Part 1

_TRADING IN SCRABBLETOWN_

BY ALICE BRAYTON

_PREFACE_

_The material used in this publication was found in a barrel of papers presented to the Fall River Historical Society by John Summerfield Brayton, in the summer of 1948. There were over 4000 papers in the barrel; well preserved, though some had been nibbled by mice. And none of those 4000 papers had ever appeared in print--never appeared at all, I understand, since the barrel head was nailed down a hundred years ago._

_The papers were concerned with trading in Scrabbletown, an old suburb of Swansea, Massachusetts, just about, I should say, ten miles from the farmhouse on the Taunton where the barrel was found._

_Trading a dull subject? By no means; according to the barrel the traders of Scrabbletown led a most exciting life, packed with adventure steadied by responsibility, completely insecure, very satisfactory to those who succeeded or even survived--and you had a run for your money if you didn’t. I am trying to present this manysided life as revealed by the papers in the barrel. You may find me incredible. I read all the papers, the 4000; please believe that, anyway._

_The latest paper was written in 1832, which is more than a world away, and the earliest was a lottery ticket of 1814; not to be thought of as wicked, for I judge from other papers that nearly everybody in Scrabbletown took chances. Lottery tickets to the “Rhode Island State Lottery” were sold over the counter. “A fool and his money are soon parted” was a copybook saying of theirs, however, and although there were quite a few legal papers in the barrel I found no trace of any law attempting to protect fools. Indeed, even the practice of actually jailing persons who had bought more than they could pay for, prevailed through the whole barrel period, and I read some sad letters from some very foolish men who owed money to the traders of Scrabbletown._

_The barrel letters were easily deciphered; though some of the spelling was queer, it was always comprehensible. Going over the papers it seemed to me that the whole population had somehow learned to read and write pretty well; in the barrel there was only one paper signed with a mark. And that was the mark of Prince Potter, a freed slave, father of Quanny Potter who sold seven sheep in 1824. Possibly he had been crippled by arthritis; perhaps when young he too could have written his name. You will not find me jumping to conclusions._

_Except for that one lottery ticket, there was no paper of 1814 in the barrel and there was nothing dated 1815 but an account book bound in stiff marbled covers. It was backed by real leather; to last, you know. No one at that time bought anything not likely to wear well. The book came from the shop of John Brewer, a bookbinder and bookseller of Providence. On the fly leaf is written in an excellent, really distinguished hand_,

“_The property of Israel Brayton March 21, 1815. Swanzey._”

_It was the discovery of this book that gave me my first clue to the ownership of the barrel papers. There is no doubt that the barrel and the papers were the property of an Israel Brayton who traded in Scrabbletown in 1815-1832, and in 1832 shut up shop, crammed all of his own papers and any others around the shop, into the barrel, nailed down the barrel head, took the barrel over to the attic of the farm house in Somerset where it has just been discovered, and thought no more about it for the next hundred years._

_Who was this Israel Brayton? The barrel relates him to the entire countryside. He knew everybody, apparently, was well known to everybody. But he was a quiet man, I think, cautious, self-contained. Notoriety, publicity, arrogance, even modest pride, were deadly sins in his New England eyes. And so, what he told to no one, no one repeated, and finally no one knew._

_His descendants of today had never heard of Scrabbletown before the finding of the barrel, had never known that Grandfather Brayton had ever been in trade._

_Least said, soonest mended, he thought; and it is true--but I must tell you something of the Trader as well as the Trade of Scrabbletown--just a little--I hope he will not mind--it was all a long time ago._

_Trading in Scrabbletown_

CONCERNING ISRAEL BRAYTON, TRADER

Israel Brayton’s father was John Brayton, son of Israel Brayton, grandson of Preserved Brayton; all of Somerset. Letters from John Brayton to his son Israel were in the barrel. So we know.

Israel, you notice, was named for his grandfather. Other members of his family were three older sisters; Mary, Sarah, and Nancy. Their letters also were in the barrel--nice little letters to brother Israel. And nice little bills, too, from brother Israel. He had an elder brother who died young, at sea; and the barrel holds letters from another brother--he wrote from Warren. We gather that at one time he was Captain of a ship that did some trading along the coast--Captain Stephen. Israel had, also, five younger brothers and sisters. They are not in the barrel but he had them.

At the time of Israel’s birth, in 1792, this rapidly increasing family was living in an old farmhouse, built in 1715, on the crest of its own one hundred and seventy-five acre farm in Somerset on the West Shore of the Taunton River near the river’s mouth. They had a fine view of Mount Hope Bay from their southern windows. There was a well-filled family graveyard in the back orchard, a little red schoolhouse up the road “on William Read’s land,” built partly with Brayton money, a stone wharf for Brayton boats down by the river.

When Israel was four years old, his father built a larger farmhouse, nearer the river bank, and in this new house the little Braytons of Israel’s generation grew up. Their elders were talking about the Late War. They meant the War of the Revolution. Having suffered severely from the effects of that victory on their business, they were trying to make good. Some of their most prosperous and competent neighbors had been loyal to the Crown. They were simply not there any more. And they were missed. Others, it was suspected, had been loyal in secret, as has been lately proved. It had done them no good. They were ruined with the rest. And all about on the farms were the crippled and the pensioned men.

Conditions were getting better, slowly; a few new houses had been built, a few new ships had been launched. Nobody around here between the Revolution and the War of 1812 seems to have been expecting such utter disaster as another war. But even before the actual declaration of war, in 1812, their world to their consternation went to pieces. Again Somerset ships were taken by British ships. Somerset, Swansea, Trojan, and Scrabbletown men--sailors before the mast--were pressed. The ship yards of Somerset, Dighton, Berkeley, Assonet, Warren, Bristol, Providence, Lee’s River, everywhere--closed down, and commerce ceased to be. Israel’s people had lived on their farms but they had lived by their shipyards and their shipping.

When the War of 1812 was officially declared on June 18th, Israel was 20 years old. His father was on the draft board of the town. Of course Israel went off with the other Somerset men to fight the Britishers. They went, I think, as far as New Bedford.

Israel incurred a disability, if the barrel is to be trusted. He was discharged from the Army. There is a good deal in the barrel about this disability. Israel in after days thought he should be excused from military drill. When the local Militia would not excuse him, he just stayed away. There is a note in the barrel acknowledging the payment of his fine for so doing. In order to get out of drill, which was time-consuming at least, for the Militia rarely met in Israel’s village, Israel eventually had to have affadavits from two local doctors as to his disability. His sister had married Dr. Winslow, Dr. Lloyd Brayton was his cousin. The authorities were skeptical. Dr. Winslow’s second letter did the trick. The first was not accepted.

“Samuel Read Lieut, Commander. Sir:

Mr. Israel Brayton belonging to your Company has and is now troubled with a lameness and weakness in his back and legs, which may be termed of a rheumatic tendency, and in my opinion ought to excuse him from military duty.

Yours in respect John Winslow”

In August, 1813, as soon as he was free of the Army, Israel married. His bride was a neighbor’s girl, Keziah Anthony, daughter of David Anthony and his wife Submit Wheeler. The Anthony farm lay east of Lee’s River, not an hour’s walk across the fields from the Brayton Farm on the Taunton. Keziah was Israel’s third cousin, and kinship was of much account. You knew what you were getting. The marriage was most practical. Israel, just come of age, not physically strong, had to start out on his own. He needed help. And both the Anthony and the Wheeler connections, as was expected, proved useful. There are hundreds of communications in the barrel from Hezekiah Anthony of Providence and David Anthony of Troy, both brothers of Israel’s wife, both prosperous merchants in their day. There is a helpful letter from Nathaniel Wheeler, her uncle.

But nobody could be very useful in 1813. With all the shipping stopped and the shipyards closed, there was no berth for Israel in any countinghouse, no need for him as supercargo--a man with a lame back isn’t much good on a farm.

Israel took his bride up state to Foxboro, where he taught in the District School. In Foxboro or thereabouts--boundary lines were changing fast--their first child was born, little Mary, who, herself, at the age of eighteen was teaching school in Fall River. You know perhaps that later in life she gave the B.M.C. Durfee High School to the City of Fall River in memory of her son.

The family was always interested in education and Israel served on the School Committee of Swansea for years and preserved in the barrel a number of letters from various people who wanted jobs.

In 1815, after the President had ratified the Treaty of Ghent on February 17th, and the War was surely over, Israel and Kezia and little Mary left Foxboro for their own part of the world, where, in the small village of Scrabbletown near Swansea, Israel began his career as a Trader. And went to Providence and bought that first account book of which I have told you.

TRADING WITH THE SWANSEA UNION COTTON MANUFACTURING COMPANY

Back in 1804, ten years before this story begins, Dexter Wheeler, an uncle of Israel Brayton’s wife, had bought the Martin Farm in Swansea; 43 acres with water power and a grist mill. In 1806, he sold half his farm to his brother, Nathaniel, the village blacksmith. The brothers intended to build and operate a Cotton Yarn Factory. This was years before the power loom had been used successfully anywhere in the country, twenty six years before mule spinning was even attempted.

Factory construction went on slowly. Dexter Wheeler quit, though his brother Nathaniel Wheeler continued to be interested for some years longer. Ownership of the yarn mill became involved. Then the War of 1812 stopped the shipping north of cotton--overland transportation was of course impossible. And you can’t run a cotton factory without cotton, you know. And you can’t raise a cotton crop in New England--in case you don’t know!

There was reorganization at the close of the War. The third oldest paper in the barrel is a certificate of stock in this “Swansea Union Cotton Manufacturing Company” as it finally came to be called. The stock had been issued to Wheaton Luther, February 21, 1816, when he was clerking for Israel in Scrabbletown and must have been left carelessly around the store. (This Wheaton Luther was a Somerset man, his board bill in Swansea where he stayed with David Brown was also in the barrel, paid up to August 1, 1816.) Wheaton gave $145.00 for his mill stock. It was not a whole share of stock, only a quarter share, and he did not pay for it all at once, but in 39 installments. This is testimony to Wheaton’s industry. (Though the lottery ticket was his.) And to his small wages. And to the difficulty men had in getting any capital at all to finance a yarn mill.

By the close of 1815, the factory was spinning some cotton. The spinners had been carefully selected, for the factory machinery was supposed to be rather a secret, certainly experimental, the process not too easy to get the hang of. At first the spinners were eager to take home the yarn and weave it on their own looms. Their families and friends wanted the work. But this was haphazard and unbusinesslike and would never do. There must be a distributing center for the yarn, a center to which the finished work could be returned, inspected, paid for.

Uncle Nathaniel Wheeler wrote up to his niece Kezia. He was still running his blacksmith shop in Swansea and knew what was going on. He saw what looked like a good job for Israel--the factory needed some one to run a Company Store.

Why a Store? Because the weavers would not want to be paid in cash, he knew very well they wouldn’t. They would want to be paid in goods--which they could get immediately. They certainly would not want to save what they might earn, for the farms were short of everything and needed replacements at once. With no shipping, not only cotton but many staples had not come up from the South; no English or West Indian Goods had been in the market for a long time, no whale ships had brought oil for the lamps of Swansea, no ships of any kind had brought any lamps.

After sounding out the Swansea Union Cotton Manufacturing Company, Israel and Kezia and Mary came down at once, as I have told you, and Israel found housing in Swansea for his family and began to look about for a partner. He was a cautious man, was Israel.

John Mason, well thought of in Swansea where he was Postmaster, was not averse to investing in the project. The two men formed what they called a “Co-Partnership”. They bought a small shop whose owner had failed. They bought the shop and its meagre contents at auction. And what they bought and what they paid for it is listed in the barrel.

They filled the almost empty shelves with, well, with everything. I have read the inventories. They were then ready to trade with the Swansea Union Cotton Manufacturing Company; and with the whole countryside.

And they did. And Israel continued to do so until he went out of business altogether in 1832. Seventeen years. A few years later the Swansea Union Cotton Manufacturing Company’s factory burned down; bankrupt, I have heard. Of that the barrel knows nothing. It was a very successful little yarn factory while it lasted.

Brayton and Mason had engaged Wheaton Luther as clerk. (Yes. He was a cousin of Kezia’s.). For they did not intend to spend much time in the shop themselves. Mason had his post-office. Israel had to get around. All their ventures were complicated and were going to need personal attention. Wheaton Luther proved to be efficient, though he certainly conducted many affairs of his own on the side. And Mrs. Brayton (Kezia), after the birth of her second child, little William Bowers, in August, 1816, helped in the store when needed.

“Mr Brayton----please to send me the handkerchief that your wife laid aside----and charge it----

Sarah Ann Luther”

As soon as little Mary could reach up to the counter, she too helped out, after school hours. She was a very handsome girl, and graceful. Her father hired a dancing teacher to give her dancing lessons. The bill is in the Barrel. Also I found a bill showing that she began her regular schooling at the age of three.

Israel spent the rest of the year of 1815 riding about the country-side making connections with the weavers needed to weave the spun yarn of the factory. He knew all the farms and the villages, of course. He had grown up among them. He got the names of quite a lot of reliable men and women who would be willing to weave for the Swansea Union Cotton Manufacturing Company through the agency of Brayton and Mason. They began to come in for yarn. Israel started the Weave Books found in the barrel.

We know from these books the prices paid each man and woman, and the pattern each had to follow.

As the amount of yarn spun in the factory increased, the number of weavers had to be increased. The better weavers--any very good weaver had always been celebrated through the villages--were the first employed by Israel--also the weavers nearest to Scrabbletown. Weaving, I think, was an Art, when Israel went to find his weavers; and started to make up his weave books. Possibly it did not remain an art for long. The demand for weavers was soon so great that the factory could not--did not--reject badly woven cloth. The price paid for the weaving was the same for good or bad. Each weaver knew that a critical appraisal of the quality of his finished work was placed against his name, but the factory, though it grumbled, took the good, bad, indifferent. Every weaver got his pay, didn’t he--why worry? Occasionally a man wove so badly that he could not be kept on the list--but only occasionally.

And the factory was not spinning the yarn evenly--not as well as the better home spinners had spun it. Down in the weave book went the comment of the weaver who was asked to weave bad (“tender”) yarn. “The yarn was very rotten in spooling” wrote Sarah Ann Luther. But it was rarely returned unwoven. Possibly the weavers hated to waste their time weaving bad yarn--their own spinning had been pretty good. But they wove what Israel gave them. Of course they did--eventually. And it made usable cloth, mostly.

Finally, few bothered to weave too well, I suppose. Soon they all got used to the second rate. Along the village streets you would have heard the looms clicking. New prosperity could have been seen about the farms.

Men wove this factory yarn more often than women. Retired sea-captains--seafaring men without ships at the moment--sat down at the loom, especially in the winter months. And still the demand for weavers grew. The yarn was taken by weavers living in Assonet, Barrington, Dighton, Rehoboth, Tiverton, Warren, Freetown and Troy (old names for Fall River) as well as by those living in Swansea and Somerset and the farms round about. And it was all distributed by Brayton and Mason who checked it most carefully. There was a system by which yarn was sent to the homes of the weavers by baggage waggon, the woven cloth returned the same way. But many weavers did not live on the baggage waggon route and there were horses on every farm. Farmers would ride in to Scrabbletown, have a drink, get the yarn their households needed; and bring back to Israel the woven cloth in their own good time. I must repeat that they could have been paid in cash had they so desired. But few did so desire. For they could select goods right off the shelves--there was no better store in Swansea than the little Company Store run by Brayton and Mason.

The farmers would sometimes bring in fresh eggs, a pail of berries, some bear steaks or venison--Israel was always glad to get anything in the way of trade. There is record of a crop of Swansea currants so disposed of, to a man down from Dighton. He was going to make currant wine. A village shoemaker would make a few extra shoes for the shop; in trade for a gilt mirror and some imported rum.

For of course Brayton and Mason carried rum both imported and domestic--some weavers favored one, some another. They even stocked Port Wine, straight from Spain to Somerset. Silk from China could be had, too, and French Wall Paper; British goods, surprisingly, were very popular the moment the British were defeated.

When the weavers had brought in their cloth, and it had been inspected, Israel often picked out some particularly good piece to keep in stock. He arranged this with the factory. Households busy weaving for the factory sometimes needed a little cotton cloth for household use which they no longer had the time to spin and weave; especially bed-ticking.

Israel kept more and more of this homewoven cloth for trading. He had to send his cart up to Boston where he bought his main supplies of drygoods, china and glass ware, and it seemed foolish to send it empty. He began to load up with cloth and goosefeathers, etc. And trade was soon pretty brisk. A Company Store in Raynham took all he could spare; he stopped off in Raynham on the way up. There was in Boston as at home an especially good demand for bed-ticking. The trade in more fancy weaves was not always satisfactory.

With the yarn issued to the weavers, went, as I have said, “directions”. Each weaver was told by the factory what colors to use, what design to make. Yarn of each color, just enough, went with each bundle.

[Illustration]

There were found in the barrel, a few pieces of the woven cloth. They show the red and the orange yarn, the two shades of blue, and the general look of this home-and-factory product. More white yarn was given out than colored--undyed, a “natural” white. The bits of cloth are most pleasing.

Weavers who were accustomed to weave their own devised patterns, as many were, naturally found these directions irksome. But it was take it or leave it, and they took it, and brought back their finished work to the Company Store, getting in exchange, women’s kid boots, teapots of lustre ware, good China Tea. It probably seemed worth it. Of course, Brayton and Mason kept Store Books as well as Weave Books--it is easy to trace by name and date the goods that the weavers selected.

The Swansea Union Cotton Manufacturing Company gave their spinners credit at Brayton and Mason’s store. There are hundreds of little notes in the barrel signed by the Factory Manager, Benjamin Anthony, asking that the bearer be given credit for certain specified articles, the same to be charged to the Company. It meant more book keeping for Israel, but what could he do about it. Yes, there are hundreds of such notes, and nobody knows how many more were destroyed. More personal notes run as follows:

“You must not trust Elisha Sweet”. This was in 1820.

“Please to let Otis Handy have cloth nuff for jacket and trowsers and charge the same to me

Abraham Gardner”

“Please to let the bearer have eight shillings worth out of your store and charge the same to me

Abraham Gardner” (notice, they wrote of shillings).

“It is particularly requested as a favor that if Jeremiah Brown should send any of his children or family for spirits that you should refuse him, and confer a favour upon his family who on account of his excessive drinking are much distressed

Swanzey. October 13, 1828. A friend.”

“Please to let the bearer have one dollar and 59 cents on my weaving Account.

Isaac Threeshere.”