EVERYDAY LIFE ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO.
=263. Our Country One Hundred Years Ago.=--Let us now take a hasty glance
backward for a century and note the vast changes that have taken place
in the matter of daily living during this time. Very different was the
country in which our forefathers lived from that with which we are
familiar. To be sure, there was a fringe of villages along the coast
from Maine to Georgia. Fifty miles back from the Atlantic the country
was for the most part an unbroken wilderness.
A few hundred settlers, and perhaps a hundred log cabins, made up a
village where now stands the great city of Cincinnati. Indians and
buffaloes roamed over the rich plains of the West which to-day furnish
grain for Europe. Only seven of the states then had well-defined
boundaries. Thousands of the marvelous inventions and discoveries which
have added so much to the comfort and convenience of life had at that
time no existence.
=264. Newspapers.=--Forty-three newspapers managed to survive the war of
the Revolution. Even the best of these were mean-looking, and printed
on poor paper. For the most part, they contained but four small pages,
and were issued not oftener than two or three times a week. As to
quantity of printed matter, they could not sustain comparison for one
moment with the newspaper of our time.
There was no such thing as an editorial page. All kinds of queer
advertisements there were; as, for runaway slaves or stolen horses:
tedious letters appeared, written to the editor from distant points:
treatises on geography and morals abounded instead of news. To fill out
space, the editor would occasionally reprint some standard historical
work or book of travels.
That material which gives the modern newspaper its peculiar value and is
now known under the general name of "news" was unknown. There were few
or no facilities for gathering facts as to the happenings of events or
the doings of individuals, communities, and nations; and certainly no
pains was taken to forward such material for publication.
=265. The Postal Service and Letter-Writing.=--In the early colonial times
there was no such thing as an official postal service. Up to the time of
the Revolution there were certain means provided for carrying letters,
but they were very meagre.
The postmen used to travel some thirty to fifty miles a day in good
weather. Letters were sent from New York to Boston three times a week
during summer, and twice a week in winter. Six days and even more were
required to make the journey. One pair of saddlebags easily contained
all the mail.
[Illustration: A DISCUSSION ON A FINANCIAL QUESTION OF THE TIMES.]
If such were the scanty mail accommodations of the chief cities, we can
imagine what they were in the small country towns. Sacks of letters and
papers are now easily carried in one afternoon farther than they were
then transported in five weeks. After the war, Washington had an
extensive and important correspondence with the influential men of the
country. In many of his replies he complained of the tedious delay in
receiving his mail. Well he might, for his letters were sometimes longer
in going from Mount Vernon to Boston than they would now be in reaching
China.
In remote sections the post-rider was often a decrepit man or some
crippled soldier. One old postman used to improve his time, as his horse
jogged slowly along, by knitting woolen mittens and stockings. There was
no special protection to the service. Letters and packages were opened
and freely read or examined by the carriers. So common was this evil
that the great men of this time used to correspond in cipher.
We may be sure that when it cost much to send letters, and the
difficulties of forwarding them were so many, the letter-writers of
those days took special pains to write long epistles, full of news.
People learned most of the news of the day from distant places, whether
it pertained to politics, society, or gossip, through faithful
correspondents.
Imagine a busy merchant in one of our great cities writing a business
letter, but giving most of the space to the results of the last
election, or the doings of the state legislature. The telegraph, the
telephone, stenography, and the typewriter of our day have
revolutionized business communication and much of personal
correspondence.
=266. The Stage Coaches.=--During the war of the Revolution, stages
stopped running between distant cities, and horseback traveling was
resumed. When peace was declared, the "coach and four" again took the
road. Boston and New York were then the two great commercial centers of
the country; yet during Washington's first term two stages and twelve
horses carried all the passengers by land between these two cities.
The stage coach at this time was not much better than a huge covered box
mounted on springs. There were no closed sides, glass windows, steps, or
doors. It was not to be compared for one moment with the far-famed
Concord coaches in after years. In summer an ordinary day's journey was
forty miles, but in winter only about one-half of this distance.
The stage started early each morning--often at three o'clock--and its
daily time limit was about ten at night. Often the passengers were
forced to get out and help lift it out of the mud or a deep rut. If
there were no unusual accidents or mishaps, it reached New York, from
Boston, at the end of the sixth day. Even at this snail pace the good
people used to wonder at the ease, as well as the speed, with which the
journey was made.
It is no wonder, then, that a journey to any remote place became a
serious matter. Prudent men, when ready to set out for a distant point,
arranged their business affairs for any emergency, made their wills,
and, after a formal dinner at the tavern, bade their family and
neighbors a solemn farewell.
=267. How Fires were put out.=--The law at this time compelled every man
to take an active part in putting out fires. He was obliged to keep at
least four leathern buckets hung up at some convenient place in his
house or shop, with his name painted on them, together with a big canvas
bag. When an alarm of fire was raised, either by vigorous shouts of
"Fire! fire!" or the ringing of the church bell, the good citizen seized
his fire buckets and his canvas bag, and, guided by the smoke or flame,
started for the scene of action.
There were no idlers at an old-time fire. Some rushed into the building
with their canvas bags and filled them with such movable goods as could
be readily carried in them. A double line extending to the water was
formed of men, boys, and even women. One line passed the full buckets to
those who were nearest the fire, while the other line returned the empty
vessels to the well or river.
Some of the larger towns boasted of a "fire engine." This was merely a
pump mounted over a tank, which the men kept full by pouring in water
from the buckets. The rich householder was allowed to send his slave or
servant to the fire with the fire buckets.
When the fire was out, the buckets were left in the road, to be picked
up and carried home by their owners. Persons who neglected to keep their
fire buckets in good order and in their proper places, or who failed to
carry them home after the fire, were fined.
=268. How Sunday was passed.=--The observance of Sunday began at sundown
on Saturday. The early part of the evening was devoted to family
worship, and shortly after eight o'clock all were in bed. No work except
such as was really necessary was done on Sunday. Most of the cooking was
done the day before. Each member of the family, unless sick in bed, went
to church. The farmer traveled on horseback with his wife on the pillion
behind.
The singers sat in the front gallery. The boys and young men had seats
in the left-hand gallery, while that on the right was occupied by the
young women. We have read in a previous chapter something about the
tithing-man and his duties. The short noon interval was devoted to
eating a cold lunch.
No meeting-house in those days was warmed. Old and feeble women were
allowed to use tin foot-stoves, filled with a few hot coals. In the
bitter cold months of a New England winter it was no trifling affair to
endure the actual suffering that accompanied religious worship on
Sunday. The story is told of a good minister in Connecticut who in the
depths of winter prudently preached in overcoat and mittens, but
complained that his voice was drowned by persons stamping and knocking
their feet together to keep warm.
=269. The Minister and the Meeting-Houses.=--The minister was always held
in high esteem. He was usually the most important man of the village,
and was looked upon with reverence not unmingled with awe. His authority
was almost supreme. If a person spoke disrespectfully of him, or even
laughed at his oddities, the offender was heavily fined. The advice of
the minister was often asked, and sometimes given unasked, on matters of
business as well as of religion. Fearless and resolute in what they
believed to be right, the influence of the ministers of that time in
public affairs was deservedly very great.
The minister's salary was but a pittance. It was never the same two
years in succession, and was rarely paid in cash. Donations of corn,
beans, turnips, and other farm products were usually given in place of
hard money.
The sermon was the one event of the week. Every well person in the
village turned out to hear it. Copious notes were taken, and its various
points furnished topics for fireside discussion during the week.
=270. How the Doctors healed the Sick.=--The village doctor, together with
the minister and schoolmaster, held a high social rank. There were only
two medical colleges in the country, and these were not well attended.
Medical books were scarce and costly. Even the best doctors could not
boast of a medical library of fifty volumes.
[Illustration: A VILLAGE MAGNATE RIDING IN THE OLD-TIME CHAISE.]
The future doctor served his time as a student with some well-known
physician. He ground the powders, mixed the potions, rolled the pills,
cleaned the bottles, tended the night bell, and otherwise made himself
useful. If the young student had a good preceptor and was gifted with a
keen observation and a retentive memory, he returned to his native town
or went elsewhere fairly prepared to begin practice.
There were no drug stores in those days, and each doctor was his own
apothecary. He ground his own drugs, made his own tinctures, salves, and
plasters. Most of the medical preparations used then would not be
tolerated to-day.
Then as now the country doctor used to ride night and day, year after
year, whatever the weather or the condition of the roads, to attend the
good people of his neighborhood. He received, as he richly deserved, the
respect and affection of his patients for his life of hardship and
self-denial.
=271. How the Schoolmaster taught School.=--Besides the doctor, minister,
and lawyer, the village schoolmaster was socially and otherwise an
important man. He was usually a student who was "working his way"
through college, and who sought, by teaching winters and working on a
farm in summer, to defray his expenses at Yale, Dartmouth, or Harvard.
In many of the school districts he was expected to "board round." That
is, he lived with the parents of his pupils, regulating his stay
according to the number of the children of the family who attended
school.
[Illustration: AN OLD SOLDIER FIGHTING HIS BATTLES OVER AGAIN.]
In those days there were large families and many children, and the young
schoolmaster was a welcome guest. The best room in the house, the
warmest corner by the fireplace, and the choicest food were reserved for
him. During the long winter evenings he discussed theology and politics
with the fathers, played games with the children, and escorted the girls
to "spelling matches" and "quilting bees."
=272. The Everyday Home Life.=--Such conveniences and comforts as are now
found in almost every home were then unknown. Cooking stoves, matches,
refined sugar, sewing machines, and kerosene oil had never been heard
of. The mechanic's home had no carpets on the floor, no pictures on the
walls, no coal in the cellar, no water faucets in the kitchen. Fruits
and vegetables, now so cheap in their season, such as tomatoes, oranges,
bananas, celery, and dates, were either quite unknown or beyond the
reach of scanty means.
The farmers of a century ago ate plain food and wore plain clothes.
Their daily fare was usually salt fish, salt pork, beef, a few
vegetables, and dried apples. The numerous farm implements, which have
done so much to cheapen food and to bring thousands of acres into a
state of high cultivation, were not yet invented.
The well-to-do farmer managed to pick up a great deal of general
information and news of the day. He was noted for an inquiring turn of
mind. He could tire out the weary visitor or stranger on the road with
numberless questions on current social, political, or religious topics.
At times he would unbend enough to play "fox and geese" with his
children, or attend "apple bees" and corn huskings.