pastispresent.org
an online forum for early American discovery, discussion, and diversion from the American Antiquarian Society

March 9, 1870 Wednesday, In the Life of a Blacksmith: Blacksmithing again.  On our big wagon.  I drilled and bolted the wheels today.  In the eve I read [C-- C--] and then wrote a letter to Simon.

Archive for the ‘Good Sources’ Category

Typefindings: Good Old College Days

February 22nd, 2010, by Ashley Cataldo

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Today’s university may be in need of a revolution of its own, what with its failure to create true interdisciplinary convrutgersersation and its isolation from the wider public.  The late eighteenth-century college did not exist in such isolation from the people, though few colleges became hotbeds of revolutionary activity during the war like Queen’s College (now Rutgers University). Queen’s alone attracted soldiers and aspiring legislators like James Schureman and Simeon DeWitt. It also brought to its doors printers like Abraham Blauvelt, whose newspapers became a voice for a unique type of independence, one that linked printing and university life, in the later years of the eighteenth century.

Blauvelt has a small, unexceptional entry in the printers’ file: publisher of the Brunswick Gazette from 1789-1792; publisher, with Shelly Arnett, of the Guardian, from 1792-1793; graduate of Queen’s in 1789 and recipient of the A.M. in 1792. These well-chosen facts of Avis Clarke’s, though, provide a window into the early American world of education and independence.gazette 01

Every Wednesday, a notice for trustee meetings would appear in Blauvelt’s paper, The Brunswick Gazette. Not just a sign of loyalty from a Queen’s College alumnus, the notices are a sign of the change in allegiance on the part of trustees themselves. On June 5, 1781, the Legislature of New Jersey altered the charter for Queen’s by request of its own trustees, now fully in support of independence under their soon-to-be president Jacob Hardenbergh. Trustees would now take an oath of allegiance to the United States instead of to the board itself. More significantly, though, the new charter stipulated that notices for trustee meetings be published in a New York or New Jersey paper, not just a New York paper alone.

One of the last colonies to get its own paper was New Jersey. Because of its dependence on New York and Pennsylvania, New Jersey did not get its own major paper, the New-Jersey Journal, until 1779. Published by Sheppard Kollock, it was one of the first papers in support of independence in the state. In 1783, Kollock had published The Political Intelligencer and New Jersey Advertiser with Shelly Arnett, Blauvelt’s partner at the Guardian ten years later. Kollock published the first independent newspaper in New Jersey, and he Arnett printed the first newspaper with a college imprint. Blauvelt in turn printed one of the first papers to help establish independence both for the New Jersey press, Queen’s College trustees, and loyalty to a new United States.

Further reference: Demarest, William H.S. A History of Rutgers College, 1766-1924. New Brunswick: Rutgers, 1924. Hixson, Richard F. The Press in Revolutionary New Jersey. Trenton: New Jersey Historical Commission, 1975. McAnear, Beverly. “College Founding in the American Colonies, 1745-1775″ Mississippi Valley Historical Review 42, no. 1 (1955): 24-44.


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The Children’s Henry Box Brown

February 8th, 2010, by Laura Wasowicz

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henry_box_brownHenry Box Brown (b. 1816) escaped lifelong slavery in Virginia by shipping himself in a box (with the help of white and African-American abolitionists) to Philadelphia in 1849.  One of the few primary sources detailing his breathtaking escape to freedom is the children’s book Cousin Ann’s Stories for Children.  Written in 1849 by Quaker abolitionist and pioneer female physician Ann Preston (1813-1872), her account conveys in simple but deft language, Brown’s death-defying journey:

The box was three feet long, two feet eight inches deep, and twenty-three and a half inches wide.  Then, he got a kind man to send word to a trusty friend in Philadelphia, that the box would be sent on the cars to Philadelphia on a certain day.  On the top of the box was written in large black letters, ‘this side up with care.’  When it was nearly time for the cars to start, Henry took a bladder of water, some biscuit, and a large gimlet, and got into his box.  Then a man nailed down the top, and porters took the box to the cars, thinking … that it was a box of goods. It was very hot in the box, and Henry could hardly breathe, there was so little air.  But he made up his mind to die rather than make a noise … Part of the way he travelled by water, and when the box was put on the steamboat, it was placed so that Henry’s head and back were down … He lay in this way, while the boat went twenty miles, and it nearly killed him.  He staid in his little box-house twenty-six hours; but could not eat any of his biscuit, and instead of drinking the water, he used it to bathe his hot face.

Thankfully, Henry survived, and he emerged out of his box at the home of an abolitionist. His jubilant emergence is captured in this wood-engraved illustration from Cousin Ann’s Stories, as well as in a political cartoon, and two broadsides held at AAS. Brown, himself, described his journey in the Narrative of Henry Box Brown, first published in Boston in 1849.

Ann Preston concludes her story about Henry Box Brown with a profound comment on the meaning of true heroism:

We call people heroes who do something that is brave and great, and Henry is a hero.

Henry Box Brown’s story has been told to a whole new generation of young readers by writer Ellen Levine and illustrator Kadir Nelson’s evocative picture book Henry’s Freedom Box (2007), which was named a Caldecott Honor Book.  Levine and Nelson skillfully convey the sadness and hope of Henry’s story, and the book provides an incisive introduction to the historical understanding of American slavery for today’s children.

Primary Sources on Henry Box Brown at AAS:

Escape From Slavery of Henry Box Brown in a Box 3 feet and 1 inch long, 2 feet wide, 2 feet and 6 inches high. (Boston, ca. 1849 or 1850)  Broadside.

Preston, Ann. Cousin Ann’s Stories for Children. (Philadelphia, 1849). Children’s book.

The Resurrection of Henry Box Brown at Philadelphia. (Boston, 1850). Political cartoon.


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European Political Prints On-line

February 5th, 2010, by Lauren Hewes

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european_cartoons_bm9170_croppedJust in time for your winter viewing pleasure (who needs football?), the Graphic Arts team is pleased to announce that an inventory of the European Political Print Collection is now on-line and is fully illustrated.  Have a look:

http://www.americanantiquarian.org/Inventories/Europeanprints/

This is the latest work by our Graphic Arts Assistant Jaclyn Penny, who inventoried, described, re-foldered, and digitized (for reference only) the collection of just over two hundred objects.  These are complicated prints and an image really is worth a thousand words.  The written descriptions are fantastic though, and we have a pdf for key-word searching (try devil, or Paine, or dog).  The images are all 150 dpi, so you can enlarge and zoom in to read the small text and see all the gory details (including paper texture and plate tone, for those who are really passionate about such things).

But why does AAS even have European Political Prints, you ask?  Well, the bulk of the collection illustrates Europe’s perceptions of the emerging colonies, the Revolutionary War period, and the War of 1812, so these objects offer a valuable comparison to the American political prints — allowing for a two-way conversation of cartoons and social satires.

So, give the pigskin a break and do a key word search on pig or on Patriot (no Saints or Vikings, alas) and enjoy!

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The Acquisitions Table: Only Known Copies

January 20th, 2010, by Tom Knoles

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This week we feature two items acquired by AAS in recent months.  What they have in common is that our copies are the only ones known to exist.  Given the age of these items (they were printed in 1795 and 1815 respectively) and given the fact that generations of bibliographers have labored to identify and locate every book, pamphlet and newspaper  known to have been printed in the United States when these were published,  it may seem strange indeed that we could acquire two such items during the same quarter.  However the fact is that although we know a great deal about what was printed in this period, new discoveries are not that uncommon. We always have pleasure in getting things we don’t already have, but that pleasure is much greater when things come into the building and we find that they seem to be unique copies.

They’re still out there, and that makes the search all the more exciting.

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The singers pocket companion. Being an abridgement from Arnold. Containing concisely the rules of psalmody: to which are added a number of pages with blank lines that music may be written by any who wish to select from the various collections now published. Southwick [MA?]: Printed and published by J. Langton, 1795.

A newly discovered early American music book, apparently published in Southwick, MA. If so, it is by several decades the earliest Southwick imprint. Like other music books, the text and ruled pages are oblong in shape and entirely engraved. The title page is signed “J. Allen”—presumably the Boston engraver Joel Knott Allen, who engraved other music books at this time—hence this work may also have been printed in Boston. “J. Langton” may be Job Langton (or Langdon), an early settler of Southwick.  The Preface states: “The design of this publication is to furnish Schools with a concise system of RULES for SINGING with Blank lines for the purpose of inserting TUNES at every ones pleasure. The advantage of this will appear in saving a great expence to Learners; and in giving Masters opportunity to introduce in their schools tunes of their own choice.” This copy bears a contemporary inscription: “Moses Andrews Singing Book January 19th AD 1795,” and the 44 pages with blank lines are entirely filled with manuscript music in a contemporary hand. Purchased from Savoy Books. Hugh Amory Memorial and General Library Acquisitions II Funds.

~ David Whitesell, Curator of Books

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True American (St. Clairsville, OH). Apr. 6, 1815.

AAS has acquired the only known issue of this title. When Clarence Brigham published History and Bibliography of American Newspapers 1690-1820 in 1947, he had located references to this newspaper, but no issues could be found. In 1961 he published a supplement in the AAS Proceedings, but he still had not located a copy. This issue turned up in a box of uncataloged miscellaneous issues given to AAS by the Missouri Historical Society in St. Louis. It confirms most of the information that Brigham gathered from secondary sources.

~ Vincent Golden, Curator of Newspapers and Periodicals


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Clean out your closets!

January 15th, 2010, by Lauren Hewes

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two_penny_whist_folder_17Recently the Graphic Arts staff at the American Antiquarian Society posted its latest illustrated inventory, a complete listing of political and social engraved satires from the Charles Peirce collection (yes, that last name is spelled correctly! Peirce, not Pierce!).  You can have a look by following this link http://www.americanantiquarian.org/Inventories/Peirce/

Like many collections here at the Society, the Peirce collection is amazing and rare and wonderful for many reasons.  It includes the only known copy of James Akins’ (1773-1846) sharp-witted cartoon The Philosophic Cock which depicts Thomas Jefferson as a rooster and his slave Sally Hemmings as a hen.  There are rich social satires by the English engravers Thomas Rowlandson (1756-1827) and George Cruikshank (1792-1878) that lampoon everything from fashion to dentistry in the early nineteenth century.

Twelfth_night_folder_40Our web resource for this collection features an introduction written by 2009 Last Fellow Allison Stagg (University of London) documenting her research on how the Peirce album was used in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.  Peirce, a bookseller, compiled the album then rented it out for parties – see the image Twelfth Night by Cruikshank (Folder 40) for a group of Brits using a set of prints in a similar manner.  We have also illustrated Peirce’s newspaper advertisements documenting the album, which Allison found in the course of her research.

What you will not learn from this great new finding aide is the way the album was originally found by the donors.  In a compelling little essay titled “All I wanted to do was put the vacuum cleaner in the closet,” the donor, Edith Fisher Hunter, describes how she discovered the somewhat-tattered, portfolio-sized album among a large group of books from her spouse’s multi-generational family library.  The books had been boxed up and shoved into the hall closet under the stairs during various moves and renovations in the 1798/1810 family farmhouse.

Poll_of_horselydown_folder_25 _croppedUntil 1990, the boxes had been competing for space with the vacuum cleaner and tubs of Christmas decorations.  One muggy August day, while trying to cram the vac into the closet, Edith decided enough was enough. She pulled everything out and began sorting. The results: two boxes of material relating to bookseller and relative Charles Peirce were put aside, including the album of caricatures.  It all eventually made its way to AAS, much to our pleasure.  “The closet in the hall is delightfully empty,” Edith wrote in her conclusion, “The box of Christmas decorations fit into the closet very nicely as does the vacuum cleaner!”  The moral of this tale could be – It is never too late to tackle spring cleaning. Or, for those of us who lack acute housekeeping motivation – Clean out the closet to avoid dealing with the dust and dog hair on the rugs.  Yep, I admit it.  I’d rather lose myself in twelve boxes of early American imprints than push the Hoover!


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The gentleman doth protest too much

January 11th, 2010, by Diann Benti

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Background: The books in the AAS collection began appearing long before a comprehensive cataloging system. Building on the foundational donation of Isaiah Thomas’ personal library, members sent books to the Society, and according to the letter transcribed below, at times also removed them.

lincoln_letter_croppedItem: A letter from AAS member and prominent Worcester lawyer William Lincoln to statesman and AAS member John Davis written August 16, [1829].

Found by: AAS-NEH Fellow Mary Beth Sievens, Associate Professor of History, SUNY-Fredonia.

Location: Lincoln Family Papers, Box 5, Folder 1.

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Hon John Davis.

By night.

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Worcester August 16

Dear Major

Two or three weeks since, in pursuance of an understanding withlincoln_letter the members of the Antiquarian Council, I took from the Antiquarian Library three or four volumes which I considered as so indecent and vile that they should not be kept by a decent Society or read by any respectable person. Among them were “Wilkes Essay on Women” and “Rochesters Poems.” I took them, for the purpose of burning them and brought them home, and, unfortunately left them in a drawer in my chamber, intending to purge the earth of such polluted shapes of conception on the earliest opportunity. Still more unfortunately, I left them covered with my clothes, in the drawer when I removed—I cannot express to you the mingled feelings of shame and sorrow I have [felt] this evening on finding all of them missing—I would not for slight consideration be suspected of having such works of damnation in my possession—still less of keeping the accursed trash for my private study—and least of all of being accessory to its circulation. I ask it as a special favor that you will remove them and keep them safely in your own own [sic] most safe deposit until I can consign them to a more secure resting place.

Obliged to be absent early in the morning and coming like a thief, by night, I have no other means of communication than pen and paper afford or I should personally and bodily express to you my grief for the consequences of my carelessness in this matter. Baldwin will confirm my story, and exonerate me from the disgrace of having ever begged, bought or stolen this base coinage of prostituted genius.

Good Night Dear Sir, and accept the assurances of the unqualified regard of respect of your distressed friend

William Lincoln.

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PastIsPresent Postscript: The AAS archives do not reveal how John Wilkes’ “Essay on Women” or the Earl of Rochester’s Poems might have arrived in the stacks.  Lincoln would have been consoled to learn that today the library no longer collects such items — that is, books published in Britain instead of the United States.  But he would undoubtedly be horrified to learn of our recent acquisition of American risque literature: twelve 19th century translations of the work of French novelist Paul de Kock.


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The Acquisitions Table: Ira Hill’s Memorial

January 7th, 2010, by Tom Knoles

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Those of us who are located in the chilly Northeast are already beginning to dream of spring and gardens.  Curator of books David Whitesell describes Ira Hill’s proposal for a very special garden for Washington D.C.

Hill, Ira, ca. 1783-1838. Ira Hill’s memorial, and remarks to Congress. [N.p., 1824]

Second recorded copy of this intriguing proposal for a ten-acre three-dimensional garden map of the world, in Mercator projection, to be built adjacent to the U. S. Capitol building.  Hill was a Maryland schoolteacher best known for his theory that the enigmatic Dighton Rock bore inscriptions from an expedition sent to the New World by the Biblical King Solomon. Here he proposes a botanical novelty unsurpassed for its beauty and pedagogical utility. In Hill’s garden, “the United States from the Atlantic to the Pacific will be one hundred and sixty feet” in length, and major topographical features such as oceans and mountain ranges would be depicted (albeit not so visually impressive even at this scale). Congress could have all this for only $10,000 up front, eventually refunded through a half share in future profits from ticket sales. Hill presented his petition in April 1824. Despite offering to scale the project back to a map of the United States alone, he failed to attract the necessary votes, and the garden remained unbuilt. Purchased from Savoy Books. General Library Acquisitions II Fund.

~ David Whitesell


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The Acquisitions Table: Scripture Scenes

December 28th, 2009, by Tom Knoles

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If the holiday leftovers are still lurking in our refrigerators, we figure there’s still time for one more Christmas-themed post, courtesy of Curator of Children’s Literature Laura Wasowicz.   The charming engraving below raises two interesting questions you might want to mull over as you finish off the pecan pie.  First, where would Anderson have seen the image upon which this engraving is based? I’m guessing it was reproduced in a book or as a print he saw.  Second, what is that object in front of the kneeling Magus? Perhaps it has to do with gold, frankincense or myrrh? Or is it his turban? Is it a recognizable part of the iconography of the Magi?

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Fawcett, John, 1740-1817. Scripture Scenes. Cadiz, OH: H. Anderson, 1829.

This is a scarce early Ohio imprint; it is rarer still in that it contains nine hand-colored metal engravings probably executed by its publisher Hugh Anderson (1782-1866), who worked as an engraver in Philadelphia prior to his move to Ohio. Anderson based this engraving of the Adoration of the Wise Men upon a painting by the 16th-century Italian master Jacopo Bassano, shedding new light on the types of access that American children living in the Old Northwest had to Renaissance art. Purchased from David M. Lesser. Ruth E. Adomeit Book Fund.

~ Laura Wasowicz


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Do you hear what I hear?

December 22nd, 2009, by Diann Benti

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santa_claus

Within the roughly 60,000 pieces of sheet music in the AAS collection, a devilish and spry Santa Claus waits for just this time of year.  At the first talk of Christmas, he appears, dancing on a chimney while playing the violin.  This 1846 incarnation of Santa Claus stands on the cover of the Santa Claus Quadrilles, painted by the anonymous Spoodlyks. The accompanying music was composed by Harvey B. Dodworth.

Separated into five parts and characterized by sections of eight measures, the quadrille was intended as popular dance music.  The 6/8 beat of two of the parts encouraged intricate steps and was a forerunner to the square dance.

In the spirit of Dodworth’s Quadrille Band, the AAS Readers’ Services Follies offer you a small sampling of the music: No. 5 of the Quadrilles played by Andrew Bourque. We’ve provided the music itself, but you’ll have to bring the dancing. Happy Holidays!

Santa Claus Quadrilles No. 5


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Type Findings: Introducing the AAS Printers’ File

December 21st, 2009, by Ashley Cataldo

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Avis G. Clarke, cataloger-cum-researcher of early American imprints and printers, Avis Clarke filled hundreds of AAS card catalogue drawers with the AAS printers’ file. Detailing the lives and works of virtually every printer working in America before 1820, the printers’ file is a masterpiece of indexing. Comprising 134 drawers of biographical, printing, and publication history for a vast number of printers before 1820, and 11 drawers for the post-1820 period, the printers’ file represents the perfect merger of detailed research and scholarly vision on the world of early American printing.

printers_file
As I methodically enter Ms. Clarke’s carefully compiled data into a series of spreadsheets that translate her print index into digital format, I imagine that Ms. Clarke’s own curiosity must have been piqued by printers like James Draper Bemis. printers_file_bemis_diedSued for libel by Micah Brooks in 1811, Brooks was one of the earliest surveyors of New York state and would go on to become U.S. Representative in the Fourteenth Congress. Bemis’ own newspapers, the Western Repository (1804-1809), the Ontario Repository (1809-1828), and the Onandaga Register (1814-1817), all at AAS, leave no record of the libel suit. (For further information on the libel suit, click here). Just as mysterious is Bemis’ commitment to the Utica State Hospital in 1848, release in 1849, and re-commitment to the Vermont Asylum for the Insane in 1850, where he died in November of 1857. Clarke never pried into Bemis’ life, yet her cards consistently tug at the curious researcher.

Ms. Clarke had to combine the skills of historian, genealogist, and bibliographer as she created the printers’ file. She never judged or discriminated against the printers: each printer received his own set of cards, in some cases one or two and in others a half-drawer full. Ms. Clarke had to sort through some complex histories of printing families, such as the Adams family. James Adams, patriarch and first printer in Wilmington, DE, was father to John Adams, publisher of the Delaware Courant. James Adams’ firm, James Adams & Sons, comprised James, John, James Jr. and Samuel. Samuel and John published the Delaware and Eastern-Shore Advertiser from 1794-1799, while Samuel and James Jr. printer together in 1786. The whole family printed together from 1788-1789. Sorting through the interwoven histories of family history and newspaper publishing seemed to become one, but only one, of Ms. Clarke’s specialties.

The printers’ file is an AAS treasure, and Ms. Clarke’s excruciatingly detailed work remains an exemplar of AAS cataloging, scholarship, and research. Keep reading PastisPresent for more from Type Findings.


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The Acquisitions Table: “U.C., or, How to Keep Sharp in Dull Times”

December 16th, 2009, by Tom Knoles

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As we celebrate the holiday season it’s also good to be mindful of those less fortunate than ourselves.  2009 has no monopoly on hard times, as Curator of Books David Whitesell’s account of a recently acquired 1873 pamphlet shows.  This very curious little item also carries a mystery in its title, U.C. There is nothing in the pamphlet to suggest what “U.C” stands for.  We welcome your suggestions.

Hyde, Walter. U. C., or How to keep sharp in dull times. New York: Yorkville Monitor, 158 86th Street, 1873.

Stock market crashes and bank failures? Yes, 1873 was a very bad year for the American economy. After serious but unspecified business reversals, Walter Hyde tried to make ends meet as a knife sharpener on New York’s Upper East Side. He also produced this unrecorded example of mendicant literature: a small pamphlet of his verse reflections on the times, with frequent references to sharpening and grinding:

For I have been rich;–UC

Am now in the ditch,

And trying to keep my poise.

And as I go

I sharpen so,

That the angry hardened steel,

Becomes sharp as wit,

By the flying grit,

And illustrates how I feel.

(Purchased from Ian Brabner at the RBMS Preconference Book Fair, Charlottesville, VA.)


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Santa Claus Exposed

December 14th, 2009, by Diann Benti

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AAS’s The Children’s Friend: A New Year’s Present is one of just two known copies of the 1821 pamphlet.  Fifteen centimeters tall and eight pages deep, the paper-covered volume stood little chance of survival in the hands of generations of American children. But there was one family fastidious enough for the task, and by chance they would be among AAS’s most important benefactors.

The Salisbury family provided AAS, notably, with two of its presidents, 67 boxes and an additional 100 bound volumes in manuscript materials, and the land for the library’s current home. In 1897 the Society also received the childhood book of  one of those presidents, Stephen Salisbury III. Six-year old Stephen received The Children’s Friend in 1841 as a gift from Kitty Lawrence.

What makes this little book so important?  Put simply it is believed to be the first American Christmas picture book. But we asked Laura Wasowicz, Curator of Children’s Literature, and Gigi Barnhill, Director of CHAViC for a few more details.

  • chimneys~The publishing location, New York City, is important. The brick chimneys visible as “Old Santeclaus” lands his sleigh indicate an urban environment.
  • ~The pamphlet falls within a set of attempts by well-to-do New Yorkers to domesticize the holiday from a time for rowdy alcohol-infused parties and mob revelry to a safe, family-focused holiday. The Children’s Friend joined efforts by New York Historical Society founder John Pintard and Clement Clarke Moore (author of the poem “A Visit from St. Nicholas” first published in 1823).*
  • ~The story offers the first visit by St. Nicholas on Christmas Eve (instead of his Saint’s day December 6th), as well as the first appearance of his reindeer.
  • ~While the “long, black birchen rod” left for parents with naughty sons might seem a harsh ending to modern readers, it was in keeping with the parlance of the day. In a time when a children’s book might conclude with a child burned to death for playing too close to the fire, The Children’s Friend is in fact a gentle cautionary tale.
  • family~The Children’s Friend is considered the first American example of a completely lithographed book.  Lithography (the practice of drawing on limestone with waxy crayons to create a master image that absorbed ink) was introduced in the United States in the early 1800s.
  • ~Unlike engraving, lithography did not require the same high level of skill to execute and could make up to 100,000 impressions with one stone.  But the technology did require special equipment and a specific type of printing press.
  • ~Barnet and Doolittle, the firm that likely lithographed the pamphlet, was the first commercial lithographic printing shop to be established in the U.S.
  • santeclaus_text~The publishers used lithography as an inexpensive alternative to engraving and avoided the expense of multiple presses by lithographing both illustration and text (you can see that the text looks handwritten).
  • ~The color, added by hand after printing, suggests the pamphlet was expensive to buy.

*Historian Stephen Nissenbaum discusses The Children’s Friend and explores the transition to a family-oriented holiday in The Battle for Christmas (New York, 1996). Nissenbaum did much of his research at AAS  as a long-term fellow.


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The Acquisitions Table

December 11th, 2009, by Tom Knoles

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In 1834, AAS librarian Christopher Columbus Baldwin wrote: “Some philosopher has said that his unhappiest moments were those spent in settling his tavern bills.  But the happiest moments of my life are those employed in opening packages of books presented to the Library of the American Antiquarian Society.  It gives me real, substantial, and unadulterated comfort.   It is then that like glorious Tam O Shanter, I am ‘O’er the ills of life victorious.’”

I can report that 175 years later the source of Baldwin’s joy continues to give “real, substantial, and unadulterated comfort” to those of us who are fortunate enough to see what arrives daily for the AAS library.

The Acquisitions Table

The acquisitions department staff (Peg Lesinski, Sarah Barnard and Anne Hendrickson) and the curators (Vince Golden, Lauren Hewes, Laura Wasowicz, David Whitesell and myself) are all involved in various aspects of acquiring and processing material for the collections. We order from dealers via catalogs and quotes, we purchase at auction (including many items from eBay), and we receive gifts, sometimes unsolicited (more on that below) and sometimes after much work with potential donors.

On arrival all of these things land on the acquisitions table.  It is an unassuming table, three and a half by eight feet. It is located in the acquisitions department, and it is on this table that each day’s arriving mail is first sorted, and packages from the post office and other carriers are brought to be opened.  Frequently, its twenty-eight square feet aren’t sufficient to hold our newly received booty and it is a continuing challenge to the acquisitions department staff to keep up with new acquisitions and send them along for eventual cataloging, shelving, and use by readers.

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The accompanying photograph shows the table as it was at 1:30 p.m. on Thursday, December 10.  The piles of books in the background are 149 volumes just given to us by a university library.  These are odd volumes, many of them parts of incomplete sets.  It will be our job to check each volume against our holdings, and with luck we will add a number of things we don’t have, fill in gaps in broken sets, or identify variant bindings or copies in better condition than the ones we currently have.  But before we do anything else, we need to vacuum them because they’re very dusty!

To the left of the front row is the manuscript account book of a gin distiller in Enfield, Massachusetts in the 1820s.  Enfield no longer exists. It was one of the “Quabbin Towns” flooded in the late 1930s during the construction of the Quabbin Reservoir.  Moving right we see a small tintype showing a rather cross looking baby girl; a partly printed 1859 certificate stating that an African American sailor named Aldridge Sanders is an American citizen; John Keegan’s new military history of the Civil War, and some recently received U.S. government documents (we are a depository library, in fact the first one to be so designated by Congress—in 1814).

Although much comes in, there is still plenty for us to seek out and acquire.  We are omnivorous in our appetite for material printed in the United States before 1877—if we don’t already have it, we want it, and even if we do have it, we might want another copy if it is slightly different or in better condition than the one we have.  We also add secondary materials to the collections to support research here.

Once in a while a gift arrives that we can’t really use, such as the suitcase that we found on our doorstep early one morning a few months ago. There was no name or note with it, and on opening it we found that it contained newspapers with stories about the JFK assassination and the first Moon landing.  We’ll try to find a good home at another institution for the newspapers, although I’m less sanguine about the future of the suitcase.

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Since you, dear reader, do not have the opportunity we do to stop by acquisitions and see what’s on the table today, we want to offer you a chance to experience some of the excitement we feel about newly acquired items.  Every week or so Past is Present will highlight a recent arrival.  Our curators will explain why each one is interesting and why we want it for our collections.  I hope you will find these items as wonderful, interesting, and sometimes quirky as we do.


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Christmas Treasures: Flip through the pages of The Children’s Friend

December 7th, 2009, by Diann Benti

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childrens_friend_stocking_croppedIt’s that time of year. Time to take ornaments out of boxes, shake the dust from stockings, and hang wreaths on front doors.  The holiday season is no different at AAS. santaDecember is the one month when it’s appropriate to pull out all of our wonderful Christmas treasures– after all who wants to see Santa Claus in July?  We hope you will enjoy (or bear with us) as we share these seasonal gifts from our collections.

And we’re starting big with the 1821 Children’s Friend. Curator of children’s literature, Laura Wasowicz, gives this little softcover book a heartfelt endorsement, “I never get tired of looking at it.” Read it now and check back with us next Monday for a behind-the-pages discussion with our curators.

N.B.: Clicking on the corner of any page below will turn the page, and double-clicking on one of the amazing illustrations will zoom in for a more detailed view. Hope you enjoy this treasure as much as we have!


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You say “Shah-vick,” I say “Chay-vick”: An Introduction to the Center for Historic American Visual Culture

December 4th, 2009, by Georgia Barnhill

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Inadvertently, three graduate students were responsible for the creation of the Center for Historic American Visual Culture (CHAVic). Two appeared at AAS asking if we had 18th century prints or lithographs of wedding ceremonies.  Another spoke of the struggle to convince her dissertation committee that a history thesis could focus successfully on stereographs.  Between the printed word relied on by historians and the fine art prized by art historians lies a world of visual culture often misunderstood or overlooked in the study of America’s past.

heavenly_nine_croppedEstablished in 2005 by the AAS Council, CHAViC’s mission is to provide opportunities for educators to learn about American visual culture and resources, promote the awareness of AAS collections, and stimulate research and intellectual inquiry into American visual materials. The Center received major funding in the spring of 2008 that has enabled AAS to undertake some great initiatives.  To see the full panoply of activities from the first teacher workshop held in 2006 to the most recent conference held in October, visit the newest AAS website:  http://www.chavic.org.

For readers of this blog, perhaps the most visible aspect of CHAViC is the enhancement of access to collections previously available only in Antiquarian Hall.  Even within the library, many of the collections lacked finding aids and were accessible only on the suggestion of the curator of graphic arts or readers’ services staff. Now that AAS has staff to catalog separately published prints and to produce inventories, the situation has changed dramatically.  Searching on the phrase “American Art Union” in the online catalog for example, will bring up over 30 detailed catalog records for the prints in the collection.  In due course, images will be linked to these records.  There are also records of 385 gift book illustrations!  In the past three months over 650 engravings have been carefully described with funds from the National Endowment for the Humanities.

The most recent collection inventory to be created is European Political Prints.  There are now fully illustrated inventories of:

drawings_box9_folder14-Photograph Portraits of Native Americans

-Cased Photographs (Daguerreotypes, Ambrotypes, and Tintypes),

-the David Claypoole Johnston Collection

-Hawaiian Engravings

-Drawings

-Portrait Paintings and Miniatures

-Photographs of Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century Structures in Massachusetts taken by Harriette Merrifield Forbes.

Surf the AAS Collections Page for other tantalizing graphic arts collections!

For interpretative projects focusing on AAS collections, check out the online exhibitions portion of the CHAViC website.  AAS archives all of its exhibitions.

I hope you will enjoy the new CHAViC website and that we will hear from you if you have questions or want to submit proposals for conferences or fellowships.

Georgia Barnhill, Director

Center for Historic American Visual Culture

Gbarnhill (at) mwa.org


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It’s all in the timing

November 18th, 2009, by Diann Benti

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Proof that humor is not a modern invention:  a joke to lighten our Wednesdays direct from John Davis to AAS Librarian Christopher Columbus Baldwin in the close of a February 4, 1832 letter.

Can you tell why a catterpillar [sic] is like a woman churning butter? catterpillar

Do you give it up?

Because she makes butterfly.

No groans please.  This joke comes from a very dignified source. In 1832, John Davis was serving his third term in Congress. He would go on to become governor of Massachusetts as well as a senator.  And most importantly (of course), he served as AAS president from 1853 until his death in 1854.

Known as “Honest John,” Davis distinguished himself as an uncompromising anti-slavery Whig, an adversary of President Andrew Jackson, and a staunch opponent of the Compromise of 1850.  After his death at sixty seven, one newspaper described him as a “very practical and honest”  statesman.  In the April 1854 AAS Proceedings, council member Thomas Kinnicutt remembered him warmly as, “social in his habits, genial in his disposition, and constant in his friendships.”

The papers of John Davis are held in the AAS manuscript collection.


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Halloween Terror: The Glass-Eyed Ghouls

October 30th, 2009, by Diann Benti

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In the mid 1800s, people began appearing with eyes so clear they were nearly invisible.  The ghostly faces stared straight ahead without a hint of shame in their alien faces. They haunt us still, following us from countless daguerreotypes, ambrotypes, and cartes-de-visite, warning us of a different time.  A fearful era when to be photogenic meant being brown-eyed. The blue-eyed subject was a fright!

ghostly_eyes

If light was the “photographer’s pencil” (as an 1866 manual described it), in the hands of an amateur it could create a mess of distortion and shadow.  Without proper direction, blue and gray eyes, unable to reflect the light, were overexposed.   The Photographic Art Journal from 1853 recommended limiting the exposure time for blue-eyed subjects, “otherwise the eyes are lost” (Volume 5, p. 356). In those early years of photography, the best option for the light-eyed was to avoid looking directly into the camera, but as a writer in Humphrey’s Journal complained,

It is not an uncommon fault among our less experienced operators to give a front view of the face of nearly every individual regardless of any particular form, and this is often insisted upon by the sitter, who seems to think the truth of the picture exists principally in the eyes staring the beholder full in the face.  (February 1853 p. 329)

parson_brownellImages affected by the creepy-eye phenomenon could be darkened. The cartes-de-visite of William Brownlow, at right, show two different images of Brownlow, one with untouched light eyes and the other with darkened irises. Who would you prefer to meet handing out Halloween candy?

The most successful method for dealing with the problem was to fix the eyeline on a spot away from the camera.  An averted gaze and a turned profile might lack the directness of a forward stare but it eliminated the risk of a portrait with an “expression vacant, dull and pale, soulless eyes, like those of a dead codfish” (Photographic Art Journal, p. 117).

As AAS wishes everyone a happy Halloween, we leave you with a final scare: another solution, though less-recommended, to add pupils oneself with ink.

john_bartlett


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One more thing about me…

October 22nd, 2009, by Diann Benti

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An online fad became a journalistic obsession with a late-winter craze known as “25 Random Things.” Members of the social networking site Facebook began crafting lists about themselves: personal histories, likes, and dislikes — self-identified quirks describable in a sentence they then displayed for others to see.

25 Random Things

The only thing that seemed to equal the number of posters was the number of critics, often appearing with newspaper bylines. Eager to explore, criticize, and then predictably offer their own personal list, one judgment was clear: “narcissism,” even going as far as “tedious mass solipsism.”  In trying to comb the depths of “25 Things,” one journalist tunneled into the past:

Despite how it might feel to those who have suddenly been bombarded with these lists, the meme itself did not come out of nowhere.  To the contrary, viral e-mail messages designed to help friends discover unusual facts about one another are as old as e-mail itself (Douglas Quenqua, “Ah, Yes, More about Me?  Here are ‘25 Random Things,’” New York Times, February 5, 2009).

Is that as far back as we can go?  The present rarely surprises history.  I take your “email itself” and raise you a century.

Slipped deep in the AAS shelves are two books, the first published in 1869 sits a few feet away from its 2nd edition progeny. Their catalog entries are minimal with only two subject headings: 1) Amusements 2) Psychological recreations. But within their covers, one finds a gentle reminder of our shared impulses, our timeless fascination with our own individuality, and our interest in defining ourselves and comparing the results with those of our peers.  Mental Photographs: An Album for Confessions of Tastes, Habits, and Convictions offered forty prompts to be filled out among friends.  The questions seem innocuous now, and of a decidedly Victorian slant: favorite season, favorite character in romance, favorite tree, etc.  But Mental Photographs offers an interesting glance into American tastes, sensibilities, and humor in the years following the Civil War and suggests its usefulness for a number of different research questions. Answers to prompts such as “the trait of character you most admire” in man and woman, offer insights into perceptions of gender. Questions relating to favorite poets, prose authors, and books inspired humor, “pocket-book—if filled,” but also reveal tastes of the day, with responses like Longfellow, Dickens, Tennyson, and Thackeray.

Excerpt from Miss Jennie McCormick's entry of January 16, 1878

Excerpt from Miss Jennie McCormick's entry of January 16, 1878

Now, as then, this shared framework coaxed participants to reveal something about themselves.  Notably in our image-laden world, “25 Things” occurred as simple black and white text; sparse, especially on a site named “Facebook.”  The respondents to Mental Photographs had the option to affix a carte-de-visite portrait alongside their answers; only one in the AAS copies chose to do so.  Perhaps in their own image-laden world (the inexpensive 2 1/8” x 3 ½” cards sold in the millions during the second half of the nineteenth century), they embraced the opportunity to gather together and draw themselves beyond the limitations of the camera lens.  We are left with a unique and endearing snapshot of thirty-five individuals who stand out both in their differences to us and their remarkable similarities.

In keeping with the fashion, please visit the AAS Facebook page to see our own list of “25 things” you may not know about the American Antiquarian Society.

Mrs. Shoemaker's entry from July 1869.

Mrs. Shoemaker's entry from July 1869.


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The Original Balloon Boy: Edgar Allan Poe?

October 21st, 2009, by Diann Benti

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balloon_hoax_modelHave you heard the one about the balloon boy? No, not that balloon boy.  On April 13, 1844, the New York Sun printed an extra edition reporting that man had finally flown across the Atlantic.  In a balloon.

A postscript in the April 13th morning edition of the Sun taunted readers,

We stop the press at a late hour, to announce that … we are just put in possession of full details of the most extraordinary adventure ever accomplished by man…The Extra will be positively ready, and for sale at our counter, by 10′clock this morning.

balloon_hoax_headlineThrongs formed before the Sun building waiting into the afternoon for their own copy of the newspaper.  In the end though, the readership of the New York Sun may have been more suspicious than those crowded breathlessly around their televisions last week. The Sun, a penny press, had a history of encouraging sales with outrageous stories.

Reporting on the story, the Philadelphia Inquirer reminded readers that, “The Sun, it will be remembered, originally published the celebrated Moon Story Hoax. The foregoing is probably from the same pen.  We have Charleston papers [where the balloon supposedly landed] of the 11th, which of course, do not contain a word in relation to the wonderful adventure.”

The Sun retracted the article two days later, “we are inclined to believe the intelligence is erroneous” but noted that regardless, it “was read with great pleasure and satisfaction.” And the author of the hoax, Edgar Allan Poe, defended his story, “There is nothing put forth in the Balloon-Story which is not in full keeping with the known facts of aeronautic experience—which might not really have occurred.”

balloon_hoax_poeWhere does the American Antiquarian Society fit into the frenzy? We have the only known copy of that April 13, 1844 extra.  On August 29, 1929 in response to a letter by AAS librarian Clarence Brigham, the editor of The Sun Frank M. O’Brien revealed that their archives held no copy of it and thus, “It is quite possible, I should say, that the American Antiquarian Society is the only owner of a copy of the Balloon Hoax Extra.  If so, it is something to be proud of.”


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Your Daily Dose

October 19th, 2009, by Diann Benti

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What’s the world coming to? adams_john_quincy

John Quincy Adams is tweeting from 1808  and our own anonymous blacksmith’s apprentice is blogging away right above these very words.  Following Adams’ debut on Twitter, one of the  librarians from the Massachusetts Historical Society explained that, “We want to get it out there to the technophile generation … We want a wider range and new audience to see the diaries” (“John Quincy Adams, Twitterer?” by Katie Zezim in The New York Times, August 5, 2009).

The AAS is taking a different stand:  we don’t just want a new audience.  The Blacksmith’s blog is also for those readers who actually might hold the apprentice’s journal in the reading room — trying to hurry through his year before we turn the lights off at five. Using one of our fastest technologies (the Internet), we’re slowing down your interaction with a once-a-day diarist to a post a day. In other words, you’re on his time now.

blacksmith_Lithf_ Pran_BlacThere will always be the opportunity to reduce the lived life to a hyphen  and parentheses, to train the eye to find just the momentous or tragic.  But these blog posts, scheduled to correspond 140 years ago to the day, attempt to share the historical life as a daily occurrence.  A place where monotony, loneliness, and cold weather mean a lot more than memory often relays, and where, at the same time, flirtations or cake can add a rosy glow to any 24-hour period.

Don’t let all the talk about dailyness mislead.  This young man measured time in years and in accomplishment just like the rest of us. He analyzed his past and anticipated his future. The month of October itself was meaningful in terms of his apprenticeship.  Towards the end of September as a colleague graduated to journeyman, the apprentice counseled himself, “I suppose mine will be as near out sometime if I wait but it looks a good deal ahead now, have patience my boy and persevere” (September 16, 1869).

blacksmith_sept_16_entry

October marked the conclusion of his first year working and learning in the Medfield, Massachusetts blacksmith shop, and he noted it in his journal:

October 2, 1869:  My year is almost up only think, now time  goes goes [sic] off, I hope the next two years will go as pleasant.

October 11, 1869: One year gone of my apprenticeship.  Thanks be to God for his love to me the past year.  My pay is to rise a quarter a day now I expect.

October 12, 1869: My New Year commences to day one third of my time gone another third commences.

“Another week is begun soon it will be past then another will come,” the apprentice observed on January 18, 1869.  Was he acknowledging time’s movement resignedly or expectantly? In retrospect we rarely grasp onto life as a series of individual days; we tend to remember feelings, relationships, professions, and events. The day is a time interval that structures the moment, but quickly blurs in the past.  We hope reading the apprentice’s blog offers new insights and becomes part of your daily ritual.



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