Postseparation Conflicts and Public Intimidation in Late Eighteenth-Century Copenhagen

Introduction

In 1795, the Copenhagen City Council was formally authorized to grant incompatible married couples “separation from bed and board,” that is, separation without annulment of marriage. However, in practice, the City Council was actively involved in reconciling spouses and providing opportunities for separation throughout the century. The Council's processing of Copenhageners’ applications for separation formed the basis for the king's separation licenses; the Council communicated the license to the couple and was instrumental in the parties’ agreement on the division of property, debt distribution, and children. The Council was involved every step of the way, so to speak.

What happened when the agreements were not honored? While this may seem like an obvious question, it has received little in-depth exploration. In general, early modern postseparation conflicts have largely been overlooked in scholarship. This study explores a series of previously unexamined complaint cases to illuminate key aspects of disputes brought before the City Council by separated spouses. We demonstrate how the Copenhagen City Council played a decisive role in enforcing agreements and settlements, actively shaping the regulation of separated parties’ behavior. In these negotiations between complainants, defendants, and the City Council, moral arguments, emotional narratives, and vivid accounts of personal conflict emerged as powerful tools for those involved.

The City Council as Mediator

The City Council of Copenhagen was appointed by the king to handle the administrative management of the city, and consisted of the Lord Mayor, two or three mayors, and a changing number of deputy mayors and aldermen. Being a member of the City Council was a public duty and only the highest positions were paid. The City Council met at Copenhagen City Hall two or three times a week, where incoming cases were considered, and decisions were recorded in the so-called resolution protocols. These proceedings often involved oral negotiations between the parties. In complaints concerning marriage and separation, both spouses presented their arguments to the councilors. Most cases were initiated with a written complaint to the City Council, which was sometimes followed up with written counter-complaints. However, some complaints were also presented orally to the Council, without prior written communication.

The complaints reflect the City Council's obligation to reconcile disagreeing spouses, intervene against improper behavior between spouses, and counteract self-initiated separations. In a royal ordinance to the City Council of February 16, 1753, it was stated that misunderstandings and disagreement between spouses due to one or the other's “dissolute, wicked and lecherous way of life and behavior” were increasing in the city. ¹ Therefore, the City Council was instructed to investigate the allegedly increasing number of cases where married couples “of their own will without previous sentencing or the permission of the authorities” separate, run away from each other, and in the absence of the spouse with the help of friends remove things from the estate so that there is nothing left for the other. It was implicit in the ordinance that regulations were not followed, and that the City Council and the chief of police dispensed at will and turned a blind eye to the situation. This was not entirely wrong. There is substantial documentation that the City Council allowed situations where the spouses lived separately by agreement without interference from the authorities. ²

Separation applications were processed by the City Council before they were sent to the king, that is, the Danish Chancellery. The separation license was granted based on the City Council's statement on the case, which affirmed the complainant's integrity and preferably included evidence that the Council had repeatedly admonished the accused spouse to reform. Grants of separation were communicated to the couple by the City Council. ³ From the mid-century, separation was granted frequently and had, to a large extent, become a matter of expedition, even to such an extent that from 1768, the Chief Secretary of the Danish Chancellery signed the separation orders without the King's consent. Essentially, there were two types of grants. Either in the form of confirmations of already concluded separation agreements on the division of the estate and the upbringing of the children, which spouses had signed and submitted, or as actual grants based on applications.

In an instruction dated August 28, 1795, the City Council was, as mentioned, authorized to grant incompatible spouses separation from bed and board (para 8). ⁴ The arrangement was repeated in an ordinance of May 23, 1800, which stated that the City Council could grant separation without royal confirmation to married couples “when they cannot by mediation be brought to reconciliation and to live in agreement with each other.” ⁵ Thus, the City Council's prior attempts at mediation and reconciliation were emphasized as prerequisites for the grant. Separation meant that the spouses could live separately and, with the intervention of the City Council, make agreements on maintenance, child support, and so on. However, marriage was not formally dissolved, and those separated could not remarry. Regular dissolution of marriage by divorce could only be done by judgment or royal decree. Until 1771, divorce in Copenhagen was under the jurisdiction of the church-run Tamperret at the University of Copenhagen. After that, decisions in marriage cases were made by the lowest urban court of law, the Royal and City Court (Hof- og Stadsretten), or by royal decree.

The number of separation licenses has not been calculated for the eighteenth century, that is, until the right to a license was introduced in 1795. ⁶ However, in connection with a debate on separations at the beginning of the nineteenth century, the judicial assessor Andreas Bjørn Rothe counted the number of marriage cases brought before the City Council in the period 1775–94 to compare it with the number of separations after 1795. ⁷ He counted a total of 2,234 complaints to the City Council regarding marital disagreements. Rothe pointed out that marriage cases could involve many issues that were not necessarily linked to a separation application. In a statement made at the request of the Danish Chancellery, the City Council stated that in the period 1788–94, it carried out 118 separations of married couples, not counting royal grants of separation or dissolution of marriage. ⁸

In the same way that Copenhageners approached the City Council with separation applications, they went to the City Council when it came to matters that occurred after separation had been granted. This was both because the City Council was the infrajudicial institution that many Copenhageners turned to when conflicts and problems needed to be resolved without involving legal courts and because the request could be seen as a continuation of the separation case that the City Council had been involved in. ⁹ It is these inquiries that interest us.

Narrating Complaints

Literature on marriage and divorce in the early modern period has become more extensive. ¹⁰ Studies of early modern separation and divorce practices deal with issues as diverse as confessionalization, legislation, economics, authorities, and courts’ handling of the cases or the reasons given by the parties involved in wanting a divorce. Geographical differences, secularization, and gender have, for good reason, been central to the analyses. The focus has primarily been on the processes leading up to divorce, or the divorce procedure itself. Here, we will concentrate on a particular category of matrimonial cases, namely complaints from separated spouses about behavior and events that took place after the separation. As Iris Fleßenkämper has pointed out, very few studies have addressed the conditions that prevailed between separated spouses after the separation agreement was signed. ¹¹ In the Danish-Norwegian context, there are no specific studies on this topic.

As part of a larger study of complaint culture in Copenhagen, we analyzed complaints from the period 1716–1800. In an average year, the City Council received around 500 complaints, 13 percent of which concerned marital problems. ¹² Some of these complaints are applications for separation, but there are also frequent complaints about specific problems such as financial irresponsibility, violence, drinking and bad behavior, where the purpose is not separation but a request for help from the City Council to improve the spouse. ¹³ The complaints came from the middle and lower social ranks of the Copenhagen population and thus provide an insight into the marital relationships of people who do not normally feature prominently in either source material or research literature, but who made up the majority of the city's population: craftsmen, servants, workers, and traders.

In this article, we focus on complaint cases that allow us to say something about the behavior that took place between separated spouses and how this was described by the parties. This means, firstly, that these are cases where there is a finalized separation grant from the City Council and where there are enclosure documents that can be used as evidence. This group consists of twenty-two complaint cases filed over the second half of the century (1753–800), of which we highlight eleven to outline common features of the narratives (i.e., cases where original complaints and other documents have been preserved, not just record entries). Fifteen complaints were filed by women, while seven were filed by men. The City Council's resolution was not recorded in four of the cases, while three were referred to the legal courts, after meetings were held with the parties. In the remaining cases, the City Council decided, sometimes after repeated hearings. The material does not allow for a sharp thematic division of the complaints, as the subjects of the complaints overlap and often relate to several things simultaneously. Economy, household, personal honor, slander, security, and peace are recurring themes that characterize the complaint narratives. Neighborhood and community play a role mainly in the complaints about incidents that happened in public on the street, in a house, or in a pub. A common feature is noncompliance with established rules and regulations, which gives the complainant the opportunity to refer to meetings and agreements made with the City Council, thus bringing authorities into the case complex. Highlighting that an opposing party did not comply with the City Council's orders was a common rhetorical strategy. ¹⁴

We examined the narrative structure of complaints, highlighting the central role of situational descriptions and the incorporation of witness testimonies. From an assessment of handwriting, writing style, and phraseology, there are strong indications that a number of complaints to the City Council (in general) were written by someone other than the complainants, whether semi- or fully professional scribes or a literate friend or family member. How does the uncertainty of authorship affect the interpretation of complaints as source material? First, it must be emphasized that complaints are linguistic constructions that are both communicative and performative in the sense that they both outline a problem and attempt to achieve something through the organization of a narrative about a condition, a phenomenon, or a process. A complaint is not, necessarily, a window into the soul of the complainant or a documentation of life circumstances. On the contrary, filing a complaint with a public authority must often be considered part of a strategic, instrumental use of institutions to settle a conflict or gain leverage over the counterparty. ¹⁵ To paraphrase Steven King, complaint narratives could be “fictive and confected,” but they were “not fictional or invented.” ¹⁶

Secondly, it is obvious that many complaints were created in collaboration with others than the complainant; family, friends or neighbors may have contributed. In other words, a collective process where several people have provided input, helped the complainant to recall and formulate the grievances. ¹⁷ It has been argued, in connection with a study of petitions, that it is not necessarily challenging to separate the petitioner's voice from the scribe's influence. Perhaps, this is not that important. Petitioners and complainants had all sorts of reasons to emphasize a particular version of their story, so it becomes important for us to examine how and by what means they did this. ¹⁸

Complaints cannot necessarily be used to say anything solid about what actually happened in the situations described in detail, but rather to gain knowledge about the beliefs, norms, and values of the societies under investigation. Complaints could be highly tendentious and were created to put the complainant in the best possible light, and can be seen as indicators of what was expected of standard and good behavior in everyday life. Early modern women and men often had a good sense or understanding of how institutions such as the City Council functioned. At least enough to know how to influence the system to their own advantage. ¹⁹ They could draw on a wide range of cultural narratives to organize their stories to achieve specific goals. ²⁰ Complainers or writers drew on prevailing notions of human characteristics or used rhetorical devices inspired by existing texts. As Steven King mentions, writers combined a personalized and self-referential narrative with a frame of reference that connected to broader textual and conceptual understandings. ²¹ The versions of themselves that complainers brought to life on paper were rooted in prevailing perceptions and narratives of human attributes and justice. ²² The narrating self did not seek to obliterate itself in the complaints but instead gave itself space. As in pauper letters and other similar types of writings, there were a number of “veiling techniques” with performative elements, in which a certain version of the self is projected, while other elements are omitted and concealed. ²³ In this regard, it is important to emphasize that the self-presentation of many complaint letters strives to present a person or self in their own right, not just a complainant tout court. The complainant does not embody the complaint and its content but a person seeking justice and clarification.

Household and Neighborhood

Notions of gender roles and household play a crucial, often implicit, role in the complaint narratives. Complaints about postseparation conflicts must, like any marriage-related issues, be understood within the framework of the household, the core of eighteenth-century patriarchal Lutheran society. ²⁴ But while Lutheran doctrine, absolutist legislation, and ideals of social order shaped normative expectations, everyday life in Copenhagen often diverged considerably from these ideals. It can be argued that many eighteenth-century urban households were significantly more diverse and unorthodox than more normative representations of the household-state complex would suggest. ²⁵ Therefore, the concept of household is used in very elusive, as well as allusive, ways in the complaint narratives.

Most urban family conflicts were resolved informally, relying on ingrained notions of authority, responsibility, and hierarchy. However, in many postseparation cases, individuals turned to the City Council for intervention, as when candlemaker Engel Lynge, in a complaint to the City Council from April 1790, asked that his weekly financial contribution to his separated wife Johanne be reduced. ²⁶ According to the complaint, on September 2, 1785, he was granted permission to “live separately” from his wife in return for contributing to her and the children. But in 1786, the children were taken from her because she “in an unseemly and unchristian manner mistreated” them, not giving them enough to eat and neglecting their education. He took the children into care and then paid a reduced weekly amount to his wife. With this arrangement, he hoped to get some peace from her, which she had also promised the City Council, and that she would find something to do “whereby she without scandalization could live as a single woman.” This sentence carries significant weight: First, despite the separation, they were still seen as connected—at least in the sense that her actions could still reflect on him as her husband. At the same time, it is suggested that the situation the wife would find herself in as partially self-supporting could be perceived as socially stigmatizing. As we shall see, it was a recurring theme that separated working women were subjected to suspicion and hostility from their former spouses.

Lynge quickly reached the heart of his complaint: his wife drinking. According to him, every week when she received her money, she would spend the following days in a drunken stupor, behaving erratically. Attached testimonials supported his claims. The situation had escalated to the point where she was sentenced to fourteen days on bread and water by the Police Court. In retaliation, she later filed a complaint against him, accusing him of mistreating their children and squandering their joint estate. However, after hearing the witness testimony, the case was dismissed, as Lynge claimed that the accusations were baseless. Frustrated by these events, he asked for her allowance to be either revoked or halved, arguing that “straitened circumstances can teach her to work and keep her from drunkenness”—and, by extension, from the “dishonorable vices” it led to. ²⁷ His complaint painted Johanne as an irresponsible mother whose alcoholism not only prevented her from maintaining a stable income but also led to immoral behavior. Lynge justified his request by suggesting that reducing her alimony would force her to reform. However, the City Council rejected this request, refusing to reduce Johanne's financial support.

The mentioned appendices consist of undated testimonials from three people who confirmed that Lynge lived properly and without conflicts with the neighbors. He raised his children with sufficient teaching and provided them with proper clothing and food. Also attached was a letter from saddler Mogens From dated November 22, 1788, that is, a year and a half before the complaint. This testimonial was most likely used in connection with one of the earlier cases mentioned by Lynge. Saddler From reported that Lynge had lived “here in the street” (Lille Kongensgade) for ten years and raised his children decently. This letter also emphasized Lynge's sociability and good relations with his neighbors: he has “always sought friendship with neighbors and fellow residents.” It is repeated how, because of his behavior, he “attracts the favor of all neighbors” because he has taken such good care of the children since they returned to him. These are neighborhood testimonials about Lynge; they confirm that he does not disturb the order that should prevail in a neighborhood; on the contrary, he contributes to its maintenance with his exemplary lifestyle.

Saddler From went on to say that Lynge's “fatal fate” was his wife, who constantly tried to ruin him with accusations and by coming to his house and making a racket and chasing people away, “thereby ruining his trade.” Mogens From then recounted the incident mentioned in Lynge's letter: On one Sunday evening, From visited Lynge's house, where his wife was seated at the table, scolding Lynge and his servants. Despite Lynge's polite requests for her to leave, she refused, forcing him to have her arrested. A provision dealer and a tavern keeper from the street supported this account with their signatures—once again, neighbors backing Lynge's case. The records indicate that Johanne had to leave their home and candle-making business after the separation, with Lynge being responsible for finding her new lodging. She likely knew these neighborhood witnesses from her time in Lille Kongensgade.

A month after Lynge's complaint, Johanne filed a counter-complaint seeking a complete divorce, citing financial and material hardship. For six years, she had been “evicted from her home and business,” which, she argued, her husband had exploited to her and their children's detriment. She demanded that he be held accountable for their joint property as she still considered herself entitled to an equal share of the candle-making business and residence. She also claimed that she was unsafe due to her husband's manipulations, which she believed were intended to provoke her and deprive her of the alimony she received weekly. Despite the City Council's order for him to secure her housing, he failed to do so, forcing her to find lodging herself. Consequently, she applied for permanent divorce and control over the house and business for her and her children's welfare. Johanne concluded with a series of moral accusations that the husband and an unnamed woman's “bad treatment” should not be a burden on the city. Her moral argument for divorce was the conditions that prevailed in the husband's household, where “my own sister's stepdaughter, who called herself Swedish Inger,” had served with Lynge and, in that period, had two children. Similarly, the girl Dorthe, who was also in service in the Lynge household, had been pregnant twice during her employment. “But I don't know where the children have gone,” Johanne wrote, indicating foul play, and at the same time explaining how unpleasant it was to see and hear that “such women are raising my children” when you “are concerned with the welfare of your legitimate children.” ²⁸

According to Johanne, Lynge's household was a hotbed of dubious pregnancies and possible feticide. In other words, he did not maintain order in the household, and she accused him of being a bad householder who did not live up to his obligations. The parents’ Christian obligation to provide for their children's moral upbringing was also used as an argument: that their children born within a legal marriage had to live in such a depraved household was undermining their upbringing and constituted a tremendous emotional burden for her. She suggested that she would be able to maintain a decent household if she herself was installed as the head of the candle business and owner of the house.

Johanne's brother, speaking for their five siblings, reinforced her complaint, questioning why she had been evicted from her home and livelihood. He accused her husband of tyrannical treatment, citing witness testimony, despite the absence of a formal verdict. Unable to stay with her husband, Johanne and her children moved into a rented room in her brother's building in Christianshavn, while her husband remained in their home in Lille Kongensgade, which she claimed as rightfully hers. Feeling unsafe due to his “tricks and intrigues,” she faced ongoing harassment. Her brother and siblings demanded Lynge's public condemnation and Johanne's permanent separation, along with the return of her home and children. ²⁹

In response to the counter-complaints from Johanne and her brother, Lynge wrote another letter in which he focused on the City Council. His wife and brother-in-law tried to “incommode” the City Council with their complaints “filled with pure malice and fiction” to “incite the City Council with anger against me” and also destroy his credit and good name with “slanders in the city” so that he was considered to be riff-raff. Although they were continually rebuffed in their complaints and admonished for their behavior, they continued for the worse. He wondered why they dared to write so mendaciously to the City Council as, for example, the complaints that he was called to respond to. ³⁰ Lynge indirectly portrayed the importance of appearing advantageously in front of the City Council. However, the case had become so complicated that the City Council referred the parties to the courts.

This case shows that marital problems were not just personal. Neighborhoods and families were mobilized by the parties, and letters, testimonials, and counter-complaints were issued, containing serious accusations. Lynge actively used neighborhood acquaintances to undermine Johanne. As pointed out by Bernard Capp regarding early modern England, women often faced severe disadvantages in personal disputes with men in the neighborhood due to deeply entrenched patriarchal structures and cultural norms. ³¹ Indeed, this was the case for Johanne. Furthermore, slander was brought up as undermining people's reputations and, thus, finances. From said that Lynge's “fatal fate” was his wife, who constantly tried to ruin him, partly with accusations, partly by coming to his house and making a racket and chasing people away, “thereby wasting his living,” just as slanders in town ruined his credit and reputation. Johanne also emphasizes the financial aspect by saying that she has been put out of her line of business.

Johanne had argued that her husband was unfit to maintain a decent household—a moral claim echoed in a 1790 complaint from hackney coachman Rose on behalf of his sister against her separated husband, alderman and master blacksmith Stick. ³² Their separation agreement stipulated that Stick would dismiss the maid, Charlotte Weisholt, and not employ her in the future. Rose, acting as his sister's guardian, had “consented” to the separation, seemingly agreeing to let her move in with him afterwards. Stick was also to pay his wife 100 rix-dollars annually. However, as soon as Rose collected his sister, Stick reinstated Weisholt and had, for three months, “lived a spooning life” with her—behavior Rose condemned as dishonorable and financially reckless. He feared that Stick's lifestyle would drain his resources, leaving nothing for alimony. Yet beyond financial concerns, Rose's complaint also carried a strong sense of personal and familial honor.

Stick responded to the complaint with a quibble. He acknowledged the agreement not to employ Charlotte Weishaupt but pointed out that it did not prohibit her from living in his house “under other conditions than as a servant.” Furthermore, he argued that since Rose and his sister had not yet approved the alimony document, they had effectively voided the existing agreement, stating, “when the cause ceases, the effect cannot take place, and when one party fails to fulfill their obligation, the other is not bound either.” Stick was using a contractual argument here. Dismissing Rose's claims about his indulgent lifestyle as mere imagination, Stick insisted he had never lived more peacefully. He now had the “peace of mind” he had long lacked, allowing him to stay home, focus on his profession, and improve both his “credit and constitution,” which he claimed had suffered due to his wife's way of life. He also refused to provide security for future alimony, as this was not stipulated in their agreement. Concluding his defense, he urged the City Council to order Rose to “keep calm and leave me alone.” Stick placed the blame for his past unrest and disorder squarely on his separated wife, portraying her as the true obstacle to the domestic stability he now enjoyed.

From then on, the case continued with back-and-forth inquiries and demands for copies of each other's letters. In one of the letters, Stick began with the words: “As I have always placed my honor in the fulfillment of my duties, and dare to flatter myself that I am thus known by the high City Council.” He believed that the case against him was only intended to “injure” him and degrade him before his high authority and waste his credit among fellow citizens. ³³ Stick here addressed the destructive potential of complaints; when a man was suspected through a complaint, his public reputation suffered.

All parties argued based on reputational and financial considerations, an aspect that also emerged in the previous case. Rose believed that Stick's finances were suffering from his debauched life with his former maid, which would have consequences for his separated wife. Conversely, Stick believed that he could better manage his business and get his finances in order now that he was free of his troubled wife. At the same time, he said that the ex-wife and brother-in-law's complaints undermined his reputation and, therefore, his finances.

Both Lynge and Stick framed their cases around moral and economic concerns, portraying their separated wives as threats to their livelihoods and standing in the community. Johanne and Rose's sister used similar arguments to challenge their husbands’ credibility and assert their right to financial support and property. The recurring themes of slander, honor, and household management reveal that separation did not sever the social and financial ties between former spouses. Instead, it triggered ongoing negotiations, in which credibility before the City Council and the public was of vital importance. Ultimately, these cases underscore how gender, reputation, and economic survival were inextricably linked in disputes over marriage and separation.

Slandering

In the above cases, it was argued that slandering before the City Council had negative consequences for the defendants’ reputation and thus for their earnings. This was a recurring argument. For women, separation often meant a decline in their standard of living and social position. The relatively high number of complaints about the nonpayment of alimony shows how dependent separated women were on their husbands’ willingness and ability to live up to the agreements. Working separated women were particularly vulnerable, as shown in the following three examples.

Based on a complaint from Karen Christine Jensdatter about her husband written on July 1, 1800, the City Council granted separation just three days later. ³⁴ In her complaint, Jensdatter described how she had lived “a most deplorable life” during the eighteen years she had been married to Jørgen Mogensen Kure, the tower watch at the church, Vor Frue Kirke. Drinking and violence were the order of the day, and he had incurred debts and even borrowed money from her relatives. The complaint also stated that they had a son. At the meeting with the City Council they were separated, and it was decided that he should pay her an amount of two marks a week, and she was allowed to take her clothes, linen, a chest of drawers and a bed from the estate. He kept the rest and also had to guarantee the debts that existed.

However, just three months later, Karen Christine Jensdatter again complained to the City Council. She asked for her separated husband to be called to the town hall to recant the “illegal accusations” he had made against her. ³⁵ He behaved “disgracefully” toward her, and his actions were unbearable. He could not control his “untameable wickedness” and spread the vilest lies about her in the town about whoring and stealing—and that he could have her put in the House of Correction as soon as he wanted, but that he had failed to do so out of kindness. She emphasized that the City Council knew that it was she who had initially complained about him and that there was nothing to blame her for. Because he could not act openly, the husband had chosen “the serpent's ways and slanders me in the dark,” so wherever she went, she was exposed to unfair reproaches.

Because she could not possibly live on the two marks he was obliged to give her weekly, she had to support herself by washing for people. For an “ambitious woman”, nothing could be worse than to see her only means of livelihood destroyed by “the slanders of a shameless man.” In addition, he treated their son, who was to stay with him after the separation, extremely badly, and did not make the slightest provision for him for his upcoming confirmation, “which must offend the heart of the mother.” According to a resolution from the City Council, he was to pay all the debts and rent, but he would not do so. He threatened to withhold these two marks. She asked the City Council to intervene so that “I unhappy woman would not be purely destroyed.”

The close connection between reputation and ability to work was again brought up, just as Karen's complaint spoke directly to the City Council and its handling of the separation case. Furthermore, emotional markers were used extensively in the complaint: violated mother's heart, unhappy wife, and so on. Kure rejected his ex-wife's complaints, which he described as lying accusations, and rejected the accusations of spreading rumors about her. ³⁶ Kure responded in writing and did not recall the allegations. It is unclear whether this case went any further.

Slander was also a problem for Cicilia Margrethe Lassen de Ermandinger—and again, her husband's statements were linked to sexual and moral accusations. ³⁷ In her 1761 complaint against her ex-husband, former linen merchant Lars Christian Lassen, she said that he “in the most shameful way slandered her and the child” to the landlord couple she was staying with. He had even threatened the couple with punishment and said that his ex-wife would be banished from the city or put in the Børnehuset, a house of correction. She asked to be relieved from his “overflow and shameful dishonorable behavior” so that she could “earn her bread in such manner as she intends to defend” in peace. The ex-husband accused Cicilia of prostitution in carefully chosen terms without being explicit. His threats of punishment against the landlord couple were about procuring, while the talk that Cicilia would be banished from the city or put in the Børnehuset were examples of two traditional punishments for prostitutes. ³⁸

The case shows that it was not without problems when separated women wanted to be “on their own hand,” as it was called, that is, support themselves by working in rented accommodation. Strong social control made unmarried or separated women look suspicious, which could be used as a tool in personal conflict, as in this case, and could also be considered counterproductive in terms of women's ability to support themselves. Ten years after Cicilia's complaint during the short-lived Struensee regime (1770–2), the Lord Mayor of Copenhagen issued instructions to the Chief of Police stating, among other things, that he should not “worry about what one or the other lives on, or whether a woman is on her own or not.” Not having to worry about whether a woman was on her own meant that an unmarried woman could live on her own and support herself by working without being attached to a household or being in permanent service. This was a break with the idea that unmarried women were, in principle, to be regarded as vagrants—and not infrequently as prostitutes—if they were not attached to a father, a master or a husband. ³⁹ The provision broke with the prevailing Lutheran view of the household's social function and was seen by Struensee's critics as a direct invitation to prostitution. ⁴⁰ Whether or not the ex-husband's accusations were true, the example shows how vulnerable women were in situations like Cicilia's. But the City Council wanted to protect Cecilia and called the separated husband, who was told to leave her alone. ⁴¹

A final example of slander complaints from separated women is Anne Kirstine Tofte's case, filed on July 16, 1794. ⁴² She described how her separated husband repeatedly harassed her, causing disturbances at her home and drawing crowds of street urchins whenever he confronted her in public. This pattern persisted throughout the ten-year separation. He sought her out at her workplace, accusing her of theft and adultery, even alleging that she had stolen laundry from the very place where she worked as a washerwoman. During the previous winter, while she was hospitalized due to illness, he spread rumors that she was being treated for “Francoser”—a term for venereal disease. She did not know where he was living but pleaded with the City Council to free her from such a “mad, drunken, and vile person” so she could live in peace at home and in the streets. The records do not indicate the council's decision, leaving the outcome unknown.

An obvious question is why these men behaved in this manner. One likely interpretation is that their actions were a response to the perceived loss of honor and authority that came with losing control over their wives. Perhaps, in their view, undermining their separated spouses lessened their own humiliation; if they could tarnish their reputation, their own loss might seem less severe. In the cases discussed, defamation primarily targeted women's sexual behavior, aiming to discredit them both in their workplaces and within their communities. These women worked as laundresses—one of the lowest-paid occupations—where trust was essential, as clients entrusted them with valuable clothing and linens. As separated women, they lacked the protection of their husbands or guardians, making the City Council their only recourse for support. ⁴³

The City Council had a particular duty to protect society's most vulnerable, as explicitly stated in a 1795 directive, which instructed the Council to show “particular care” in cases involving widows, minors, the poor, and the defenseless. When such individuals were “oppressed and insulted,” the Council was to facilitate reconciliation, and if that failed, assist them in obtaining legal aid from the Chancellery. This codified an existing practice, as many complainants—especially women—appealed to the Council by emphasizing their financial hardship. With no means to pursue justice in the courts, they viewed the City Council as the “court of the poor,” their last and only hope for redress. ⁴⁴

House and Street Peace

As seen in the above complaint from Anne Kirstine Tofte, she asked the City Council for help to achieve “house and street peace” (hus- og gadefred), that is, domestic and public peace. ⁴⁵ A number of complainants used the term house and street peace as a descriptive category referring to the harassment and stalking-like behavior of a separated spouse, where people visit their former spouses at their residence or waylay them on the street. The disruptive behavior of separated spouses at each other's residences strained the lodger's relationship with the landlord couple, increasing the risk of eviction. ⁴⁶ In addition, of course, there was the unpleasantness of the physical and verbal assaults that could take place in this connection. ⁴⁷ In connection with these complaints, in most cases the City Council ordered the visiting party to stay away from the complainant who asked for “protection.” ⁴⁸

In a handful of complaints, we can get a little closer to the situations where house and street peace was disturbed—or at least the complainants’ interpretations of the situations. After complaining, in 1790, Anne Dorothea Iborg was allowed by the City Council to live apart from her husband, shoemaker Carl Frederik Iborg, “until further notice” due to his drinking and violent behavior. At a meeting with the City Council, it was decided that she would support the couple's three small children and that she would, therefore, be granted a weekly allowance from her husband and also be allowed to take some furniture from the estate. ⁴⁹ However, things did not go smoothly. In an undated complaint in the case file, she said that the husband came to her house with people she did not know and demanded that she give him a drink. However, he was previously forbidden from coming to her house, so she did not want to give him anything. But when one of the others asked for a drink, she had to pour for him. When they had drunk, the man and his friend began to make noise, “grabbed me by the chest and hit me with clenched fists on the head and chest and pinched my arm.” He acted like a “furious” person, so she thought he was going to murder her if someone had not intervened. Another complaint from Anne Dorothea Iborg, dated January 11, 1790, said that her husband would not leave her alone and threatened revenge. ⁵⁰ She asked that he be ordered not to enter her house because she feared for her life. The City Council summoned the husband and ordered him to stay away from her.

In a complaint from 1790, midwife Karen Margaretha Rasmussen Sandbom said that she had been separated from her husband since 1787 and had previously been married to him for nineteen years. ⁵¹ For the last eight days, her husband had come to the house where Karen lived. He stayed partly in the pub that her landlord kept, and partly on the staircase in the house. Here he uttered “his usual malice,” and especially last Saturday night he used “the most lecherous and coarse words” like whore and harlot against her. On the same occasion, the husband said that she had been pregnant twice since the separation and “each time had the fetus cut out of her womb,” that is, criminal abortion. His behavior caused a riot at the pub, and Karen wondered why the watch did not restore order. When the watchman finally showed up, he took Anders Rasmussen with him and went to a “drinking house.”

At the separation, the City Council had admonished him under the penalty of punishment not to seek her out, but it must have “slipped his mind,” as she wrote ironically. She, therefore, asked that the City Council again emphasize that he should stay away from her and their child. She enclosed testimonials from previous landlords describing her as a “proper and decent” and “honorable” wife, respectively. There was also a certificate from the current landlord, Mr. Munck, who told of the incident mentioned in the complaint, where he and other people had to throw Andersen out of the house because he had tried to force his way into Karen's home. Later, he made such a “riot” that the whole street was filled with people, and the landlord was afraid that his house would be destroyed, so he unsuccessfully tried to call a watchman with a whistle. Only later did the watchman arrive and left in the company of Andersen.

The complaint also referred to a certificate from Dr. Buchave stating that her husband's treatment of her caused her so much grief that it made her ill. ⁵² Furthermore, the testimonial refuted the allegations of the two pregnancies. The City Council called the parties and ordered the man to stay away from her and we also see a letter from the Danish Chancellery asking the City Council to warn the ex-husband to remain calm. Again, we see how the City Council helped and acted as a protector of the women from their separated husbands.

Rebecca Borck said in a complaint that four years ago she had separated from her husband, with whom she was reasonably at peace until last Christmas, when both her parents died. ⁵³ Since then, he has been “pleading” for her to come back to him so that he could feed what little she had left of her parents. For the sake of her child, she could not and would not obey him. He did not give her even “the smallest penny” for the child. She was now constantly watched over and followed by him in the street. It happened the other night, for example, when she had gone to visit some acquaintances, where the husband intruded and scolded her as a whore “with the most terrible noise.” She immediately left the place, but he pursued her with the noise, the scolding, and the beatings to “my aunt's door” in a nearby street, where he even followed her up to the aunt's apartment and hit the aunt on the arm with his cane. Every evening, he would watch her outside the house where she lived. She was neither safe in the house nor on the street, which was why she asked the City Council to call him in. She offered to appear with witnesses herself. She also asked for him to give her a weekly payment for the upbringing of their child, “and to let me learn the art of midwifery freely and unhindered, without thereby in the same way occupying me.” He apparently attempted to prevent this. Again, this was about the husband seeking to destroy the possibility of independence of the separated wife. The City Council summoned them, and the husband was ordered to stay away from her.

As can be seen from the above cases, with the exception of the complaint from candlemaker Lynge, women complained about harassment and stalking by their separated husbands. However, there were also complaints from men who wanted the City Council's help to reprimand their separated wives for similar offenses. In one complaint, block cutter Christian Berg asked that his divorced wife Maren Madsdatter be summoned and admonished to stay away from him and his home. ⁵⁴ Against the separation agreement, his wife had entered his home several times “and used several insulting expressions.” A few days ago, she arrived when he was not at home and demanded that the maid bring their two children to her. Fortunately, he wrote, the maid refused to hand over the children. According to the separation agreement, he was the breadwinner, but he also felt a strong paternal love for them, and it would be “highly emotional” for him if they had been removed in his absence and without his knowledge. They were called before the City Council, and at the meeting he promised that she would be allowed to see the children.

In 1761, sailmaker Poul Kiærulf filed a complaint against his wife, Marthe Pedersdatter, and her mother, accusing them of mistreatment and public humiliation. Their conflict had been going on for years. A year earlier, Marthe had petitioned for her inheritance to be protected from Poul and his creditors, citing his “bad way of living.” ⁵⁵ The City Council forwarded her request to the Danish Chancellery, which ruled in her favor, securing her inheritance and seemingly prompting her to leave Poul. ⁵⁶ It seems that Marthe then moved away from Poul, who just under two months later petitioned the king, arguing that his “wicked wife and mother-in-law” had falsely accused him of immoral behavior, leading to a royal decision that deprived him of his rights to her inheritance. ⁵⁷ He criticized the City Council for favoring his wife without hearing his side. The Council dismissed his complaint and later refused to intervene when he sought help in preventing further conflict. Poul, however, refused to accept this outcome. ⁵⁸

Poul saw things differently, and in a complaint from early March 1761, he put his frustrations into words. He began his complaint by referring to his two previous complaints about his wife and mother-in-law. ⁵⁹ Their actions against him were against “all divine and secular laws” and were instigated by his mother-in-law. He referred to “the most painful feeling of the unfounded divorce my wife and her mother have willfully caused” contrary to “the sacred covenant of marriage.” Poul considered the separation wrongful, and at a later stage, he also called it “self-made” on Marthe's part. It was common practice for a separation order to be granted even if one spouse did not agree or wanted to separate. ⁶⁰ Poul obviously found this difficult to accept.

He had tried “with the greatest love” to put Marthe's mind at ease. According to him, she had shown signs of forgiving everything that had happened and “agreed that they could greet each other affectionately and talk to each other as husband and wife when they met en passant” in the streets. He was, therefore, very surprised when, a few days later, he met her “in the public square” and addressed her “affectionately,” and found his wife and mother-in-law “transformed into two furies with the harshest expressions and threats against me” on the pretext that they enjoyed the City Council's protection. He accused his mother-in-law of orchestrating the situation and described how his wife initially showed signs of reconciliation, greeting him affectionately in public. However, soon after, he claimed that she turned hostile, calling him a “cowardly boy,” and threatening him with violence if he came near her mother's house. Poul lamented that despite his repeated efforts, he was persecuted by an “ungodly and obstinate” wife and mother-in-law.

He urged the City Council to force Marthe to return to him and ban her mother from interfering. If this was not possible, he requested a formal divorce through the church court. Their disputes continued, with Poul accusing Marthe and her mother of ruining him financially and endangering their child's well-being. ⁶¹ He feared the child's moral and physical corruption due to their “evil and outrageous” influence. Forced to live with various acquaintances, Poul claimed that his wife and mother-in-law harassed him in the streets with insult and mockery. Despite the multiple hearings, no resolution was achieved. In 1763, two years after his initial complaints, Poul petitioned the City Council, asking that his wife be forced to reunite with him or, failing that, for the Council to recommend his case to the king.

This example, as well as the harassing men in the other complaints, suggests that the men were reacting against women's rights and agency in relation to separation. As previously mentioned, there was equality between men and women regarding access to separation. Women could bring the case themselves without having to bring a guardian, as was the case in other civil court cases. ⁶² When Kiærulf spoke of the wife's “arbitrary separation” and “unfounded divorce,” it reflected frustration that a woman could leave her husband regardless of how he perceived the marriage.

The cases discussed illustrate how separation did not always lead to a clean break between spouses, but instead sparked ongoing conflicts, often manifesting as harassment, public confrontations, and attempts to undermine the other's reputation. Women, in particular, faced relentless stalking and verbal abuse from separated husbands who sought to limit their independence and disrupt their livelihoods. The concept of house and street peace emerged as a crucial legal category, with complainants appealing to the City Council for protection against intrusive and sometimes violent spouses. While men also filed complaints such as Kiærulf's case, their grievances often reflected frustration over the shifting power dynamics of separation. The ability of women to initiate separation without male guardianship challenged traditional notions of male authority within marriage. When men spoke of arbitrary separations or accused their wives of self-made divorces, they revealed a deeper anxiety about losing control over their marital status and household affairs.

Conclusion

This study highlights the complexities of postseparation conflicts in eighteenth-century Copenhagen, revealing that separation did not necessarily bring resolution, but often led to ongoing disputes, harassment, and attempts to undermine former spouses. The City Council played a pivotal role in reconciling these conflicts, serving as an infrajudicial institution that both men and women turned to for protection, justice, and enforcement of agreements. For women, separation often came with economic vulnerability, social stigma, and ongoing harassment, particularly from estranged husbands who saw their independence as a threat. Many of these women worked in precarious occupations where trust and reputation were essential. Accusations of sexual misconduct and dishonor were common tactics used to destabilize them, reinforcing the intersection of gender, morality, and economic survival. Meanwhile, men who resisted separation frequently framed their grievances around lost authority and household control, revealing deeper anxieties about shifting marital power dynamics. The recurring themes of slander, financial disputes, and physical intimidation demonstrate that marriage was not simply a private relationship, but a public and social contract. Complaints to the City Council illustrate how individuals strategically framed their narratives to align with contemporary moral and legal expectations, seeking legitimacy and support. These cases offer valuable insights into early modern gender relations, legal culture, and the lived experiences of separated spouses navigating a world where personal conflicts were deeply entangled with economic stability, reputation, and social order.