Part 4 (1/2)
The ministers might well argue that no one suffered more from the freezing atmosphere than they did. In many records I find that they were forced to preach and pray with their hands cased in woollen or fur mittens or heavy knit gloves; and they wore long camlet cloaks in the pulpit and covered their heads with skull caps--as did Judge Sewall--and possibly wore, as he did also, a _hood_. Many a wig-hating minister must, in the Arctic meeting-house, have longed secretly for the grateful warmth to his head and neck of one of those ”horrid Bushes of Vanity,” a full-bottomed flowing wig.
On bitter winter days Dr. Stevens of Kittery used to send a servant to the meeting-house to find out how many of his flock had braved the piercing blasts. If only seven persons were present, the servant asked them to return with him to the parsonage to listen to the sermon; but if there were eight members in the meeting-house he so reported to the Doctor, who then donned his long worsted cloak, tied it around his waist with a great handkerchief, and attired thus, with a fur cap pulled down over his ears, and with heavy mittens on his hands, ploughed through the deep snow to the church, and in the same dress preached his long, knotty sermon in his pulpit, while fierce wintry blasts rattled the windows and shook the turret, and the eight G.o.dly, s.h.i.+vering souls wished profoundly that one of their number had ”lain at home in a slothfull, lazey, prophane way,” and thus permitted the seven others and the minister to have the sermon in comfort in the parsonage kitchen before the great blazing logs in the open fireplace.
Ah, it makes one s.h.i.+ver even to think of those gloomy churches, growing colder, and more congealed through weeks of heavy frost and fierce northwesters until they bore the chill of death itself. One can but wonder whether that fell scourge of New England, that hereditary curse--consumption--did not have its first germs evolved and nourished in our Puritan ancestors by the Spartan custom of sitting through the long winter services in the icy, death-like meeting-houses.
Of the insufficient clothing of the church attendants of olden times it is unnecessary to speak with much detail. The goodmen with their heavy top-boots or jack-boots, their milled or frieze stockings, their warm periwigs surmounted by fur caps or beaver hats or hoods; and with their many-caped great-coats or full round cloaks were dressed with a sufficient degree of comfort, though they did not possess the warm woollen and silken underclothing which now make a man's winter attire so comfortable. They carried m.u.f.fs too, as the advertis.e.m.e.nts of the times show. The ”Boston News Letter” of 1716 offers a reward for a man's m.u.f.f lost on the Sabbath day in the street. In 1725 Dr. Prince lost his black bearskin m.u.f.f, and in 1740 a ”sableskin man's m.u.f.f” was advertised as having been lost.
But the Puritan goodwives and maidens were dressed in a meagre and scanty fas.h.i.+on that when now considered seems fairly appalling. As soon as the colonies grew in wealth and fas.h.i.+on, thin silk or cotton hose were frequently worn in midwinter by the wives and daughters of well-to-do colonists; and correspondingly thin cloth or kid or silk slippers, high-channelled pumps, or low shoes with paper soles and ”cross-cut” or wooden heels were the holiday and Sabbath-day covering for the feet. In wet weather clogs and pattens formed an extra and much needed protection when the fair colonists walked. Linen underclothing formed the first superstructure of the feminine costume and threw its penetrating chill to the very marrow of the bones. Often in mid-winter the scant-skirted French calico gowns were made with short elbow sleeves and round, low necks, and the throat and shoulders were lightly covered with thin lawn neckerchiefs or dimity tuckers. The flaunting hooped-petticoat of another decade was worn with a silk or brocade sacque. A thin cloth cape or mantle or spencer, lined with sarcenet silk, was frequently the only covering for the shoulders. In examining the treasured contents of old wardrobes, trunks, and high-chests, and in reading the descriptions of women's winter attire worn throughout the eighteenth and half through the nineteenth century, I am convinced that the only portions of Puritan female anatomy that were clothed with anything approaching respectable regard for health in the inclement New England climate were the head and the hands. The hands of ”New English dames” were carefully protected with embroidered kid or leather gloves (for the early New Englanders were great glove wearers) or with warm knit woollen mittens, though mittens for women's wear were always fingerless. The well-gloved hands were moreover warmly ensconced in enormous stuffed m.u.f.fs of bearskin which were almost as large as a flour barrel, or in smaller m.u.f.fs of rabbit-skin or mink or beaver. The goodwives' heads bore, besides the close caps so universally worn, m.u.f.flers and veils and hoods,--hoods of all kinds and descriptions, from the hoods of serge and camlet and gauze and black silk that Mistress Estabrook, wife of the Windham parson, proudly owned and wore, from the prohibited ”silk and tiffany hoods” of the earliest planters down through the centuries'
inflorescence of ”hoods of crimson colored persian,” ”wild bore and hum-hum long hoods,” ”pointed velvet capuchins,” ”scarlet gipsys,” ”pinnered and ta.s.selled hoods,” ”s.h.i.+rred l.u.s.tring hoods,” ”hoods of rich pptuna,”
”muskmelon hoods,” to the warm quilted ”punkin hoods” worn within this century in country churches. These ”punkin-hoods” were quilted with great rolls of woollen wadding and drawn tight between the rolls with strong cords. They formed a deafening and heating head-covering which always had to be loosened and thrust back when the wearer was within doors. It was only equalled in shapeless clumsiness and unique ugliness by its summer-sister of the same date, the green silk calash,--that funniest and quaintest of all New England feminine headgear,--a great sunshade that could not be called a bonnet, always made of bright green silk s.h.i.+rred on strong lengths of rattan or whalebone, and extendible after the fas.h.i.+on of a chaise top. It could be drawn out over the face by a little green ribbon or ”bridle” that was fastened to the extreme front at the top; or it could be pushed in a close-gathered ma.s.s on the back of the head These calashes were frequently a foot and a half in diameter, and thus stood well up from the head and did not disarrange the hair nor crush the headdress or cap.
They formed a perfect and easily-adjusted shade from the sun. Masks, too, the fair Puritans wore to further protect their heads and faces,--masks of green silk or black vehet, with silver mouthpieces to place within the lips and thus enable the wearer to keep the mask firmly in place. Sometimes two little strings with a silver bead at one end were fastened to the mask, and seined as mouthpieces. With a string and bead at either corner of the mouth the mask-wearer could talk quite freely while still retaining her face-covering in its protecting position. These masks were never worn within doors. In the list of goods ordered by George Was.h.i.+ngton from Europe for his fair bride Martha were several of these riding-masks, and the kind step-father even ordered a supply of small masks for ”Miss Custis,” his little step-daughter.
In bitter winter weather women carried to meeting little foot-stoves,--metal boxes which stood on legs and were filled with hot coals at home, and a second time during the morning from the hearthstone of a neighboring farm-house or a noon-house. These foot-warmers helped to make endurable to the goodwives the icy chill of the meeting-house; and round their mother's foot-stove the s.h.i.+vering little children sat on their low crickets, warming their half-frozen fingers.
Some of these foot-stoves were really pretentious church-furnis.h.i.+ngs. I have seen one ”bra.s.sen foot-stove” which had the owner's cipher cut out of the sheet metal, and from the side was hung a wrought bra.s.s chain. By this chain, a century ago, the s.h.i.+ning polished bra.s.s stove was carried into church in the hands of a liveried black man, who held it ostentatiously at arms' length, that neither ash nor scorch might touch his scarlet velvet breeches. And after he had tucked it under my lady's tiny feet as she sat in her pew, he retired to his freezing loft high up among the beams,--the ”n.i.g.g.e.r Pew,”--where, I am sorry to record, he more than once solaced and warmed himself with a bottle of ”kill-devil” which he had smuggled into church, until he fell ignominiously asleep and his drunken snores so disturbed the minister and the congregation, that two t.i.thingmen were forced to climb the ladder-like staircase and pull him down and out of the church and to the neighboring tavern to sleep off the effects of the liquor. For being ”a man and a brother” and, above all, in spite of his petty idiosyncrasies, a very good and cherished servant, he could not be thrust out into the snow to freeze to death.
But with the extreme Puritan contempt of comfort even foot-stoves were not always allowed. The First Church of Roxbury, after having one church edifice destroyed by fire in 1747, prohibited the use of footstoves in meeting, and the Roxbury matrons sat with frozen toes in their fine new meeting-house. The Old South Church of Boston was not so rigid, though it felt the same dread of fire; for we find this entry on the records of the church under the date of January 10, 1771: ”Whereas, danger is apprehended from the [foot] stoves that arc frequently left in the meeting-house after the publick wors.h.i.+p is over; Voted, that the Saxton make diligent search on the Lord's Day evening and in the evening after a lecture, to see if any stoves are left in the house, and that if he find any there he take them to his own house; and it is expected that the owners of such stoves make reasonable satisfaction to the Saxton for his trouble before they take them away.”
In Hardwicke, in 1792, it was ordered that ”no stows be carried into our new meeting-house with fire in them.” The Hardwicke women may have found comfort in a contrivance which is thus described in by an ”old inhabitant:”
”There to warm their feet Was seen an article now obsolete, A sort of basket tub of braided straw Or husks, in which is placed a heated stone, Which does half-frozen limbs superbly thaw.
And warms the marrow of the oldest bone.”
In some of the early, poorly built log meeting-houses, fur bags made of coa.r.s.e skins, such as wolf-skin, were nailed or tied to the edges of the benches, and into these bags the wors.h.i.+ppers thrust their feet for warmth.
In some communities it was the custom for each family to bring on cold days its ”dogg” to meeting; where, lying at or on his master's feet, he proved a source of grateful warmth. These animal stoves became such an abounding nuisance, however, that dog-whippers had to be appointed to serve on Sundays to drive out the dogs. All through the records of the early churches we find such entries as this: ”Whatsoever doggs come into the meeting-house in time of public wors.h.i.+p, their owners shall each pay sixpence.” Sixpence seems little, but the thrifty and poor Puritans would rather freeze their toes than pay sixpence for their calorific dogs.
The church members made many rules and regulations to keep the cold out of the meeting-house during service-time, or perhaps we should say to keep the wind out. Thus in Woodstock, Connecticut, in 1725 it was ordered that the ”several doors of the meeting-house be taken care of and kept shut in very cold and windy seasons according to the lying of the wind from time to time; and that people in such windy weather come in at the leeward doors only, and take care that they are easily shut both to prevent the breaking of the doors and the making of a noise.” In other churches it was ordered that ”no doors be opened to the windward and only one door to the leeward”
during winter weather.
The first church of Salem built a ”cattied chimney twelve feet long” in its meeting-house in 1662, but five years later it was removed, perhaps through the colonists' dread lest the building be destroyed by a conflagration caused by the combustible nature of the materials of which the chimney was composed. Felt, in his ”Annals of Salem,” a.s.serts that the First Church of Boston was the first New England congregation to have a stove for heating the meeting-house at the time of public wors.h.i.+p; this was in 1773. This statement is incorrect. Mr. Judd says the Hadley church had an iron stove in their meeting-house as early as 1734--the Hadley people were such sybarites and novelty-lovers in those early days! The Old South Church of Boston followed in the luxurious fas.h.i.+on in 1783, and the ”Evening Post”
of January 25, 1783, contained a poem of which these four lines show the criticising and deprecating spirit:--
”Extinct the sacred fire of love, Our zeal grown cold and dead, In the house of G.o.d we fix a stove To warm us in their stead.”
Other New England congregations piously froze during service-time well into this century. The Longmeadow church, early in the field, had a stove in 1810; the Salem people in 1815; and the Medford meeting in 1820. The church in Brimfield in 1819 refused to pay for a stove, but ordered as some sacrifice to the desire for comfort, two extra doors placed on the gallery-stairs to keep out draughts; but when in that town, a few years later, a subscription was made to buy a church stove, one old member refused to contribute, saying ”good preaching kept him hot enough without stoves.”
As all the church edifices were built without any thought of the possibility of such comfortable furniture, they had to be adapted as best they might to the ungainly and unsightly great stoves which were usually placed in the central aisle of the building. From these cast-iron monsters, there extended to the nearest windows and projected through them, hideous stove-pipes that too often spread, from every leaky and ill-fastened joint, smoke and sooty vapors, and sometimes pyroligneous drippings on the congregation. Often tin pails to catch the drippings were hung under the stove-pipes, forming a further chaste and elegant church-decoration. Many serious objections were made to the stoves besides the aesthetic ones.
It was alleged that they would be the means of starting many destructive conflagrations; that they caused severe headaches in the church attendants; and worst of all, that the _heat warped the ladies' tortoise-sh.e.l.l back-combs_.
The church reformers contended, on the other hand, that no one could properly receive spiritual comfort while enduring such decided bodily discomfort. They hoped that with increased physical warmth, fervor in religion would be equally augmented,--that, as Cowper wrote,--
”The churches warmed, they would no longer hold Such frozen figures, stiff as they are cold.”
Many were the quarrels and discussions that arose in New England communities over the purchase and use of stoves, and many were the meetings held and votes taken upon the important subject.
”Peter Parley”--Mr. Samuel Goodrich--gave, in his ”Recollections,” a very amusing account of the sufferings endured by the wife of an anti-stove deacon. She came to church with a look of perfect resignation on the Sabbath of the stove's introduction, and swept past the unwelcome intruder with averted head, and into her pew. She sat there through the service, growing paler with the unaccustomed heat, until the minister's words about ”heaping coals of fire” brought too keen a sense of the overwhelming and unhealthful stove-heat to her mind, and she fainted. She was carried out of church, and upon recovering said languidly that it ”was the heat from the stove.” A most complete and sudden resuscitation was effected, however, when she was informed of the fact that no fire had as yet been lighted in the new church-furnis.h.i.+ng.