farm (about 1850) and several times I have heard her describe the farm hand who came to the back door one noon, and looking at his hands remarked, "I guess they are clean enough," and so went into his dinner, without washing.
Henry W. Erving of Hartford, Conn., writes: "A couple of years ago I made a pilgrimage to my great-grandfather's former home in Westford, Conn., in company with a kinsman over eighty years old—the last of his generation. It was a very comfortable house, with four rooms and a leanto, with a stone chimney. My great-grandfather lived there as early as 1750. My cousin called my attention to the old well near the door where, by the curb, there was a large stone hollowed out like a trough. He said the 'men folks' as they came from the field, would fill that trough with a bucket or two of water from which they would 'souse' themselves thoroughly, thus not disturbing the goodwife. And of course in the rustic neighborhoods the old customs existed long after they were abandoned in the larger villages and towns.
"You will hardly believe, when I say it, but I distinctly remember as a very small boy, going to a house in this same primitive town of Westford where we were invited to dinner. The only drinking vessel on the table was one of the quart Staffordshire mugs (would that I had that mug in my collection today) which was filled with water, milk or cider, I have really forgotten which, and passed around the table at the demand of any thirsty one. The family consisted of a man and his wife, an ancient grandmother, and several children with not too clean faces. I couldn't refuse the mug when urged upon me and selecting a place on the brim at the right of the handle, I drank, when one of the children exclaimed, 'See, mar! He's got granny's place.' Of course that practice in this instance was possibly nearly a century out of period."
One of the standard examples of American humor is the picture of the Mayflower loaded to the cross-trees with the chairs, chests and cradles that devout New Englanders now own and claim were brought over on that memorable voyage. It is so easy to attribute age and romantic history to a treasured family relic that it has become possible for a museum in the city of New York to exhibit a punch bowl of Staffordshire ware, as a veritable relic of the Mayflower. The bowl could not possibly have been made before 1780–1790. There is another piece of Staffordshire treasured in the china closet of a New England family, which the owner is certain was formerly possessed by an ancestress who died years before the Revolution. Well authenticated family tradition vouches for the fact which cannot be disputed. Yet, the observer will soon discover a steamboat pictured on one side of the pitcher and what is more interesting, the stars and stripes are flying from the masthead and the canton of the flag contains fifteen stars.
It is undoubtedly true that some pieces of furniture were brought over from England by the first settlers and the tradition connected with such pieces can be authenticated by an examination of the chair or chest showing that it is made of English and not American oak. While most family possessions, for convenience in shipment, came over in bales or bundles, covered with canvas in the true European manner, a custom followed by emigrants of a later day, yet, many articles of fine clothing and the treasured belongings of the better-equipped families came over neatly stowed in chests and cupboards and some of those chests have survived.
It is all a matter of common sense reasoning which can be backed up by an examination of early records and also the furniture itself. Why pay a considerable value in money to transport, in an overcrowded ship, utilitarian pieces of furniture, that could be made in the newly settled colony, by workmen who were going over in the same ship? Timber could be had here for the cutting and until sufficient time had elapsed to permit the making of chairs, beds and other required furniture, one could sit on rudely made stools and boxes and sleep on pallet beds made up on the floor just as many of them would be obliged to sleep while on board ship.
Some estimate of the culture of the New England people during the seventeenth century and of their appreciation of the refinements of life may be reached with a degree of accuracy through a study of the carefully itemized inventories of their estates made at time of death. During that period the Royal Governor from overseas, with his little court of officials and followers, had not introduced London fashions and furnishings to the extent that existed in the eighteenth century. Moreover, the wealth of the colonies had not grown to the point where the refinements of life were not only esteemed but demanded by loving spouses and by those who had taken ship for England or the Continent and there had observed how other people lived.
Among the early settlements made in the Colony of the Massachusetts Bay was one at Agawam, now the town of Ipswich. The news had reached Boston that the French were pushing their settlements westward along the coast, bringing with them "divers priests and Jesuits," which so alarmed the Governor and the Assistants that it was decided to forestall the French and hasten the planting of new towns north of Boston. The first move was to send the Governor's son John, with twelve others, to establish themselves at Agawam. There were no roads and so they sailed along the coast in a shallop and took possession of the town site in March, 1633. Their families and other settlers soon followed and the increase of population was such that in August, 1634, the Court of Assistants decreed that the place be called Ipswich, after old Ipswich in England, "in acknowledgment of the great honor and kindness done to our people, who took shipping there."
Three months later, in November, 1634, one John Dillingham arrived in Ipswich and the selectmen granted him six acres of land on which to build a house. He was from Leicestershire and with his wife and daughter had come over in the fleet with Winthrop in 1630, and remained in Boston until he removed to Ipswich. Life in the frontier settlement was too severe for him and he died during the next winter. On July 14, 1636, his widow, Sarah, made her "last will and testament" being in "perfect memory though my body be weake & sick" and a few days later she too was dead, leaving her orphaned daughter to be cared for by Richard Saltonstall and John Appleton, under the direction of the Quarterly Court. And this was not at all difficult for John Dillingham had left a "goodly estate," for the times. This Dillingham home has been selected for analysis because it is one of the earliest estates in the Colony of which we have exact and detailed information, a number of documents relating to it having been preserved among the miscellaneous papers in the Massachusetts State Archives.[21] Moreover, it shows the furnishings and equipment of a settler living in a town of only two years growth from the wilderness.
The Dillingham homestead consisted of a house of two rooms and outbuildings with thirty acres of upland, sixty acres of meadow, i.e., grass land, and six acres of planting ground near the house, of which four acres were planted with corn. Apple trees and other fruits were fenced off in the garden. For livestock there was a mare, three cows, two steers, two heifers, four calves, and four pigs. There was an indentured servant, Thomas Downs, to help cultivate the land and care for the stock, and a maid, Ann Towle, who not only helped with the housework but also worked in the fields. "She hath been a faithful servant," wrote Richard Saltonstall, executor of the estate, "and though she was discharged by her mistress a little before her time was out, yet it may be borne by the estate, considering her diligence." Ann had come over in the ship Susan and Ellen, which arrived in April, 1635. Her passage cost £5.
The Dillinghams occupied a good social position in the youthful settlement but their two-room house did not contain any really fine furniture. The parlor was also used as a bedroom, a practice which was common everywhere in the seventeenth century. It had two bedsteads valued at £1. 6. 8.; a cupboard, 10s.; a sea chest, 10s.; two "joyned Chaires," 5s.; a round table, 7s.; a deske, 4s.; and a band box, 2s. There was also a large nest of boxes valued £2. and a small nest of boxes worth only three shillings. The feather beds, boulsters, and pillows on each bed were valued at about twice as much as a bedstead and the coverlets averaged about £1. a piece. There were flaxen sheets for Mrs. Dillingham's bed and coarse sheets for the beds of the maid and the indentured servant. A warming pan bears silent testimony to the cold of the winter season. Another bedstead valued at only three shillings may have been in the garret and occupied by Ann Towle, the maid. A chest stood in the kitchen—more generally spoken of at that time as "the hall," in accordance with the English usage—and two boxes, probably used for storage and also for seats. That was all the furniture listed in the kitchen that was considered
