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Music religious thoughts inspires,
And kindles in us pure desires;
Gives pleasure to a well-tun’d mind,
The most exalted and refin’d

Music the coldest heart can warm,
The hardest melt, the fiercest charm;
Disarm the savage of his rage,
Dispel our cares, and pains assuage:

With joy it can our souls inspire,
And tune our tempers to the lyre;
Our passions like the notes agree,
And stand subdu’d by harmony.

~ from Select Psalms and Hymns for the use of Mr. Adgate’s Pupils

These verses serve as part of an introduction to a hymnal produced in Philadelphia in 1787. The rhetoric regarding music’s affective power is familiar – music soothing the savage beast – but its use here further highlights the many roles that sacred music filled in early America. In addition to rousing religious devotion, music was supposed to uplift the spirit, please the mind, and bring diverse forces into harmony. It was both art and science, duty and offering, individual and communal, education and entertainment, transcendent and easy.

Music was also a commodity. Music instruction books had been published in the colonies from early in the eighteenth century, although the tunebook proper is usually traced to James Lyon’s Urania of 1760. Tunebooks were increasingly published locally or regionally, sometimes for use by a particular group or traveling singing master. They were oblong in format, neatly holding one or two psalm tunes per page. Most followed a pattern of prefatory material, introductory explanations of musical knowledge (often called “rudiments”), and repertoire, which may be further divided according to difficulty. Credit for the first sacred music book set in type in America goes to the press of Christoph Saur, and by century’s end the majority of sacred music publications were printed from type while the more expensive engraving process was generally reserved for secular sheet music.

Friends of AAS may not be surprised to know that Isaiah Thomas recognized the potential of sacred music, even though he described himself as “unskilled in musick.” He was editor and publisher of the influential The Worcester Collection, which went to eight editions from 1786 to 1803. Thomas writes of his own motivation for entering the sacred music scene in the Collection’s preface:

Having observed with pleasure the attention paid to Church Musick, by most classes of people in the New-England States, and knowing many of the books now in use, necessarily high-charged, owing to their being printed from Copper-plates, he was induced both by inclination, and at the request of several friends to attempt a work of this kind from types; hoping to afford it somewhat cheaper than any other book of its bigness printed after the usual manner.

Thomas proved accurate in his claims; Karl Kroeger, who wrote his Ph.D. dissertation on The Worcester Collection, cites it as the first mass market tunebook publication due to its reduced cost and repertoire selected to appeal to a broad audience. The process of printing also aided in this pursuit, since the repertoire could change with every edition to keep up with new developments and user feedback. Perhaps we should suggest music as business venture as a suitable verse to add to the lofty sentiments above.

Ursula Crosslin is a Ph.D. Candidate in Musicology at Ohio State University. She was awarded a 2009-10 Reese Fellowship at the American Antiquarian Society to research her project: “The Institution of the American Church Choir in Philadelphia, 1760-1860.”

Further reading: Karl Douglas Kroeger, “The Worcester Collection of Sacred Harmony and Sacred Music in America, 1786-1803” (Ph.D. diss., Brown University, 1977).

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Tags: fellows, Isaiah Thomas, music

Apple Pie Bake-Off Or The Sweet Taste of Revenge

November 5th, 2009, by Diann Benti

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In the October 1813 Report of the Committee, Isaiah Thomas justified the choice of Worcester for the home of the American Antiquarian Society. He maintained that an “inland situation” offered the best protection against,

the destruction so often experienced in large towns and cities by fire, as well as from the ravages of an enemy, to which seaports in particular are so much exposed in times of war.

War and fire. Yeah right, Mr. T. We know the real reason you picked Worcester: the apples. From the end of August into late November, the orchards in the surrounding hills gently rock us out of summer and into the sweet lull of autumn. We are eventually deposited harshly onto winter’s doorstep. But up until that point, it is a reverie of fresh apples. So in the spirit of a New England autumn, an apple pie experiment.

The Premise: Four pies sharing the same crust recipe and apple varieties (Gravenstein, Northern Spy, Baldwin, and Golden Delicious to be exact). The differences would be the spices and sweeteners used in the filling: three from historical recipes and one from a modern cookbook. As with the pound cake experiment, our testers would be the AAS fellows.

The Historic Recipes: Most of us are familiar with apple pies starring apples coated in white (or brown) sugar with a dash of cinnamon or nutmeg. We kept the modern recipe modern, but took advantage of historical recipes that called for unexpected sweeteners.

Powdered Sugar/Rose Water Recipe from The Virginia Housewife by Mary Randolph, 1836

White Wine and Lemon Recipe from Mrs. Putnam’s Receipt Book by Elizabeth Putnam, 1860

and finally…

Let’s be honest, lately these fellows have been working hard, turning in call slip after call slip for materials the reference staff then pages. Their industry is our sore feet. But we can’t say no. Instead it was time for a different kind of revenge:

The Molasses-Sweetened Recipe from The Young Housekeeper’s Friend by Mary H. Cornelius, 1846

The unwitting accomplices: Jess “Could have been a pastry chef” Lepler, Hench Post-Dissertation fellow and assistant professor of History at the University of New Hampshire, Emily “Queen of the Crusts” Pawley, AAS-NEH fellow and Ph.D. in the History of Science (2009), University of Pennsylvania, and Allison “I don’t really cook” Stagg, Last fellow and Ph.D. Candidate in Art History, University College, University of London.

The Process: Pie making is a relatively boring task. One part was thrilling: the discovery of a cheese grater to easily add the cold butter to the crust dough. The rest was pretty straight forward: peel, cut, mix, pour, and repeat. The historic recipes forced us to make educated guesses on what exactly a “teacup” of molasses, a “little” mace, or a “few tea-spoonsful” of rosewater actually meant–caution usually guiding our judgment.

Before the crust covering, there was time for a snapshot of one pie. (t looks delicious when you think it’s chocolate…)

The Results: Victory! “The molasses one was vile. It was gross. It was disgusting,” said one esteemed fellow. “Horrible,” proclaimed another. That’ll teach them.

But what of the other pies?

The powdered sugar/rosewater pie prompted the most broadly split opinion. The cloves created a particularly pronounced flavor that some found an odd combination with the perfumy and off-putting rosewater; others were disappointed they couldn’t taste the rosewater more. As spirits are likely to do, the wine-flavored pie swayed many a fellow. The final score tallied, the white wine pie tied with the modern one in terms of taste. One fellow concluded, “We Americans should be eating wine pie.”

The fresh, tart taste of the modern and wine recipes complimented the crisp apples purchased that day from an orchard. Would this story have ended differently if the experiment took place in the middle of winter with mushy apples two months old? The weighty flavors of the molasses and powdered sugar/rosewater recipes might help mask less-than-delicious apples.

The Take-Away: When you are going to torture library fellows make sure your boss isn’t there. But from Ellen Dunlap, AAS president and unexpected tester, the thoughtful conclusion that our palettes may be more comfortable with subtle flavors. She preferred the modern pie, enjoying the complexity of its spices to the more monotone qualities of the historically-inspired ones. “I kind of liked the first taste of the rosewater and the wine, but they quickly got boring,” she said. And apparently even presidents don’t care for molasses-sweetened pie.

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Tags: apple pie, autumn, cooking, dessert, fellows

Let them eat cake

October 13th, 2009, by Diann Benti

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If one thing connects Americans over the centuries, it’s dessert. Vanilla may have replaced rose water, the electric mixer (even the egg beater) may be heavenly gifts from a sympathetic large-bicepped ancestor, but the recipes (and the tastes) are remarkably similar. The first cookbook published in America, Amelia Simmons’ 1796 American Cookery, offers recipes for pies, puddings, cakes, tarts, custards, cookies, and biscuits. Sound familiar? The most peculiar dessert recipe is for syllabub (a relative of our holiday eggnog). But it’s the directions that are strange, not the ingredients.

Is it fair to assume that a time-traveling dessert could leave early America and end up right at home in our own kitchens? An experiment was in order.

The contenders: Two pound cake recipes (the cow was unavailable on such short notice).

From the 19th century: Sarah Josepha Hale, The Good Housekeeper, 1839.

From the 21st century: Pound Cake recipe in Martha Day, The Ultimate Book of Baking, 2005.

The Time Travelers: Diann Benti, Assistant Reference Librarian, and Jess Lepler, Hench Post-Dissertation fellow and assistant professor of History at the University of New Hampshire. One willing to beat batter for an hour, the other trying to embrace modernity with an ill-advised immersion blender.

The Scene: Mark Zanger writes in the American History Cookbook that, “As a technical note, Early American cakes are among the most difficult historical recipes to reproduce today because so many ingredients have changed” (58). Flour held more moisture and had different protein contents than those found in grocery stores today. Eggs tended to be smaller and butter often had more salt (58-9). The 1839 recipe calls for loaf sugar and suggests using rose water, both unavailable in the AAS Test Kitchen. (We added a little bit of molasses to the 1839 cake to mimic the increased moisture of loaf sugar.)

In the end, after converting a measure of weight (the pound) to volume (cups), we were left with 4 cups of flour, 2 ¼ cups sugar, and 4 sticks of butter for two loaves in the Hale recipe—just about double the recipe of Day’s one-loaf cake. Using these same ingredients, the assembled cakes would go in the oven together and remain there until they each passed the toothpick test.

Ready to go in the oven, the 19th century cake is on the left.

The 19th century cake batter is on the left.

The Question: The details decided, the real battle between old and new emerged, pitting the arm against the chemical: Hale’s hour of batter beating versus Day’s one teaspoon of baking powder. What would the difference mean in taste and size?

The Taste Testers: The AAS fellows. Known to gnaw on the books if left unsupervised in the evening hours, they were fair game against a pound of butter, a pound of sugar, and a pound of flour.

The Results: A blister and arm cramps at 3am that night. Oh wait. You mean how did the cakes turn out?

Can you tell which cake is which?

The Verdict: The challenge rested on the lengths one would go to create a tasty dessert. Desperate for lighter pound cake, a cook’s only real option in the 1830s was to beat air into it. So was all the labor worth it? Given the inherent biases of the testers (18th and 19th century Americanists, who as academics have been known to like it dense), Sarah Josepha Hale emerged victorious. It was universally agreed by the taste testers that while the 19th century loaf was still dense, its flavor was much richer than its 21th century opponent, and tasted very much like shortbread. Perhaps, as the modern cake mushroomed in its pan, the flavor diffused to meet the enlarged size. Some suggested the Day cake needed a sauce and others detected a chemical taste. If mixed only minimally, Hale’s cake might have had a second career as building material, but after an hour’s beating it was enjoyable and more than welcome on our table.

The Take Away: If you’re looking to recreate an 1839 dessert at your next get-together, please note that one tester characterized it as “strange,” “mealy,” and “good” all in the same sentence. Zanger tells us that as technology (e.g. iceboxes) expanded the realm of possibility in home cooking the pound cake decreased in popularity. But, pound cake remained a dessert staple in “pioneering zones and isolated areas such as Appalachia well into the twentieth century, the recipe is easy to remember and the cake works without refrigerators, yeast, or baking powder” (62).

In closing, we’ll give the last word to Mrs. Hale,

Never spread butter on cake; it is a sin against that economy and propriety which domestic rules should always exhibit; and besides, it renders the cake too rich for the stomach. The kinds of cake most apt to prove injurious are pound cake and rich plum cake. (84-5)

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Tags: dessert, fellows, sarah josepha hale

Apply for an AAS research fellowship and learn a trade!

October 6th, 2009, by Mr. Sidetable

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Since the early 1970s, the American Antiquarian Society has been awarding fellowships to enable scholars to come to Worcester and spend anywhere from a month to a year in residence at the Society, immersing themselves in our collections. Many fellows over the years have raved about the richness of the research experience, which is borne out in the use of AAS materials in countless dissertations, articles, and books.

However, an AAS fellowship can also serve as a valuable exercise in professionalization, exposing young scholars to people from other institutions and disciplines and preparing them for the rigors of the academic job search. But given the current depressed state of the economy, the job market in most humanities fields is tighter than ever before. How is AAS responding to this crisis in academic hiring? Why, by reconfiguring its fellowship programs to include valuable vocational training. For example, in the footage below, current AAS-NEH long-term fellow Emily Pawley can be seen preparing herself for an agricultural career.

While this idea may need some additional fine-tuning, we hope that you will consider applying for a fellowship at the American Antiquarian Society. More information and application materials are available here.

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Tags: fellows, videos

Fellow finds horse’s head

October 2nd, 2009, by AAS Contributor

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horse head One of our great joys working on the far side of the reference desk is when a reader comes up to the desk with the words we all love to hear: “Look what I found!” We always know we are in for a surprise and now we can share these treats with you. (Be sure to read this one through to its hilarious conclusion …)

Background: The American Antiquarian Society began as an institution created to “encourage the collection and preservation of the Antiquities of our country.” “Antiquities” didn’t just mean books and paper, it also meant artifacts. The collecting focus of the library was revised by the early 20^th century and the large, disjointed museum collection was donated to appropriate institutions. Here we have a reminder of just the sort of thing a 19^th century researcher might have encountered in the old Antiquarian Hall.

Item: An 1817 letter from the first superintendent of the United States Patent Office, William Thornton, to American Antiquarian Society member, Benjamin Russell, editor of the Columbia Centinel.

Found by: Peterson Fellow James Snead, Associate Professor of Sociology and Anthropology, George Mason University.

Location: American Antiquarian Society Records, Correspondence 1812-1819, Box 2.

(more…)

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Tags: discoveries, fellows, oddities

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

Music Makes its Mark, and a Market

March 5th, 2010, by Ursula Crosslin

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