not quite as nice clothes as I used to furnish
you with."</p>
<p>"No," I replied, "but perhaps they are more durable."</p>
<p>After some other chaff and chat, he made me tell him all about my first
marriage and subsequent separation, and after talking awhile he went away,
promising to see me soon. I looked upon this only as a friendly visit, for
which I was grateful; and attached no great importance to it. But he came
again in a few days, and after some general conversation, he told me that
there was a movement on foot in my favor, which might bring the best of
news to me; that he had not only talked with his friends in the
legislature, and enlisted their sympathy and assistance, but he had laid
the whole circumstances, from beginning to end, before Governor Price;
that the Governor would visit the prison shortly, and then I must do my
best in pleading my own cause.</p>
<p>In a day or two the Governor came, and I had an opportunity to relate my
story. I told him all about my first unfortunate marriage, and the
separation. He said that he knew the facts, and also that he had lately
received a letter from my oldest son on the subject, and had read it with
great interest. I then appealed to the Governor for his clemency; my
sentence was an outrageously severe one, and seemed almost prompted by
private malice; I implored him to pardon me; I went down on my knees
before him, and asked his mercy. He told me to be encouraged; that he
would be in the prison again in a few days, and he would see me. He then
went away.</p>
<p>I at once drew up a petition which my friend in the Senate circulated in
the legislature for signatures, and afterwards sent it to Newark, securing
some of the best names in that city. It was then returned to me, and two
weeks afterwards when the Governor came again to the prison I presented it
to him, and he put it in his pocket.</p>
<p>In two days' time, Governor Price sent my pardon into the prison. The
Warden came and told me of it, and said he would let me out in an hour.
Then came a keeper who once more put the cap over my face and led me
around the interior—I was willingly led now—till he brought me
to a room where he gave me my own clothes which I put on, and with a kind
parting word, and five dollars from the Warden, I was soon in the street,
once more a free man. My sentence of ten years had been fulfilled by an
imprisonment of exactly seven months.</p>
<p>I went and called on Governor Price to thank him for his great goodness
towards me. He received me kindly, talked to me for some time, and gave me
some good advice and a little money. With this and the five dollars I
received from the Warden of the prison I started for New York.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />