In late 1769, Polly Stevenson met a man that wanted to marry her. William Hewson was a good catch for Polly, who by then was 30. He was on the verge of what would be a prominent career as a medical researcher and lecturer. “He must be clever because he thinks as we do,” Polly gushed in a letter from the country home where she was staying. But she played coy with Franklin by confessing (or feigning) her lack of enthusiasm for marrying Hewson. “He may be too young,” she told her older admirer.
Franklin, who had just returned from a trip to Paris, replied the very the next day with a letter that contained more flirtations than felicitations. “If the truth were known, I have reason to be jealous of this insinuating handsome young physician.” He would flatter his vanity, he said, by presuming “to suppose you were in spirits because of my safe return.”
For almost a year, Polly held off getting married because Franklin refused to advise her to accept Hewson’s proposal. Finally, in May of 1770, Franklin wrote that he had no objections. It was hardly an overwhelming endorsement. “I am sure you are a much better judge in this affair of your own than I can possibly be,” he said. As for her worry that she would not bring much of a financial dowry, Franklin could not resist noting that “I should think you a fortune sufficient for me without a shilling.”
Although he had missed the weddings of both of his real children, this was one Franklin made sure not to miss. Even though it was held in mid-summer when he usually traveled, he was there to walk Polly down the aisle and play the role of her father. A few weeks later, he professed to be pleased that she was happy, but he confessed that he was “now and then in low spirits” at the prospect of having lost her friendship. Fortunately for all, it was not to be. He became close to the new couple, and he and Polly would exchange more than 130 more letters during their lifelong friendship.
TO POLLY STEVENSON, MAY 31, 1770
Dear Polly,
I received your letter early this morning, and as I am so engaged that I cannot see you when you come today, I write this line just to say, that I am sure you are a much better judge in this affair of your own than I can possibly be; in that confidence it was that I forbore giving my advice when you mentioned it to me, and not from any disapprobation. My concern (equal to any father’s) for your happiness, makes me write this, lest having more regard for my opinion than you ought, and imagining it against the proposal because I did not immediately advise accepting it, you should let that weigh any thing in your deliberations.
I assure you that no objection has occurred to me; his person you see, his temper and his understanding you can judge of, his character for any thing I have ever heard is unblemished; his profession, with that skill in it he is supposed to have, will be sufficient to support a family; and therefore considering the fortune you have in your hands, (though any future expectation from your aunt should be disappointed) I do not see but that the agreement may be a rational one on both sides. I see your delicacy; and your humility too; for you fancy that if you do not prove a great fortune you will not be beloved; but I am sure that were I in his situation in every respect, knowing you so well as I do, and esteeming you so highly, I should think you a fortune sufficient for me without a shilling.
Having thus more explicitly than before given my opinion, I leave the rest to your sound judgment, of which no one has a greater share; and shall not be too inquisitive after your particular reasons, your doubts, your fears, &c. for I shall be confident whether you accept or refuse, that you do right. I only wish you may do what will most contribute to your happiness, and of course to mine; being ever, my dear friend,
P.S. Don’t be angry with me for supposing your Determination not quite so fixed as you fancy it.
TO POLLY STEVENSON HEWSON, JULY 18, 1770
Dear Polly,
Yours of the 15th. informing me of your agreeable journey and safe arrival at Hexham gave me great pleasure, and would make your good mother happy if I knew how to convey it to her; but ’tis such an out-of-the-way place she is gone to, and the name so out of my head, that the good news must wait her return. Enclosed I send you a letter which came before she went, and, supposing it from my daughter Bache, she would have me open and read it to her, so you see if there had been any intrigue between the gentleman and you, how all would have been discovered. Your mother went away on Friday last, taking with her Sally and Temple, trusting me alone with nanny, who indeed has hitherto made no attempt upon my virtue. Neither Dolly nor Barwell, nor any other good female soul of your friends or mine have been nigh me, nor offered me the least consolation by letter in my present lonesome state. I hear the postman’s bell, so can only add my affectionate respects to Mr. Hewson, and best wishes of perpetual happiness for you both. I am, as ever, my dear good girl, your affectionate friend,