The Acquisitions Table: A Sermon on the Trinity

Phillips, John. A sermon on the Trinity. [New York]: Sold by Mr. Mitchel, book-binder, Maiden Lane, New-York; Mr. Pike, store-keeper, John Street; and Mrs. Mary Davis, store-keeper, New-Brunswick, [1794]

Third known copy of an unusual American imprint, as yet unreported to the North American Imprints Project (NAIP) or the English Short Title Catalogue (ESTC). John Phillips led a boys’ school at the Chocolate House Academy in Blackheath, London, from 1790 to 1792. This sermon was possibly first printed in England—some aspects of the typography suggest that this edition is a reprint—though no copy of an English edition has survived. What distinguishes this American edition is the imprint shared among three publishers at the outermost reaches of the American book trade: Edward Mitchell, a bookbinder and stationer who published a few other tracts in the mid-1790s; a Mr. Pike, a “store-keeper” of whom little else is known; and Mary Davis of New Brunswick, NJ, who published nothing else but who did place an advertisement for this work in Arnett’s New-Jersey Federalist for October 9, 1794, enabling us to date this edition.

Purchased from E. M. Lawson & Co. Henry F. DePuy Fund.

Raise a Glass to the 4th

In honor of Independence Day, I thought I’d take a look into AAS’s manuscript collection to see how folks observed the holiday in the past.  Sure, it’s all about barbeques and fireworks now, but closer to our independence the holiday probably meant something different to those who lived through the Revolution.

Elnathan Scofield (1773 – 1841) was a patriot through and through.  He served in a multitude of government roles, from Postmaster of Lancaster, Ohio, to a Captain in the Ohio militia.  He even served terms in both branches of the Ohio legislature.  Included in his collection of papers here at AAS is a list of 18 toasts for the 4th.  Whether he actually recited these toasts at a dinner (or BBQ!) we can’t say.  But it’s interesting to see the thoughts stirred up on this holiday, and how appropriate and applicable they still are today.  Below are some of my favorites – feel free to use them during your celebrations today!

The 4th of July, may its blessing be perpetuated to the latest posterity.

The President of the U states May the good of his country ever be his Aim

The Union of the states, cemented by the blood of our fathers, may it be perpetual

The Militia of the U States, in peace the industrious citizen, in War an embattled host

The heroes who have bled and died, for their countrys liberty, may fame stamp immortality on their names

So whatever your opinions and politics, I think we can all agree to honor our nation on this most patriotic of patriotic holidays, and raise a glass to our nation, to its history, and to its future.  Happy 4th everyone!

On the Poetry of Phillis Wheatley

With the publication of Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral (London, 1773) [AAS online catalog record], Phillis Wheatley became the first published African American poet. Because of her status as a house slave in Boston, Massachusetts, she achieved high literary recognition in the years following publication. Prominent political figures like George Washington and Thomas Jefferson were even aware of her poetry in the succeeding decades. But what made Wheatley’s poetry particularly intriguing was the passion she exhibited for memorializing the dead. Perhaps this passion grew from her conversion to Christianity as a young slave learning to read from the Bible.

This lithograph was not made until about 1834, about 50 years after Wheatley’s death.

One example of Wheatley’s passion for memorializing the dead included the poem On the Death of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, 1770.  Since Whitefield was one of the primary preachers in the First Great Awakening, a time of heightened religious fervor during the 1730s and 1740s, Wheatley praised him as a “prophet.”  She wrote:

Behold the prophet in his tow’ring flight!

He leaves the earth for heav’n’s unmeasur’d height,

And worlds unknown receive him from our sight.

With rhythmic lines such as these, it became clear that Wheatley possessed a special talent for poetic eulogy. Whitefield’s central message encouraged a self-driven religious experience, without regard to race, class, or gender, and Wheatley personally embraced it as such. In short, she understood Whitefield and the First Great Awakening as a kind of liberating theology which helped guide Christianized African-American slaves in their search for spiritual salvation.

AAS holds two Wheatley poems in the manuscript collections [AAS online record].  “To the University of Cambridge” is shown here (click on the image to enlarge), along with the attribution on the back.

Although Wheatley died in 1784, many of her poems continued to be edited, revised, and updated over the next fifty years. In fact, AAS’s collection of editions of Wheatley’s writing covers the 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries. AAS specializes in preserving materials prior to 1876 and Wheatley’s writings certainly constitute an important part of the Society’s African-American resources.

The Civil War Comes to California

As was mentioned in a post last week, Americans will be marking the 150th anniversaries of the great events of the Civil War over the next four years.  Many of the battles, commanders and regiments of that conflict have become legends, and the narrative of a nation split apart, brother fighting against brother, remains compelling.  However, because these events loom so large in our national memory, it is easy to forget that beyond the legends the life of the nation went on.

View of San Francisco, California, ca. 1855. Whole plate daguerreotype. (click to enlarge) The Society owns a set of three whole plates depicting early San Francisco including this view of the harbor, a view of the hills with Tehama Market and a view of a residential area of the city.

California, for example, experienced the war in a different way from most of the Unites States.  Still a frontier state in 1861, Californians were removed by both time and distance from the conflict raging in the east.  The San Francisco Bulletin, a newspaper of the time, did not print the news of Lincoln’s election until November 14th 1860, one week after the election was held.  During the secession crisis and the early years of the war, news generally took a week or two to reach California from the east coast, because the telegraph did not yet extend across the continent and the remaining distances had to be covered by riders of the pony express.

Despite the distance, Californians were not content to remain on the sidelines of the conflict.  San Francisco and most of northern California were pro union, especially after the Confederate states opened fire on Fort Sumter.  This sentiment is echoed in an article in the Bulletin of May 6, 1861 which advertises a lecture to be given called “The Love of One’s Country.” It suggests that a true patriot cannot sit idly by while the seceding states tear “limb after limb” from the “bleeding body” of the nation.

Also like many others across the nation, the opinion makers of California did not foresee the terrible war that was to come.  On the same day news of Lincoln’s election reached San Francisco, an editorial in the Bulletin predicted the secession crisis would blow over.  Even once it became clear that it would not, the editor was not concerned because in his opinion “the cotton states were powerless.”

Despite the union sentiment in the north of the state, California did not send its volunteer regiments east to fight in the well-known campaigns that define our image of the war.  Instead, it had its own secession crisis to deal with.  In southern California, many settlers from the southern states and Spanish speakers who resented US control, which was less than two decades old, sought to form a new state and either join the Confederacy or declare outright independence.  California troops took up the duties of regular army troops who went east to fight and kept the “secession element,” as the Bulletin labeled it, at bay, while also guarding the western forts, which the regular troops had vacated, against Native American attacks.  Furthermore, California’s volunteers were instrumental in defeating a confederate invasion of modern New Mexico and Arizona when, on May 20th 1862, they forced Southern troops to evacuate the town, causing the Bulletin to gleefully declare: “Tucson Occupied by the Federals!” California, though it is now largely forgotten, fought its own small war within the war.

The Acquisitions Table: The New Pretty Village

The New Pretty Village. Church Set. New York: McLoughlin Bros., 1897.

The McLoughlin Brothers dominated both the picture book and game markets in late 19th-century America, and The New Pretty Village is a wonderful example of McLoughlin’s halcyon era. This segment of the ideal suburban village includes cardboard models of a church, a stately house, a cozy cottage, and a florist’s greenhouse, along with trees, bushes, and villagers that can be posed on metal perches. The chromolithographed box shows the church set in its visual context with other village segments. It is truly rare to get a McLoughlin game in such great condition, and the AAS curator of graphic arts, Lauren Hewes, and I are inspired to collect the entire village, as acquisition funds permit!

Purchased from Helen Younger. Linda & Julian Lapides and Harry G. Stoddard Memorial Funds.

Further information:

  • You may be able to find the original price for The New Pretty Village in the McLoughlin Bros. catalogs, price lists, and order sheets in AAS collections — all are available online now as PDFs.
  • Find other interesting games listed in the AAS Games Inventory.

Past is Present and Other Blogs

Here is a roundup of a few blogs that have recently mentioned Past is Present.

One of our recent posts — “City Living” was referenced a couple of times. Two Nerdy History Girls had a post “Big Bad City Tempts Young Men, 1849” in which Susan provides a wonderful set-up to introduce our earlier post:

“Just as the country has traditionally represented a pure and wholesome life, cities everywhere are most often depicted harboring sin and wickedness on every street corner. As the focus of the 19th c. American economy shifted away from farms to factories, young men became increasingly eager to leave rural homes for the proverbial bright lights of the big city. Cautionary tracts were quick to appear, doubtless far more popular with worried parents than ambitious youth.”

Make sure to go to her post on Two Nerdy History Girls to see the illustration showing just how tempting cities could be!

The same Past is Present post on “City Living” was also described as “Best Post about Life in the City (this year)” by Nicole on her Worcester blog, an accolade we greatly appreciate.

And just this weekend, the blog Jane Austen in Vermont had a lovely post “Museum Musings – The American Antiquarian Society” which aptly describes the serendipity of online historical research.  After kindly complementing AAS’s online exhibits (you can find them all here), Deb goes on to reveal her favorite find:

“But here is my favorite find: note very closely this image of the title page of The Ladies Library and the owner’s signature Jane Mecom

“An interesting aside: Jane Mecom was Benjamin Franklin’s sister – the unsung sister of a very famous brother [think Alice James, Dorothy Wordsworth, etc…] – you can read about her in this very recent article (April 24, 2011) in the NYTimes by Jill Lepore http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/24/opinion/24lepore.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=jane%20mecom&st=Search

“Serendipitous, don’t you think that I read this article a few weeks ago and then find this title page image on the AAS site with her name in the book!”

As Deb aptly points out, you never know what you’re going to find while poking around online. It could be interesting material from the present or from the past. So here are our recommendations for three enjoyable blogs with which to start your online fun today: Two Nerdy History Girls, Worcester, and Jane Austen in Vermont. Hope you enjoy them as much as we have!

Celebrating 100 Years, 100 Years Ago

As AAS gears up for the most momentous occasion of its bicentennial in 2012, I thought it would be fitting to take a look back in the AAS archives to see how we celebrated the first 100 years.  In 1912, the Society had just moved into its new (and now current) home at 185 Salisbury Street, Waldo Lincoln was serving as president of the Society, Clarence Brigham as librarian, President Taft gave a speech at the celebratory dinner, and the Red Sox won the World Series.  The library acquired 2624 bound volumes, 3455 pamphlets, 1864 unbound early newspapers, and 824 maps, broadsides and manuscripts.  I wonder what 2012 has in store!

Worcester Magazine recounted the events of the 1912 centennial in its November issue of that year as quite the event:

…the one hundredth anniversary of the American Antiquarian Society, observed on October 16 with exercises and ceremonies as impressive and dignified as befitted an occasion so important in the field of historical research work.

The festivities were apparently so extensive, “a volume, almost, might be written by way of introduction to the anniversary exercises.”  Festivities began with an opening reception in Antiquarian Hall, to which some thousand Worcester residents were invited.  Next was the annual meeting, with an address by Charles G. Washburn, which was followed by formal anniversary exercises at the First Unitarian Church.  Finally, President Taft made an appearance as guest of honor at the concluding anniversary dinner.  Other distinguished guests included Ambassador of Great Britain James Bryce, Minister from Peru Alfonso Pezet, and Senator Henry Cabot Lodge.

In his address during the centennial celebrations, President Lincoln described the strength and vigor of the Society as it reached its 100th year.  I think he would be proud to see how the Society has continued to grow, and age with grace, 100 years later.

The completion of one hundred years of existence by a learned society is no indication of approaching senility, but rather is like the coming of age of a young man about the enter with the vigor of manhood on the duties of life, and congratulations on the strength which has enabled a society to complete five score years are unmarred by any fear lest that strength may be but labor and sorrow.

This Week in the Civil War, Illustrated: “Cash or curses” as payment for foraged food

There has been much interest in the Civil War of late.  The increased coverage makes sense given that next few years mark 150 years since the conflict that divided our United States.  Here at Past is Present, we would like to highlight another side of the war years.  Rather than focusing on the battles or military or diplomatic events, we wondered: what were the average citizens seeing in their papers every week during the war?

Here is one example from this week during the Civil War.

Hunger is a universal human experience, and this article in the New-York Illustrated News on June 21, 1862, used hunger to connect their readers to the Union soldiers fighting far afield:

“Hard biscuit and salt-beef are nourishing, no doubt, but incontestably, they are not delicate, and when one has dined, and supped, and breakfasted and lunched, and munched between meals on these two delightful articles of provender for weeks and months, a slight variation in the food, and a few toothsome additions to the bill of fare are by no means to be despised.  The human mind is so constituted as to dislike monotony; and the human stomach is in such close sympathy with the human mind aforesaid, that it not only dislikes monotony, but wont [sic] have it at any price.

Hence: Foraging.”

But was this behavior sanctioned by the Union army, or undertaken surreptitiously by soldiers whose taste buds and stomachs drove them to steal?  According to the paper:

“The kind of foraging parties represented in our pictures are the regular orthodox thing, authorized by officers, and generally under command of a commissioned officer.  They use a large discretion about paying for what they take, and as the owner of the property is a Unionist or a Rebel so does he get, or is supposed to get, cash or curses.”

However they acquired the food, a forager like “Jack Tar on a Spree,” as depicted in this illustration by the newspaper’s “special artist,” looks quite satisfied with himself and his catch.

Click on the newspaper article below to read more.  (Sorry about the wrinkle disrupting the text, but think of it this way: you can tell you’re reading from a real 3D newspaper, right?  And you didn’t even need to put on those silly glasses.)
image of forager

The Acquisitions Table: No Rose Without a Thorn

No rose without a thorn. New York: Nathaniel Currier, [1838-1856] Shown with “My Master’s Wife”

When he started his business on Nassau Street in New York City, Nathaniel Currier offered for sale lithographs of news events, historic images, local views, and pretty women. He also occasionally produced narrative genre scenes such as this curious depiction of a young man kissing a lady’s hand through a hole in a wooden door. The unfortunate youth is about to be whipped for his freshness by an older, angry man approaching from behind.

Although AAS tends to purchase prints related to historical events or to the history of printing, this image was too good to pass up, given its visual relationship to another item already here. Our current NEH-funded project, “Prints in the Parlor,” involves cataloging images from the AAS collection of annuals and gift books. (Read an earlier blog post introducing the project here.)  In the Forget-me-Not for 1850 (New York: E. O. Jenkins, 1849), we encountered the illustration “My Master’s Wife,” engraved by William G. Jackman, who did quite a bit of work for the annuals industry from his base in New York City. The Jenkins printing works was located at 114 Nassau Street, just four blocks away from Currier’s shop at 152 Nassau Street. We will never know who was copying whom, but it is wonderful to have both images together in the collection for future scholars to debate.

Purchased from the Old Print Shop, New York. Print Acquisitions Fund.

The Acquisitions Table: The First German-American Cookbook

David Whitesell, curator of books, reports on a recent acquisition:

Die Wahre Brandtewein-Brennerey, oder Brandtewein- Gin- und Cordialmacher-Kunst:  wie auch die a?chte Fa?rbe-Kunst, Blau, Roth, Gelb und Gru?n zu fa?rben, auf Baumwalle, Leinen, und Wolle … [Reading, PA?: Gottlob Jungmann and Carl Andreas Bruckmann?], 1802.

Very rare third of four recorded editions of what might be termed the first German-American cookbook. This manual for distilling brandy, gin, and cordials was first published by Salomon Mayer in York, PA in 1797, together with another Mayer pamphlet on the dyeing of silk, linen, and wool. Mayer reprinted these works in a combined edition in 1802, the same year that this piracy was issued. On the basis of typographical evidence, this edition has been ascribed to the Reading, PA press of Jungmann and Bruckmann. A final edition appeared in 1809. Each edition is known in only a handful of copies, and none are listed in any bibliography of American cookery books. This copy is in its original decorative wrappers, block-printed in green in a floral pattern.  Purchased from Steve Finer. Harry G. Stoddard Memorial Fund.

Here is a time line of the various editions:

1st ed., 1797 [AAS online catalog record]

2nd ed., 1802 [AAS online catalog record]

3rd ed. (pirated), 1802 [AAS online catalog record]

4th ed., 1809:  Not at AAS, yet.  We have an AAS online catalog record ready and waiting, though, so if you find a copy of this edition (the imprint reads “Gedruckt im Jahr, 1809”), perhaps you can help us complete the set!

The Diary of Patty Rogers

With wedding season upon us, and love and relationships at the forefront of many minds this time of the year, it’s fun to wonder what courting, love, and relationships were like, and how they’ve evolved over the past couple hundred years.  We all have ideas in our minds,  probably placed there through novels and films.  I know my stereotypical view of  love in the 18th and 19th century always looks like a Jane Austen novel, and is either overly formal or overly dramatic.

The diary of Martha “Patty” Rogers, in AAS’s manuscript collection, proves to be an interesting look at love, and life, in the late 18th century.  Patty’s diary is unlike many diaries of the time, with their simple recordings of the weather and the day’s activities.  Patty did not hold back her emotions, and wrote extensively about her daily life, and included all the wonderful details that help make life back then much more relatable to us today.

I’ve transcribed one of my favorite entries from Patty regarding love below.  On Saturday, March 19th, 1785, Patty ran into an ex, “Portius,” whom she appeared to still have feelings for –

I with trembling hand [?] to meet him – he with an eye of pity, gave me an expansive look – A look of soft intelligence which indicated a wish to know how I had been this month – this cruel month, that has passed, since I saw him – my eyes eagerly met his and betrayed the tenderness I felt at seeing him. – I seated myself but turned pale and faint…I could not bear to see him without emotions, whose lovely person once (not to say now) was the whole object of my affection – but be silent he is anothers…He is my friend, and I’ll be content.

Quite beautifully written, the true emotion and pain of encountering an ex, especially one who still has a hold on her heart, comes through in Patty’s writing.  And how familiar is this scenario to us today?  Almost anyone can relate to the feelings Patty is conveying, and this is what really brings Patty into the present, and what helps us see how little has changed over the centuries.

The courtship process may have been different, perhaps more formal, more reserved, but the feelings people had for one another, and the emotions brought upon by relationships – the excitement, the pain, the passion, the joy – all remain the same.  Ah, love is (and always has been) a splendid thing.

If you’re interested in learning more about Martha “Patty” Rogers, there are additional resources at AAS, aside from her diary, that shed light on her life.  Linda Kerber features Patty and her diary in her book, Women of the Republic: Intellect and Ideology in Revolutionary America (link to catalog record.)  Also, it is believed that Patty may have been the model for the character of Dorcasina Sheldon in Tabitha Tenney’s novel Female Quixotism (link to catalog record), written in 1801.  Finally, you can learn more about Patty and her family through the Roger’s Family Papers (link to catalog record.)  This collection features not only Patty’s diary, but the diary of her father, Daniel Rogers, as well as family correspondence.

City Living, or “One Vast Masquerade Entertainment”

It must have been personal interest that drew my eye to this one item on the shelf, “The Temptations of City Life: A Voice to Young Men Seeking a Home and Fortune, in Large Towns and Cities,”  Tracts for the Cities — No. 3 (New York, 1849) [AAS online catalog record].  While I am not a young man seeking a home and fortune, my husband and I are currently debating purchasing a home in the Worcester area.  I am firmly on the side of city living.  He, however, is advocating for a rural retreat.  The conversation goes something like this:

Me: “Look at this one — it’s perfect!”

Him [glancing at the computer screen before quickly turning away]: “There’s no yard.  Your neighbors are going to be looking right in your windows.”

Me: “But we would be able to walk to the grocery store and to work and to the museum.”

Personally, I have come to love the arts and culture available in Worcester.  We have wonderful restaurants and vibrant events like stART on the street.  We have beautiful Elm Park, a world-class art museum, and a similarly world-class historical research library for the study of early America (if I do say so myself).   But enough Worcester boosterism.

These are the factors I find most tempting about city life.  What were considered the urban temptations 150 years ago?

A Night on the Town

Worcester is no New York City (and NYC is always “the city” in these type of tracts), but the author of this pamphlet assures his readers that his description can be more widely applied to other large towns and cities.  While I turn to Worcester Magazine or Worcester Living to make my plans for weekend events in the city, this tract describes a similar start to the evening for a typical young clerk in the city in 1849:

“After his evening meal, he may read the following, or some similar advertisement in the paper: ‘Citizens and strangers wishing to spend an hour comfortably, in a quiet and beautifully-furnished retreat, where the best of liquors, wines, and segars [sic], are offered, and where they can have access to all the papers of the day, besides the English and American pictorials, are respectfully solicited to drop in at No. _, _ street.'”

To find out what a real young clerk did with his city evenings in 1849, you can read our Clerk and the City blog which contains the daily diary entries of a clerk in Philadelphia named Nathan Beekley (you can also follow Nathan, or The Iron Clerk, as he is known on Twitter).  According to the tract “The Temptations of City Life,” this is what a young clerk like Nathan would have found to tempt him on the streets of a city like New York or Philadelphia:

“On almost every corner, some saloon brilliantly lighted, opens its attractive portals. It is furnished on a scale of the richest luxury, with splendid mirrors, costly divans, easy lounges, and tables covered with late journals and pictorial works. Paintings of great artistic merit, arranged on the walls, and exhibiting the nude and seductive forms of female beauty, appeal to the ardent passions of youth; and corresponding music in sweetest strains steals upon his senses. Often, to add to the attractions of these places, varying entertainments, of the buffoon, danseuse, and the ballad-singer, are furnished. Captivated by such scenes, unsuspecting youth repeats his visits, finds other similar resorts, and finally is in the habit of being abroad every night, and is found at his boarding-house only for his meals and late lodgings. He visits all the distinguished saloons, refectories, bowling-alleys, theatres, gambling-hells, and other abodes of affiliated infamy.”

One can almost hear the jolly ballads, smell the wafting aromas, and see the bright light all spilling out onto the city streets as each of these temptations is described in full sensual detail.  Later, the tract goes on to describe the necessary components for a night out on the town.

  • Food for the “besotted epicure”:

“Undue relish for the luxuries of the table is catered to by the productions of all climes served upon the most approved methods of the culinary art, and at all hours of the night and day. “Restaurants,” “cafes,” refectories,” and “oyster-saloons,” in every grade of meanness or respectability and splendor, are found on almost every corner of the streets… At length he becomes a miserable dyspeptic, a besotted epicure, and is devoted to all sensual excesses.”

  • Drink in “porticoes of perdition”:

“Appetite for ardent spirits is appealed to from scores of splendid saloons and low porter-houses. The devote of the cup has no trouble, as in the country, to keep his sideboard supplied with the choicest liquors. They are sold in a hundred places within as many rods, and he can, by turning a comer, or walking a few blocks, replenish his stores or obtain a single glass. These places, made attractive by fine paintings, music, and diversified entertainments of wit, and song, and dance, have introduced so many upon the broad road to ruin, that they are recognised as the porticoes of perdition.”

  • Entertainments for “another class of passions”:

“Hundreds of abodes of infamy are opened throughout the city, appealing to another class of passions; their hired emissaries are abroad in the city and country, to decoy the unwary and the friendless. Directories and cards are secretly distributed in offices, places of business, and to strangers as they reach the city. Placards along the streets, and advertisements in the journals, assure the passionate and adventurous youth that crime and villany may be pursued at reduced hazards. And fascinating but fallen women wait at the corners of the streets, and with honeyed words make the overtures of damning sin.”

All the earlier places of vice lead up to the last one, that number-one worry of the tract’s author and nineteenth-century mothers everywhere: the brothel.  It represented the ultimate extension of what was perceived of as the primary danger of the city, and its sharpest contrast from rural life: the anonymity its streets offered. Anonymity could allow one to slip into sin among “the dark mazes and perilous labyrinths of a modern Sodom.”  The city tract describes the unique character of a city thus:

“In its disguised activity, gayety, and unrestrained license, a city is one vast masquerade entertainment. Through its spacious avenues, gardens, and parks — its splendid saloons and halls of amusement — thronging multitudes pass and repass, unknowing and unknown, like those in the gay dance; and often the attitudes, airs, and looks assumed, exhibit a degree of wantonness, or want of circumspection, that are preliminary to, and abet every course of vice.”

Yet, if you leave out the wantonness and vice, does this description really sound that bad?  Or, to put it another way, does it sound likely to dissuade a young man?  While this tract is ostensibly directed at encouraging young men in particular not to leave the safe influences of their families and rural homes, the evocative language must have produced the opposite effect on at least some of his original audience.

Arguments like those presented in this city tract certainly didn’t deter the real life clerk, Nathan Beekley, mentioned above.  His diary in AAS’s collections [AAS online catalog record] describes his first year living in Philadelphia.  It shows he sampled a wide variety of entertainments on offer, but also the same names of companions consistently appear.  This seems to indicate that, in actual experience, the anonymity of the city was less absolute than the city tract would lead us to believe.  (Of course, Beekley was in Philadelphia, a city whose population in 1850 (121,000) was closer to the population of Worcester in 2010 (183,000) than it was to New York in 1850 (696,000), according to the federal census records.)

The question of whether the cultural attractions and convenience of living in a crowded city outweighed its dangers and hassles appears to be a perennial one, although the changing cultural perceptions of what those crowds mean is historically interesting.  As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, my husband’s main complaint about the city today is that you’re so close to your neighbors that people will be looking in on you.  Ironically, when “The Temptations of City Life” was written in 1849, the population density of the city was seen as a problem for the exact opposite reason: the anonymity of the crowded streets and the separation from your family of birth was understood to mean that people would not be “looking in on you” to keep you honest and virtuous. The same fact, population density, was deployed to represent opposite ideas (although both were presented as arguments against city living).

On the positive side, if the city is “one vast masquerade entertainment,” it means you’ll never get bored. The 1849 city tract declares, “Entrance upon city life is not merely one great change, but an introduction to a perpetual succession of changes.”  Perhaps this is true not only for individuals coming to the city, but also for our cities themselves.

And isn’t the ever-present possibility of change and renewal a great argument for city living?  At least I’ll try to convince my husband it is.

Lee Pardon Aldrich and the Trial of Daniel Sickles

In February of 1859, a scandalous event shook Washington D.C., involving two prominent politicians, betrayal and murder most foul.  How intriguing!

Hon. Daniel E. Sickles, Congressman from New York, shot and killed Philip Barton Key, U.S. District Attorney (and also, interestingly enough, son of famed composer Francis Scott Key), after discovering an affair between Key and his wife.  The murder took place in the middle of the afternoon on Pennsylvania Avenue, in clear view of the White House.  Sickles was tried for murder and was found not guilty.  Sickles’ trial was the first to successfully use the plea of temporary insanity.  Who could convict a man with a broken heart?  Apparently not a jury in 1859.

That same year, a carpenter and builder from Worcester, Massachusetts, was briefly transplanted to Washington D.C., and devoted himself to keeping a daily journal of his experience in the city.  Lee Pardon Aldrich did just that, recording daily the weather, his health, and the goings on of Washington D.C. religiously from January 1st, 1859 through June 7th, 1859.  His diary [link to online record] can be found in AAS’s manuscript collection.

While looking through Aldrich’s diary, his entry for February 28th, 1859, caught my eye-

Monday has been quite a great day for Washington the shooting affair last evening was the most wicked a thing that was now done in Washington for some time.  Mr. Key was shot near the Pres. House by a member of the House of Representatives from the State of New York.

My interest piqued, I looked into this shooting affair and found all the details in Felix G. Fontaine’s report, The Trial of Hon. Daniel E. Sickles, for the Murder of Philip Barton Key, for the Seduction of His Wife, Sunday, Feb. 27th, 1859 [link to online record].  This record of the murder and ensuing trial, published the same year as the trial itself, tells us Sickles was found not guilty thanks to the “…defenses of justification of homicide in consequence of provocation, and of insanity.”

While Aldrich’s entries are short and not elaborate, as was the style of many diaries and journals of the day, it is interesting to trace the trial through his entries.  We can see how the public was reacting to the trial through his entry of March 7th, 1859:

I have heard about the court met this morning but adjourned until tomorrow at 10 oclock then Mr. Sickles will be tried for shooting Mr. Key on Sunday of last at corner of Pa and 16th Street about two and half oclock it has made a great  talk in all kinds of society in Washington.

Apparently the trial was the talk of the town.  Aldrich also fills us in on what people were saying in his entry from April 9th, 1859:

Great excitement at the City Hall the case of Mr. Sickles takes up all of every mans time of talking this thing and that thing some think he deserves to be hung for his murder.

Well, Mr. Sickles was not hung, nor found guilty, as Aldrich reports on April 26th, 1859:

Mr. Sickles was discharged this afternoon of not guilty the noises in the court was great when the jury said to the court he was not guilty.

Whether these were noises of pleasure or displeasure, I suppose we’ll never know.  Although, according to Fontaine’s report, after being declared not guilty, Sickles was released from custody “amid the cheers of the audience…”  But what is the reliability and possible bias of this resource?  Again, we may never know.  Even though Aldrich’s diary can’t be considered cold hard facts necessarily, it gives us an interesting take on an historic event seen from an ordinary person’s perspective.

I’ll leave you with my favorite entry, from April 10th, 1859, which sheds light on what I like to interpret as Aldrich’s sarcastic sense of humor.  It is the sense of a person we can discover through diaries, along with a loose interpretation of history, which makes diaries such fun resources!

I have not been out this day any to speak about I think it best to keep at home then I shall be safe and not get shot before I know it.

A History of Books

Purely physical love for a book can sometimes be a book’s worst enemy.  By fingering the books, prints, manuscripts, and newspapers in AAS collections, each reader and researcher contributes to the slow death of our materials.  In his novel In the Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco writes that the saliva and dust left behind by such readers cause pages to lose their “vigor.”  He writes:

“As an excess of sweetness makes the warrior flaccid and inept, this excess of possessive and curious love would make the book vulnerable to the disease destined to kill it.”

Click on the image above to read what William Dean Howells wrote to Mrs. Earle in his “Literary Friends and Acquaintance”

Thankfully, not every reader can lay claim to having owned and left a truly personal mark on an AAS book.

Charles L. Nichols, a Worcester physician and president of AAS from 1917 until his death in 1929, sought to document just one kind of personal mark on AAS books: the autograph.  During the year following a 1922 report to the council on some of the great “association libraries” at AAS, including those of Isaiah Thomas, the Mathers, and Alice Morse Earle, Nichols documented the vast number of inscriptions in AAS association copies.  His research resulted in a 1,500 card catalog file listing 598 names in pre-1800 AAS books.  With the help of Tom Knoles, the Marcus A. McCorison Librarian, I was able to locate this file and compare the cards with Nichols’s notes for the project.

While most of the association copies remaining in AAS collections have been cataloged in the AAS online catalog, Nichols’s notes and writings still have relevance for the researcher studying association copies at AAS. Nichols’s notes are housed in AAS manuscripts [catalog record], and reveal the mind of a book-lover trying to make sense of early libraries and their owners, with lists of “curiosities,” “books of interest for a paper on AAS library + its autographs,” and “Mather library in AAS.” In the 1924 AAS Proceedings, Nichols states:

“These autographs and inscriptions reveal friendships, verify dates and localities, and bring to mind many interesting details of the lives and interests of the owners.”

Most especially significant, Nichols says, the Mather Family Library inscriptions reveal the “passage of…books from father to son through several generations.”

Through democratizing digital initiatives such as Readex’s Archive of Americana, EBSCO’s AAS Historical Periodicals Collection, and Gale’s Sabin Americana, AAS has made treasures from its archives readily available to students and scholars alike—while protecting and preserving the original documents.  But personal interactions with AAS books remain possible for those who visit the AAS reading room, with clean hands and a pencil, of course.

Further Information:

The webpage for The Jay Fliegelman Library of Association Copies at Stanford University is still under construction.  Fliegelman, past AAS Mellon Distinguished Scholar in Residence, was working on a history of association copies before his untimely death in 2007.