Excerpt from Henry S. Nourse’s “History of the Town of Harvard Massachusetts 1732–1893,” written in 1894.
In a letter from Rev. Joseph Wheeler, dated February 24, 1767, and printed in the Mass. Historical Society’s Collections, he states that there were then about 200 families in Harvard, and 195 church members; and that one farmer in the town usually sowed 90 acres of grain, chiefly wheat. In 35 years, the population had nearly quadrupled [from 1732, when 50 to 60 families lived in Harvard].
The population of the town was very nearly the same as at the state census of 1885. This fact adds interest to a comparison of the farm property and products of the two periods. For every yoke of oxen now in town, there were nine in 1771. Then sheep were to be seen browsing in every rocky pasture, for each farmer had his little flock; and the sheep-washing and shearing season was a time for much neighborly exchange of labor, and rum-inspired hilarity.
The wool was largely manufactured at home, for homespun was the every-day wear of both sexes, and the good wives and girls were all skilled in spinning, dyeing, and knitting, if not in carding and weaving. Every farm-house had its cards, spinning wheels, reels, and dye-tubs, but local experts were sometimes called upon to assist in carding the greased fleeces in rolls, a pound being considered a fair day’s work.
Not much later, carding machines were introduced in the little fulling mills, one of which was to be found in nearly every town, and the clothier receiving the wool returned the rolls to the spinners for seven or eight cents per pound. A few specialists, owning hand looms, did the weaving for many spinners at so much per yard, “according to the cloth,” making two or three yards per day. Now a great-granddaughter of one of these Harvard weavers of Revolutionary days, standing at a power loom in a neighboring town, with much less physical exertion, turns off as finished product more than 50 yards of Brussels carpeting in 10 hours, or managing four or more looms, weaves from 120 to 200 yards of gingham in a day.
An even larger proportion of the tow-cloth and linen manufacture was strictly home industry, in which every member of the household, young and old, in turn participated; from the pulling and rotting of the cultivated and ripened flax through the processes of breaking, swingling, hatcheling, hanking, spinning, and weaving to the bleaching on the greensward. If the goodwife or her girls would have a calico gown, they had to pay at the village store 50 or 60 cents a yard for the goods—although six or seven yards then satisfied all the requirements of fashion in such a garment. The merchants’ wives and fine ladies of the large towns on state occasions flaunted their silk, laces, and false hair, aping foreign fashions; but very little imported finery entered into the costumes with which the rural belles dazzled the eyes of their swains.
Harvard in 1771 was no less famous for its orchards than it has ever since been, but most of the apples then found market as cider. In the even years, which were the “apple” years as now, there were at least 20 farmers who made from 30 to 40 barrels of cider each. Some of this went into the winter store of apple sauce, some was boiled down for spring and summer use, much of it was sold to the Bay towns, a little was saved for vinegar; but an astonishing amount was “drunk on the premises.”
The hides of the animals slaughtered were at once taken to James Stone, the tanner, who converted them into leather by the pains-taking old-fashioned methods, which devoured nearly two years’ time before the matured product was returned to the farmer. Its wearing properties when contrasted with those of modern leather, it must be confessed, more than justified the dilatory process. The tanned sheep-skins were in general use for leather breaches and aprons, while the neat’s leather was reserved for harnesses and shoes. The tanner dressed the hides for a share—usually one-third—of the product.
The cordwainer was very commonly a peripatetic philosopher who conveyed his kit from farm to farm, made his own lasts and thread—pegs had not been invented—and sojourned at each fireside long enough to mend and make the foot-gear for every member of the family. But in the summer and autumn not only the boys and girls, but the farmers, all went barefoot.
The hatter made hats to order, and bought of the boy trappers the skins of foxes, rabbits, and muskrats, from the hair of which he manufactured his felting. Usually there was some skillful spinster or widow tailoress in the community, who, in like manner with the cordwainer, went from house to house to cut and make the boys’ clothes, which were almost always evolved from a selection of the fittest portions of garments cast off by their elders, sometimes pieced in conspicuous places with nearly invisible rentering. The mother and daughters not only cut and made their own garments, but also the shirts and frocks of the men folk. The village tailor was depended upon for little besides the elaborate fabrication of the costs and waistcoats with which the goodmen disguised themselves on Sunday, and the cutting to measure other garments.
275 Years of a Town: In June 1732, the town of Harvard incorporated within the colony, after nearly 100 years of settlement in the area and several years of petitions, objections, and re-petitions to the legislature. To celebrate this milestone, the Press is running extracts from Henry S. Nourse’s History of the Town of Harvard Massachusetts 1732–1893.
