Radio Script #702

Little Talks on Common Things

October 30, 1966

One of the earliest families in Winslow were the Howards, whose descendants lived on the original Howard farm in that town and from whom, thirty to forty years ago. I used to buy delicious homemade cheese. The house is now the home of Dr. and Mrs. Paul Douglas. Very interesting to persons who care for local history is the will of Daniel Howard signed on March 6 1777, in the very midst of the American Revolution. Although Howard described himself as then a resident of Bridgewater, his will made several references to Winslow.

Let us see just what that document said: “I, Daniel Howard of Bridgewater. in the County of Plymouth in New England, do give my soul to God that gave it and my body to be buried at the discretion of my executor. As to my worldly interests, in the first place I give to my beloved wife Damaris Howard all my household furniture, two cows and one-third part of the improvement of the south part of my farm where I now dwell, during her natural life, but the household furniture and cows to be her own to improve or dispose of as she pleases, and the cows to be kept winter and summer on her part of the farm by my executor and he to find firewood for her at her door, fit for the fire, and my executor to pay my wife 40 shillings a year during her life if she demands it.

“I give to my son Barnabas Howard and to his heirs all my homestead farm and all farming tools, and all my wearing clothes, and my part of the sawmill at home. and one-third part of four acres of cedar swamp in Easton, and half a lot of cedar swamp in Braintree, and one-third of about 3,000 acres of land that I own in Winslow in the county of Lincoln.

“I give to my daughters Mary Howard Cary and Silence Howard Hayden about 110 acres of land lying in the northwest corner of Bridgewater, together with five acres adjoining to it that I bought of Samuel Stone of Easton, and part of a sawmill standing near said land, and I give also to said daughters two-thirds of about 3,000 acres of land lying in Winslow in the County of Lincoln, to be equally divided between them and their heirs. Concerning the money and securities that I may die seized of, my will is that it be equally divided between my three children, Barnabas, Mary and Silence, after my funeral charges and just debts have been paid. If any charge of cost should hereafter happen for the settling of my eastern land, my will is that my three children pay their equal part of any said charge. I do appoint my son Barnabas my executor to thi s my last will and testament.”

It is well known that among the most prominent of early Waterville families were the Boutelles. About 1800 there came to Waterville the first of that family, a young attorney named Timothy Boutelle. Save possibly for the very wealthy Nathaniel Gilman, he became Waterville’s richest citizen in the middle of the 19th century.

There has recently come to light a letter written in 1834 by Artemas Boutelle, son of the old squire to his sister Helen, who was then in Ipswich, Mass. Helen later became the wife of Edwin Noyes, first superintendent of the Androscoggin and Kennebec railroad, and it was for her as a bride that Timothy Boutelle built the fine home on Temple Street that, after long use by Boys Club and YMCA, was recently torn down under Urban Renewal.

Artemas Boutelle’s letter to his sister reveals much about the town of Waterville and its little college 132 years ago. Apparently Artemas was not eager to write, but regarded it as a duty. The letter began: “It falls to my lot, as usual, to write you, though no doubt a few lines from Father or Mother would be more acceptable. But Father cannot and Mother cannot, so Artemas must. He must somehow convince his absent sister that we do not forget her.”

Then Artemas gets down to the news: “I can tell you, Helen, that our college term has commenced, and students are flocking in like bees to a swarming. How sad it is to see them all coming in smart and active, while your Artie is cooped up in the house on this February day, longing for the sun and the green fields of summer.

“Our freshmen now outnumber all the rest of the college. How smart they will feel when they are sophomores. We poor juniors are now the least in number, however smart we may be, and smart I tell you we are, though that may be self-commendation.

“President Babcock has been absent most of the vacation, and he has now brought back with him four or five hundred volumes for the college library, quite welcome, I assure you. We have a new tutor this term, Mr. Randall, lately preceptor of South Reading Academy. Now we have three young tutors strutting about. Mr. Barnes, however, will probably have professor prefixed to his name next commencement. All the college officers are now exceedingly popular.”

That reference Artemas made to faculty popularity would remind his sister of the excitement in Waterville only one year before when, after turbulent scenes among both faculty and students, the college’s first president, Jeremiah Chaplin, had resigned in sorrow rather than anger, and Babcock had taken his place.

Even in its early years the college had trouble feeding its students. But that department seemed to be improved in 1834. Artemas Boutelle told his sister: “The new steward pleases, and well he may, for his wife, he says, is a whale at cooking.”

Then Artemas called attention to new college regulations: “The seniors must now deliver orally original compositions three times each term”. The delivery had to be made before the entire student body and faculty in the college chapel. Juniors got off more easily; they could choose between an original composition and a memorized selection from public print.

Now comes an important reference to church: “Mr. Smith was ordained on Wednesday of last week. You will receive a paper giving some account of the exercises. The two hymns of Mr. Smith’s composing are beautiful, I think.”

That is the reference to the ordination as pastor of Waterville’s First Baptist Church of Samuel Francis Smith, and one of the hymns that Artemas mentioned was “America”.

Of course no family letter was written in those days or even a century later: without some mention of the weather. So Artemas told his sister: “The weather for the past two or three weeks has been delightful, more like April than February. The snow is fast disappearing, and sleighing is very bad. I just saw a horse and gig go by. But we had some real cold days in January. You speak of feeling cold with the thermometer ten to fifteen degrees above zero. How would you have felt here when it was 25 below?”

Then comes another bit of news: “Mr. Crocker and Mrs. Holden were married a few days ago. But more interesting to you, Helen, is the news of home. To begin, we have all been sick. Cousin has been shut up in the house with swollen face caused by a bad tooth. She will be better now that the tooth is out. Nat,” that was the brother who would be Waterville’s prominent physician of the Civil War period, “has had a bad cold, which confined him for several days, but he is now out again. Mother too has had her turn, with very severe pain in the side, but she is now convalescent. As for myself, I am heartily tired of answering inquiries about my own health, when all I can say is ‘somewhat better’ or ‘about the same’. I am indeed getting better slowly. Occasionally I talk too much, and that brings on my cough. For the last two or three weeks I have felt very well, both in body and spirit, and my appetite is voracious.

“Thanks, Helen, for your presents brought by the hand of Nathaniel Gilman, who came recently from Boston. I have indeed missed you very much this winter. How happy I should be to have you here to talk with me and play battledore, for I exercise in that way considerably.”

Battledore was a sort of early version of badminton. The game was more commonly called battledore and shuttlecock. Originally battledore was the racket with which a player battled the piece of cork with feathers in one end.

Then Artemas Boutelle came to the end of his letter: “I must now stop, lest, Helen, I make you homesick and myself sad. We are glad that you plan to spend your recess with Cousin Benjamin. Why don’t you write? Day after day we have been looking for a long letter from you. Mother will send your things that you want in the spring. All send their love together with that of your ever affectionate brother Artemas.”

The repeated colds, the hacking cough, and the reiterated periods of weakness forced Artemas Boutelle to leave college soon after he wrote that letter to his sister Helen. We need only the evidence of his own letter to know that Artemas was afflicted with tuberculosis. The old squire sent the young man south in hope that a warmer climate would restore his health. But it was all in vain. There in Feliciana, Louisiana, far from his Maine home, Artemas Boutelle died on September 1, 1835 at the age of 21. His remains were brought home to Maine, and he now lies with father, mother, and several brothers and sisters in the big family lot in Waterville’s Pine Grove Cemetery.

Several exquisite pieces of furniture that once belonged to Timothy Boutelle, as well as oil portraits of the old squire and his wife — the father and mother mentioned in Artemas’ letter — are now on display at the Redington Museum of the Waterville Historical Society.

Year: 1966