Breach of promise lawsuit caused sensation in 1891

The following is a re-print of a past column by former Advertiser columnist Stephen Thorning, who passed away on Feb. 23, 2015. 

Some text has been updated to reflect changes since the original publication and any images used may not be the same as those that accompanied the original publication.

Most younger people probably have never heard of “breach of promise” suits. 

They were lawsuits brought against a man who had promised to marry a woman, but then backed out of the arrangement for whatever reason. The courts generally held that the woman and her family had suffered great injury to their reputations, and were therefore entitled to damages.

Though never common, 19th century court records are peppered with them. Breach of promise suits largely died out in the 1920s, but continued to be themes in drawing room comedies and cartoons for some years after that. 

Wellington County had its share of such lawsuits. Invariably they attracted a lot of attention; indeed, they were the rough equivalent of today’s stories of marital disharmony that are featured in supermarket tabloids. Everyone wanted to know more of the juicy details.

One of the more spectacular local cases came up at the 1891 spring assizes in Guelph. It was filed by Margaret Gray, who lived with her father Frank Gray on the family farm in Erin, at Con. 6, Lot 28, roughly half way between Hillsburgh and Orton. In the suit she complained that Jim Millar of Esquesing Township had promised to marry her and had helped her plan the ceremony, but had backed out of matrimony nine days before the scheduled date.

Most breach of promise suits involved people who were very young, and had decided to marry on a rash impulse before considering all the factors, or before other family members intervened. Margaret and Jim were not kids – both were roughly 30 years old at the time of the trial. The two probably met at some social or church function. In any case they saw one another regularly through the summer and fall of 1890. 

In October of that year Jim left a message for Margaret’s father, asking to speak with him. On Oct. 5 Frank Gray stopped at the Millar farm on his way home from Georgetown. The two had a conversation in the barn. Jim asked Frank for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Frank asked whether Jim’s parents were in agreement. When he replied that they were, Frank readily consented to the marriage, but warned Jim about the serious responsibilities involved.

The couple fixed the date for the ceremony for Jan. 28 of the following year. Jim continued to visit his bride-to-be every couple of weeks through the remainder of 1890, and they made plans for the wedding reception and for setting up their household. They bought furniture and sent out invitations.

As the plans progressed, Margaret became more and more demanding. She wanted everything done her way and refused to even meet Jim’s parents and family. Jim suggested that his sister Maggie should be a bridesmaid. Margaret and Maggie met in early January, and they got off to a very bad start. Maggie told her brother that she wanted nothing to do with the ceremony or with Margaret.

Jim wrote Margaret a note on Jan. 10, 1891, indicating that his sister would not be a bridesmaid, and that he was content to have Margaret select all of the bridal party. 

It appears that the two did not see one another until a week later, when Jim went up to call on her. That evening Margaret told him that her own sister had agreed to be a bridesmaid. She also said that her brother-in-law was having an auction sale on Jan. 28, the day scheduled for the wedding, and that she insisted on attending that sale. Margaret therefore wanted the date for the wedding changed to Jan. 27.

As an alternative, Jim suggested that they scale the ceremony down, and proceed on the original date. It was little more than a week away, and advising out-of-town guests of a change in dates at that point would be difficult. Margaret was having none of it. She would attend the auction sale, and nothing would change her plan.

That was too much for Jim. He left the Gray farm in a huff. The next night he penned a letter to Margaret. He told her that he had been thinking the matter over, and he had “come to the conclusion that if an auction sale is of more importance to you than what was to have come off, you can go to the sale and I will go my own road. If that is all you care for it you need not look to hear from me again.” He continued, “I have been meeting with nothing but opposition. If I should go on with it there is nothing but trouble ahead for us.” It seems that doubts had been surfacing in Jim’s mind for some weeks, but the auction affair was the last straw.

According to her father, Margaret could not be consoled when she received the letter. In tears, she took to her bed, and remained there for a couple of days. Frank Gray, on the other hand, was fuming, and set off at once to see Jim Millar. Belligerent and profane in his language, he intimidated Jim. To deflect his threats, Jim said that his parents were totally opposed to the marriage, and that they would disinherit him should he proceed with it.

Frank then had a chat with Jim’s parents, who were totally unaware of his new story. They put the entire blame on Jim, and even said that their son could be fickle minded.

Frank then went after Jim a second time, with a fresh round of tirades and profanities, before going back to his farm. A few days later he went to Guelph to see lawyer Hugh Guthrie, who prepared the papers for the lawsuit for breach of promise.

At the trial, on March 18, Margaret did not testify. There were only two witnesses: Frank Gray and Jim Millar. Gray was the first to take the stand and he explained, under Guthrie’s guidance, his version of events, supported by the letters sent to Margaret by Jim Millar.

The defendant hired a lawyer named Laidlaw from Toronto to defend him. It was a bad move. Laidlaw constantly referred to his client as “the boy,” attempting to convince the jury of his youthful innocence. But Millar looked to be every day of his 30 years, and the phrase soon elicited a round of titters in the court every time Laidlaw used it.

Millar did not use the defence that his parents were opposed to the marriage, as had been related in Gray’s testimony, but instead came up with a new story. Now he told how difficult and demanding Margaret was, that “she had it all her own way.” 

She had refused to meet his family, and had rejected a trip to the Canadian National Exhibition with him. On more than one occasion she had told him that she had always expected to find a better husband than himself. He had withstood all those insults, he told the court, but the auction sale affair was the last straw.

Things went from bad to worse for Millar under Guthrie’s cross examination. To the amusement of the overflow crowd, Guthrie exploited the inconsistencies of Millar’s version of events. The judge constantly banged his gavel and called for order. 

In summing up, Hugh Guthrie offered a tight, 20-minute argument in defence of the poor jilted girl. Laidlaw’s summation for Millar, on the other hand, was a long, rambling affair. He tried to argue that Millar was as upset over the cancelled marriage as Margaret. The jury could see otherwise, as Margaret sat amongst the spectators, dabbing at her eyes occasionally with a handkerchief.

Before sending the jury to their deliberations, the judge reviewed the evidence and the testimony. The jurors returned after a few minutes with a verdict in favour of Margaret Gray, awarding her $500 plus her legal costs. 

For Millar, considering the depressed economic conditions of the early 1890s, the award was a fortune, exceeding the net annual income of most farms. But perhaps, considering the alternative of a life with Margaret, he considered it a bargain.

*This column was originally published in the Wellington Advertiser on June 16, 2006.