USA > Connecticut > New Haven County > Waterbury > The town and city of Waterbury, Connecticut, from the aboriginal period to the year eighteen hundred and ninety-five, Volume I > Part 58
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In the category of such semi-amusements as we have been consid- ering, it may not be unfair to include "going to funerals." When we consider how many people in modern life, especially in the smaller places, find a strange satisfaction in attending obsequies, it is per- haps no marvel that at this older period the custom had so univer- sal a vogue as almost to entitle it to be classed as an entertainment. The scene at a country funeral can easily be pictured to him- self by any one who is at all acquainted with rural New England to-day, so persistently does the custom survive. In summer the women crowded the house of mourning in decorous silence, while the men were gathered about the doorsteps in small groups, and some few sat upon the grass at a little distance or leaned against the fence. The eulogy of the departed at times occupied an hour
* See further, Vol. II, p. 62.
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in its delivery, and as a matter of course included a detailed per- sonal obituary .*
It must be noted before we leave the amusements of this period that it was at the very end of it that the travelling circus first made its appearance. It was of course a circus without a menagerie, but included a clown and an exhibition of minstrels. The main part of the programme was devoted to feats of strength and agility, and the band played as noisily then as now when the performer made his bow to the audience after the successful performance of his " act."
In passing next to the more formal life of the people, it may be said, perhaps to the surprise of some, that dancing was an amuse-
Quarter Ball. M? James "Harrison"
Is respectfully solicited to attend a Bull at D. Hayden's Ball Room on Wednesday, Feb. 5th, 1812, at 2 o'clock, P. M. x .
II. COOK. ) Mana- SA. SMITH, S. COUK, S gers. ¿ E. L. PORTER, Waterbury, Feb. 1S12.
ment not tabooed, even by the more strictly religious, until the latter part of our period. The balls were usually held in the state room of the tavern, at least in the smaller towns, but the larger residences often contained ball-rooms. This was true of the resi- dence of David Hayden, Esq., which stood on East Main street where the church of the Immaculate Conception now stands. We give, in fac-simile, an invitation to a ball at Mr. Hayden's residence, the original being in the possession of Mrs. S. E. Harrison. The dances in which our ancestors indulged were, of course, square dances and contra-dances, these last being such as the
* Funeral reform was not unheard of 130 years ago. The first number of the Connecticut Courant, dated at Hartford, October 29, 1764, says : "It is now out of fashion to put on mourning at the funeral of the nearest relation, which will make a saving to this town of {20,000 sterling per annum. "
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LIFE IN THE " AGE OF HOMESPUN."
Virginia reel and "money musk"-" straight figures," as they were called. The change in public opinion in regard to the propriety of dancing among religious people of the stricter view dates probably from the revival conducted here in Waterbury in 1817-18 by the Rev. Asahel Nettleton, the celebrated revivalist. As related in another chapter, Dr. Nettleton labored in Waterbury for some two years, and he produced a strong impression upon the religious views of those who came within the sphere of his influence. It is rather curious to note in this connection that Dr. Nettleton himself first felt what the old theologians called " conviction of sin " after attending a ball on Thanksgiving night in 1800. This was at North Killingworth, when Nettleton was a farmer's lad just about old enough to go to balls. His young companions at this time were making arrangements to establish a dancing school and naturally expected his cooperation. This he would not give them, although he refused to tell the reason. When later in life he became a revi- valist, his views on the subject of the sacrifice that Christians should make were so intense and severe that it is not remarkable that they led to a very general abandonmeut of dancing in those parts of New England where he preached. Here is a typical extract from one of his sermons:
For what does the sinner sell the blessings of the Gospel? Not for value · received, but for mere trifles-one morsel of meat-a momentary gratification- for these he parts with the joys of Heaven. It may be for the sake of present ease -or for a title of worldly honor-a puff of noisy breath-or perhaps for the sake of obliging a companion, who is the enemy of God-or for the sake of indulging some beloved lust. In the indulgence of these pleasures, the conduct of the sinner may be attended by the stings of conscience. It is true no one expects to complete the bargain. But many do it. Temptation comes and conviction goes.
The change of view during this period in regard to dancing is thus summarized by Professor Fowler of Durham in his "Notes," already quoted in this chapter:
Dancing was for a period a frequent amusement among the young people in most of the towns in the commonwealth of Connecticut. The people learned good manners, first from the district schools, secondly from public worship, thirdly from the military, and fourthly from dancing. But in time there grew up an opposition to dancing among certain religious people of the Congregational order. So great was the opposition that in some places it led to church censures. In one case, a deacon, an excellent man, at the marriage of his son took one or two dancing steps in passing through the room where they were dancing, to obtain his hat. For this he was brought before the church to make his confession. This he refused to do, declaring that he could not see any wrong in what he had done, but was willing to say that he was sorry that he had grieved any of the brethren.
Professor Fowler mentions a number of similar cases. One was that of a young lady, highly educated and of excellent character,
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who was also a member of the church, and who had attended a ball with the approval of her father and mother, they, too, being church members. One of the deacons of the church requested the pastor to commence proceedings of church disci- pline, but to his credit be it recorded that he refused to do it. Another is the case of a young man who was excommunicated for attending a ball which he had been admonished not to attend by some of his fellow church members. Professor Fowler adds:
Dancing masters were employed and dancing schools patronized by the people, though some had conscientious scruples concerning the practice. These scruples were in some cases, however, ingeniously put at rest. A miss of twelve from the country, spending the winter in New Haven, was sent by her friends in that city to a dancing school. This fact became known in due time to her neighbors in the country, one of whom said to her mother, while in company: "I hear that your daughter attends dancing school in New Haven." The mother evasively replied: "She attends a 'manner school.'" "Oh, is that all?" rejoined the neighbor; "it is a good thing to attend a manner school."
Professor Fowler also notes that dancing was not uncommon at weddings, and that the mirth was often uproarious. He makes this quotation from Mrs. Emma Willard's sprightly poem entitled "Bride Stealing":
Next creaked the tuning violin, Signal for dancing to begin- And goodly fathers thought no sin,
When priest was by, and at a wedding, Peggy and Molly to be treading.
Nay -- priest himself, in cushion dance,
At marriage feast would often prance.
The pair of course led up the ball, But Isaac liked it not at all. Shuffle and cut he would not do, Just bent his form the time to show, As beaux and ladies all do now; And when the first eight-reel was o'er, Stood back to wall and danced no more; But watched the rest above them rising, Now chatting-then thus criticising:
" When Christian fathers play the fool, Fast learn the children at such school; Better it were to mind the soul, And make the half-way covenant whole; And priest, when son like that he sees, Were best at home and on his knees."
In the early part of the period, in remote rural communities (a description which fits Waterbury at that time) the dancing was characterized by a simplicity that now seems almost incredible.
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LIFE IN THE " AGE OF HOMESPUN."
Unoccupied houses were often chosen as the scene of the dances, and the only refreshment was well water, which had to be drawn with an old-fashioned sweep. The girls of that time were not infre- quently accustomed to dance in their bona fide bare feet. It is always a subject of curious study to note the moral distinctions of any given period. At the very time when dancing came under the ban, when Sabbath-breaking was thought to be almost as heinous as house-breaking, and when card-playing was looked upon as wicked in the extreme, taking chances in a lottery was considered a per- fectly legitimate form of speculation. During the agitation against the established Congregational body, when the Episcopal church was so justly indignant at the few privileges granted to it (a subject which has been reviewed at length in the preceding chapter), license was granted to that body to "run a lottery" to increase the bishop's fund. In discussing this subject, in his address as president of the American Social Science association (1894), Frederick J. Kingsbury says:
There certainly is what may be called a fashion in morality. I had occasion not long since to examine the papers of a lawyer and judge who held a deservedly high social position in the community where he lived a hundred years ago. I was some- what startled, I might almost say shocked, at finding among them a great number of lottery tickets. But when I came to see the purpose to which the proceeds of the lotteries were to be applied, and remembered the history of the times, I was relieved. A hundred years ago the lottery was the popular form of benevolence. I found tickets in lotteries for building churches, endowing colleges and schools, building bridges, augmenting a fund for the support of a bishop -- for almost every form of worthy and commendable public enterprise. In the same receptacle, side by side with the lottery tickets, I found the record of a public prosecution against an individual for permitting a game of cards to be played in a private house. And I said, " Who are the righteous, and where are the foundations?" Like Mrs. Peter- kin, I sat down and thought, but with the same result that attended Sam Lawson's cogitations as described in " Oldtown Folks." "Sometimes," said Sam, " I think- and then again -- I don't know."
Consideration of the varying moral standards which obtain in different communities and at different times suggests naturally the different view of drinking and of drunkenness which then pre- vailed. The great temperance reform had its beginning in the ear- lier part of the century and belongs to the period of which we are writing. The main facts of that early agitation may be found in the chapter devoted to philanthropy and reforms. The extent of the drinking habit was such that one wonders why the reform did not find an earlier beginning. As a matter of course, the under cupboard in almost every household was well stocked with various kinds of liquors. Cider was the universal table bev- erage, and West India rum was in general use. Every laborer had
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HISTORY OF WATERBURY.
his half-pint per day, especially in summer weather, and to neglect to offer a drink to a friend was a confession of poverty few were willing to make. The ever present demijohn filled with rum stood always at hand for hospitality or for private use, and the morning dram was almost as regularly taken-by the men at least-as was the breakfast. At installations and at funerals alike the hospitable glass was passed frequently and potently. The Rev. Dr. John Todd of Pittsfield has testified to the fact that he once actually saw toddy mixed on the lid of the coffin. The following description of the Rev. Noah Benedict of Woodbury is representative of the period:
On general trainings, the band, with beating of drum and squealing of fife, formed in two lines before the parsonage. At this signal, the reverend clergyman proceeded to the making of a most bewildering mixture consisting of rum, and eggs, and sugar, and boiling water. Two huge handled glass mugs, daintily engraved in Old England, now received their fill of the drink of New England. The gentleman, in his long silken robe of ceremony, with cocked hat, silk stockings and silver shoe-buckles, made ready to go out and greet the band. One last cere- mony, one important touch, was given when with a red-hot iron he stirred up rap- idly that which now became flip! He bowed to the delighted men, took a swallow from each mug, and then passed them around until all had had a taste. Heading the procession, he next led them to the tavern, where he presided at dinner.
A curious text on which the preachers of that day, had they so de- sired, might have delivered a sermon on the evils of the social glass, is to be found in this extract from the Litchfield Monitor of May, 1793:
Died at Waterbury of intoxication, on the eve of the 21st, a smart, active negro girl of about nine years old, belonging to Mr. John Nicholls, at the house of the Rev. Mr. Hart, with whom she lived. Mrs. Hart was abroad, and Mr. Hart, quitting the house for a short time, to attend on some labor in a lot adjoining, inadvertently left a bottle of spirits uncorked in a closet to which she had access. On their return they found her inebriated to a very considerable degree, though not past speaking, and she disgorged, as they supposed, most of the stuff she had swallowed. She appeared out of danger and was permitted to sleep, but was soon lifeless. A physician could not restore her. This unusual accident is a serious admonition to parents and masters of children not to leave this more than common poison within their reach.
Such a naïve comment as this on so shocking a fatality well illus- trates the point of view of that day in regard to the practice of drinking. Spirits are actually called "poison," but the only caution suggested in regard to them is not to leave them where children can reach them. The popular drinks of that period, when something more elaborate was desired than cider or rum, were "Huxham's tincture," tansy bitters, and "Hopkins's elixir." French brandy was the luxury of the rich and wine was used for the sacrament alone. Every family made gallons of "elixir proprietatis," a dis-
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LIFE IN THE " AGE OF HOMESPUN."
gusting concoction for the more sensitive stomachs of to-day. The cupboard was adorned with beautifully engraved decanters, and beside them stood tall glass mugs, delicately etched, and slender- legged drinking cups. Usually, the most elegant piece of furni- ture in an ordinary home was this corner cupboard. The upper shelf was devoted to teacups and saucers of rare old china, by the side of which were the wine glasses, clear as crystal. Beneath were the quart and pint glass measures to hold flip and cider, many of them richly engraved, sometimes with a coat of arms. A piece or two of silver and some extra fine pewter filled the remaining space. In addition to what seems to us their shocking drinking habits, our ancestors made use of various semi-drugs in a manner no less shocking to our more æsthetic tastes. These included "camphire," " sal volatile," and rhubarb root-this last carried in every pocket and constantly nibbled at, and sometimes scraped off and roasted on a "peel" as a remedy for children with digestive ailments; also hartshorn and lavender for "the nerves." This list probably looks no more peculiar to us than will a list of many of the things we commonly use to-day to our remoter descendants.
The one conspicuous feature in the life of the period was the meeting-house. That life centered in the church to a degree that it is now hard to understand. As we have seen, it was the prelim- inary settlement which formed a new ecclesiastical society that led in the end to the independent town, and it was largely the agita- tion over church distinctions which brought about the adoption of a new constitution here in Connecticut. Devotion to the church found expression in the sacredness attached to Sunday observance, which is so marked a characteristic of the period. Custom founded on a strong public opinion kept those who might have otherwise protested against the exactions of the Sabbath from openly express- ing their views or acting upon them. What was called "desecra- tion of the Lord's Day" seldom occurred. Bronson's "History" gives the curious case of Isaac Bronson, a leading man here in Waterbury, who was convicted of doing "servile labor," before Timothy Hopkins, justice of the peace. Mr. Bronson's sister had been ill at the mother's, four miles out of town. She lived with him, and asked him to take her home on a pillion one Sabbath evening, which he did, as he declared, "without thought of harm." For this he was fined and debarred from the sacrament. He appealed the case, but the decision of the justice was sustained. This occurred in 1737, but the law which Bronson was convicted of breaking was still on the statute book in the earlier part of our period. This illustrates the extent to which the observance of the
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Sabbath could be legally enforced. A vivid picture of the country church of that day is given by A. Bronson Alcott, a native of Wol- cott, in his "New Connecticut":
The meeting-house (Wolcott) was a plain building without a steeple. The pews below were old-fashioned box or square pews, numbered on the doors, and the seat- ing of the members was according to their age, the elderly nearest the pulpit, the aisles leading to it being swept and sanded. The pulpit was very high, and beneath it, extending in front, were the seats for the deacons. The front galleries extended around three sides with raised seats behind and at the south end. Between the stairways were high seats for the young people who preferred them.
The scene in one of these churches is easy to be recalled: the older members of the congregation listening with strictest attention to the long prayer and the longer sermon-except where nature was too strong to be overcome and the drowsiness of rest after hard toil asserted its supremacy-and the "tithing-men " preserving order among the more irreverent youngsters. The spirit of fun was not wholly to be suppressed even under their system of discipline. The story was told even then with relish of how John Trumbull, the author of "McFingal," whose father was the pastor at Water- town, tied a wig of his father's on the head of the family dog and sent the animal to church. The dog stationed himself on the pul- pit stairs, out of the preacher's sight, where, however, he convulsed the congregation. When at last the preacher discovered the cause of the unseemly outbreak he simply shook his head, saying, in an aside: "That's some of John's work," and went on with his discourse. But an incident of this kind was so startlingly exceptional as to deserve quoting simply for that reason. Rarely did anything humorous break in to disturb the solemnity of a service in a New England meeting-house. The discomforts which were endured by attend- ants on worship at that time required a true Spartan spirit. In the winter, especially, the cold was intense in the unwarmed meeting- house and the worshippers sat through the long services, half be- numbed, although their sufferings were somewhat mitigated by the general use of foot-stoves. In summer there were touches to the scene which have now been almost forgotten, the long turkey- feather fans whose constant "swish " added new vigor to drowsi- ness, and the little pieces of fennel, dill and caraway, which were held in the mouth and called "meetin'-seed." As the hour for ser- vice arrived, the pastor entered the pulpit, clambering up a steep stairway and shutting himself in with small half-doors, under a great sounding-board that looked like a giant extinguisher. The congregation remained standing until the preacher reached his desk. After his acknowledgment they re-seated themselves, and
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LIFE IN THIE " AGE OF HOMESPUN."
he gathered his silken robe about him, and with dignity took his own seat. The singing would seem remarkable to modern ears. The hymns were mainly "deaconed off," two lines at a time-only a few in the congregation having hymn-books of their own. The choir was divided into four parts, being ranged on three sides of the gallery. The key-note was given by striking the tuning-fork on the choir rail or by a pitch-pipe. There were two services, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, with an hour between. The ordinary luncheon consisted of doughnuts and cheese and hot spiced cider. With this short interval for relief from the strain, the average New England household devoted hours in succession on Sunday to the cultivation of religious fervor and theological lore.
It was indeed a "land of steady habits" which thus comes to view. And the correctness of the familiar characterization is emphasized by the account of the state of society toward the close of the century, furnished in the following extract from the unpub- lished journal of Samuel Miles Hopkins, LL. D. (whose biography is given in Volume II, pages 823-825):
Farewell, Litchfield and Goshen, a country of storm and winter and frightful cold and snow, and of hardy, active, reading, thinking, intelligent men, who may prob- ably be set forth as the finest commonalty upon earth.
As an example take a glance at the state of society in Goshen. In that town of 1200 people there was no such thing as a poor or dependent family; no tenant, no rich man, except a single merchant. Every farmer tilled his 100 or 200 acres of land, chiefly with the labor of his own or his sons' hands. Until I left Connecticut I had never seen a person, male or female, of competent age to read and write, who could not do both. In different parts of the town were library associations, as is common in New England, and that in our neighborhood contained the most popu- lar works of history, many of the works of Addison and Pope, and some of Johnson, Hume, Blair, Beattie, etc., and they were much read.
I have attended an election there, and the decorum and order were not less than appears in divine service. No such thing as party was perceptible, even if there was a feeling of it. The man who should in any way, direct or indirect, by himself or his friends, have intimated a desire for office would by that very fact lose it. I remember hearing my father say of such a man that he "shook hands rather too much " and seemed to be fishing for popularity. If he had not shaken hands so much my father might have voted for him.
These habits produced a wise and stable government and a most perfect obedi- ence to the laws The admirable form of the old constitution of Connecticut was adapted to bring men forward slowly into public life and to keep them much under public view. When long approved, they held their seats very firmly; and the upper house (the senate) of that state has at times braced itself against the whole of pub- lic opinion and of the popular branch, and defeated an unwise but momentarily popular measure. It contained twelve men. My great-uncle, Joseph Hopkins of Waterbury, was elected a member of the legislature seventy consecutive times, that is, twice a year for upwards of thirty-five years (and my impression is, for thirty-six
35
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or thirty-eight years). George Wyllis of Hartford, the third of that family who was secretary of state, was elected to that office by the governor and council a little before he was twenty-one years of age, on the death of his father. But the election of secretary of state belonged to the people except in cases of vacancy ad-interim. The people then, by a general vote of the whole state, elected him to the same office sixty (or one or two more than sixty) successive years, and he died in office at upwards of eighty. Such were the habits of a people whose government was the most dem- ocratic of any on earth, except that of San Marino.
It is a homely rustic picture whose outlines have been roughly sketched in the foregoing pages. It is startling, when one stops to think of it, that it is a picture of life only a comparatively few short years ago, belonging to the early part of our own century. It is not a life that any of us would go back to, and yet, if it had not been lived here in New England, in all its God-fearing strictness and rigorous simplicity, this America of to-day could not have been what it is. There are certain things about it that we cannot recall without a sense of loss and a regret that they have ceased to be. There are certain picturesque touches which refine it, and in its quaintness it appeals to us even æsthetically. As Horace Bushnell said, in his discourse at the centennial celebration of Litchfield county on August 13 and 14, 1851:
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