Once during the war Lafayette and Rochambeau were entertained over night here; Rochambeau, at the home of Rev. Nathaniel Taylor, north of the present Congregational Church, and Lafayette, at the house of the son of Rev. Nathaniel, Nathaniel, Jr., south of the church.
There was a pretty romance of the war here also. Major Jones of Virginia, in charge of the commissary stores kept here the summer after the burning of Danbury, fell in love with pretty Tamar Taylor, the minister’s daughter. We have the story from Mrs. Helen Carr, the granddaughter of Tamar Taylor, as she heard it from the lips of her grandmother. The Major’s affection seems to have been returned, but her parents frowned upon the affair for the sole reason that they could never let their daughter go to that far country—Virginia. The wooer was said to be “a very fine man, who won golden opinions from everyone,” the question of distance being the only obstacle to parental consent.
Four years later Major Jones wrote to Daniel Everett of New Milford, his sweetheart’s brother-in-law and his near friend, from Yorktown, during the siege, shortly before the surrender of Cornwallis. Even that exciting and arduous time seems not to have made him forget the young lady, for he says: “She is never out of my mind, though it seems Fortune has not been so favorable as to allot us to the possession of each other in this short transitory life, or if she has, parents seem to clash.... I wish I had time to write you fully on a subject that floats in my head, the last when I go to bed and the first when I awake, but must omit it till a future opportunity.”
After the war was over and the country had become settled, Major Jones, with his body servant, journeyed on horseback from his Virginia home to New Milford; but the journey was in vain, and he went sorrowfully home alone. Pretty Temmie Taylor seems not to have been inconsolable, for she was happily married later to the Hon. Nicholas Masters of this place. Mrs. Carr still cherishes the ring and locket given her grandmother by the earlier lover; and when we touched the ancient tokens, the long years fell away, and we, too, seemed to live in the love story of olden time.
New Milford was on one of the regular post roads from Philadelphia to Boston, and, if the old highways could speak, they might tell many stories of distinguished men who have travelled over them. We read in the letters of John Adams of his going through this town on his way to the Congress in Philadelphia. During the war there was frequent passing through the place of both British and Continental troops.
When the war was over there was still further expression of the patriotic sentiments of the people in a vote “that none of those persons who have voluntarily gone over and joined the enemy, shall be suffered to abide and continue in the town during the present situation of our public affairs.” A committee was appointed to carry out these resolutions, with the result that several never came back, and their lands were confiscated by the State.
We learn of much pleasant social life in the peaceful days following the war. There were the “assemblies.” An invitation card for one of these functions is for “Friday Evening, July third next, at six o’clock.” What would the young people of our day think of that? Another is for a “Quarter Ball, at Mr. G. Booth’s Assembly Room, on June 3d at three o’clock, P. M.”! In winter there were merry sleighing parties to neighboring towns. Often large companies in twenty or thirty sleighs enjoyed an early supper together, getting safely home before ten o’clock.
Afternoon teas were frequent; not like yours, dear up-to-date woman of to-day, but “tea-drinkings,” where the women took their knitting work and spent long afternoons in visiting. Mrs. Nathaniel Taylor had on one occasion such a company. The parson, in his study overhead, was greatly interested in the fragments of conversation that floated up to him. Each woman had some exciting tale of her domestic experiences to relate. One quiet sister, unable to hold her own in the babel of tongues, tried again and again to tell her story, beginning, “My goose——.” But each time the quiet voice was drowned, and the story never proceeded further.
When good Parson Taylor was summoned to the tea table he said: “Ladies, I have been so interested in your conversation, I thought it worth preserving. So I wrote it down and will read it to you.” Great was the amusement when he read the persistent efforts of their friend to tell the story of “My Goose.” After all, human nature is much the same in all generations.
The town enjoyed in the old days quite a reputation for good living, and many were the notable feasts cooked over the great fireplaces and in the huge brick ovens before the days of stoves and ranges. What an amount of seasoned hickory logs went up the chimney in smoke to cook them! Forty cords of wood, the record gives, as one item of the minister’s salary for the year.