Childhood

A spinster cousin of Sarah’s is listed in the city directory as living with the Bordens the following year, so it appears that Andrew hired her as housekeeper to help care for his daughters. But he may have believed the girls needed a more formal mother figure because two years later, a month before Lizzie’s fifth birthday, he married again, taking to wife Abby Durfee Gray, a 37-year-old mild-mannered woman he met at church.

As explored by the authors of Parallel Lives: A Social History of Lizzie A. Borden and Her Fall River, the reason for Andrew’s proposal of marriage was, of course, known only to Andrew and Abby. “That the bond was one of an affectionate nature bears consideration; Andrew may well have been enamored with his wife, the feeling reciprocated by the new Mrs. Borden … During an era when it was a common practice for a husband and wife to sleep in separate bedrooms, the Bordens chose to share the same bed.” And yet, Abby never became pregnant.

“Alternatively,” the authors continued, “the marriage may have been one of convenience, intended to benefit the Borden children by providing them with someone of their own gender to care for them and understand their needs, separating the father from the domestic aspects of their upbringing.” The intention for the union, the authors concluded, “remains a mystery, relegated to conjecture.”

The New Stepmother

According to Andrew’s brother-in-law Hiram Harrington, after the wedding, things went well in the Borden household, at least at first. “For several years, I guess, of his early marriage with her, everything was very, very pleasant, uncommonly so for a stepmother.” Young Lizzie, who could no longer remember Sarah, easily took to calling Abby “Mother.” But 14-year-old Emma, who had been devoted to Sarah, could not bring herself to call her new stepmother by that title, and simply called her “Abby,” placing herself on equal terms. Clearly, Emma never warmed to Abby, later saying, “we never felt she was interested in us.”

It could be that Abby was lacking maternal instincts and did little to inspire the affection of her stepdaughters, but it also could be that she simply never had a chance with Emma. As Mrs. Mary Livermore, the famous women’s rights advocate who had known Lizzie and Emma’s mother, remarked to the Fall River Herald before Lizzie’s trial. “Emma never ceased to regard Abby D. Borden as in some sense a usurper in the household in which at least one member cherished with jealous regard the sweet memories of a sanctified mother.” This is why the authors of Parallel Lives could say that Abby’s entrance into the family created a “harsh reality.” Emma, may have been “supplanted physically as the mother figure in the household by her father’s second wife, [but would] forever hold that position emotionally for her sister, Lizzie, at the expense of Abby D. Borden.”

Emma did go away to a college-level boarding school for a time. According to Stefani Koorey, writing in The Hatchet, “Emma attended Wheaton Female Seminary, in Norton, Massachusetts, from April 1867 until July 1868—four semesters in all—starting when she was but 16 years old,” and Lizzie was only 6 years old. It was a strict school with a tightly structured schedule and rigid rules of behavior, meant to educate young women in the classic subjects while also instructing them on the importance of prayer and religious devotion.

Emma’s departure left Lizzie alone in Abby’s care, and if the silver-plated cup Abby gave to Lizzie when she was 8 years old is any indication, they must have got along well enough during that time. But once Emma returned, Lizzie reverted to “going to my sister for most things.” By the time Lizzie reached adolescence, an antipathy for her stepmother had set in, as described by the principal of the Morgan Street School, where she attended the middle grades, to The Woonsocket Call, a Rhode Island newspaper.

Mr. Horace Benson, who knew the Borden family and had Lizzie as a student said, “as a pupil she was an average scholar, being neither exceptionally smart nor noticeably dull. She was subject to varying moods and was never fond of her stepmother. She had no hesitation in talking about her, and in many ways, showed her dislike of her father’s second wife.” As he had boarded at the next house but one next to Borden house, and as was his duty, he became acquainted with Abby D. Borden whom he grew to know as “a kindly hearted, lovable woman, who tried, but ineffectually to win the love of the stepdaughters. Still, the household was far from being an unhappy one.” 

Indeed, the Borden household was not that unusual in that the stepchildren, wounded by the loss of their mother, didn’t easily embrace the stepmother who, according to Mrs. Mary Brigham, was “mild and good,” and yet “not at all affectionate” in the reserved way of Victorian-era New England. The household was probably as content as most other households of that time and place, and with the industrious Andrew Borden on his way to amassing a small fortune in real estate holdings, it would appear Lizzie enjoyed a childhood of ever-growing privilege.

A 19th Century Fall River Girl

Parallel Lives, the remarkable history produced by the Fall River Historical Society, reveals that Lizzie’s childhood was almost certainly like that of her contemporaries. The book does talk about her “sensitive nature” and moodiness and quotes the story that came out about her in the Boston Herald in which her friends related that “her school days were perhaps unlike most girls in this lack of affiliation with her fellow pupils.” But the authors believe that common notion that Lizzie was largely friendless may have been an exaggeration and listed a number of girls Lizzie knew in high school who remained friendly with her even after she was accused of the murders and shunned by Fall River society. Indeed, she left several of her “old school mates,” including Addie Whipp and Lucy Macomber, decent sums in her will. We know that her longtime friends from childhood, Mary Ellen Sheen (Mrs. Brigham) and Augusta Poole (Mrs. Tripp), actively stood by her during her ordeal.

The diary of one of Lizzie’s friends in high school, Louisa “Lulie” Stillwell, which found its way into the possession of the Fall River Historical Society, offered glimpses into Lizzie’s life. The two girls occasionally walked each other home after school. At one point, Lulie wrote about Lizzie inviting her “on a ride” (whether horse or horse-drawn carriage is uncertain), but the plan was spoiled by weather. Lulie also described visiting Lizzie numerous times during the year Lizzie was 15-years-old, even bringing her flowers after Lizzie had taken a bad fall and was feeling “miserable.” Yet, in just about every visit to Lizzie, Lulie would describe her friend experiencing some kind of low, such as feeling “tired” (from taking a long walk the day before), or “feeling blue I should judge.” The authors of Parallel Lives concluded, “The picture painted suggests a somewhat melancholy character.”

Young Lizzie, her friends continued, “was a girl who set up ideals and then tried hard to reach them.” And she was apparently quite hard on herself when she didn’t live up to her own standards. Her friends noted that she had studied piano but “abandoned her lessons because … she conceived the idea that she was not destined to become a good musician. If she could not excel in this accomplishment, she did not wish to pursue the study, and so her friends heard her play thereafter but little.”

It seems Lizzie didn’t feel she excelled enough in academics either, because even though she was described as being “conscientious in her studies,” she stopped attending high school before graduating, a choice not unusual for young women at the time who had no designs on higher education. Lizzie’s later reputation as being “cultured” was obviously earned not through formal schooling but through her habit of voracious reading.

While Lizzie was said to have a fondness for reading popular romances along with the classics, she didn’t display an interest in cultivating any sort of romantic connection with the opposite sex, at least not as far as we know. Her friend Lulie’s diary was full of comments on mutual friends of theirs and their teenage interest in particular boys, but no such comment was recorded in the diary about Lizzie. After the murders, there would be occasional speculation on possible suitors, but there is no legitimate evidence of any real romantic relationships in her life. (The one exception might be her close, later-in-life friendship with actress Nance O’Neil.) Many have theorized, as did Mrs. Florence Brigham, the daughter-in-law of Mary Brigham, that “Lizzie’s father kept he out of circulation.” Whether true or not, we have no record of her being anything but content to remain a spinster like her older sister, Emma. From what we know, her energies were focused entirely on maintaining her friendships, attending church, and volunteering for different charities.

Her childhood ended with a literal bang. Just after her 18th birthday, she was spending part of the summer at Andrew’s farm in Swansea when a dramatic event shook the family. As reported by the Fall River Herald of August 3rd, 1878:

On Gardner’s Neck, Swansea, at 20 minutes past 7, lightning struck the summer residence of Mr. Wm. M. Almy of this city, tearing open the roof in several places, leaving holes large enough for a man to pass through and scattering the shingles in every direction. Seven persons were in the house at the time, but none of them were injured. Mr. Almy and his wife and three others were in the story below, within about fifteen feet of the lightning. He says when it struck the house, a black cloud seemed to fill the rooms for an instant, followed by a strong smell of sulfur. The family of Mr. Andrew Borden, who occupied the cottage adjacent, saw the bolt strike the house of Mr. Almy and for a few moments, were in an intense state of anxiety, fearing that some of the inmates were killed. Fortunately, however, no serious results were experienced by anyone on the premises, though all had a very narrow escape.