Ian Saxine, Bridgewater State University, W.B.H. Dowse Short-Term Research Fellow at the MHS

Three years into a costly and unsuccessful war with the Wabanaki Confederacy on their “Eastern Frontier,” in 1725 Massachusetts leaders sent a commission to speak to their Indigenous foes and enquire “what was the Occasion of the war which the English…hardly knew.”[1] Most readers would find it hard to believe this ignorance over the causes of a conflict sparked by Bay Colony leaders’ consistent misreading of Indian treaties was genuine. So did I, when I started research on what will be the first book length treatment of a sprawling regional war between Massachusetts and the Wabanaki Confederacy during the 1720s that threatened to draw in numerous other unwilling colonies and tribes. The conflict went by many names (Dummer’s War, after the acting Massachusetts governor, is the most common), none suitable or often remembered. Marked less by battlefield drama than by small-scale ambushes and endless, fumbling negotiations, the conflict stands out to me for what it reveals about the invisible constraints on imperial ambitions in the early modern world. Most New England colonies agreed with Wabanaki critiques of Massachusetts’ unreasonable conduct towards them, and so refused to aid their beleaguered neighbor.

The details of one of the Bay Colony’s ensuing fact-finding missions survives in the MHS collections in a slender, unassuming booklet written by Captain John Penhallow, a militia officer posted on the Maine coast in the summer of 1725. Likely intended for his superiors, Penhallow’s “Journal in the three years War” detailed a month of diplomatic sausage-making. Unlike the better known records of formal treaties that punctuate colonial history, Penhallow’s account is stripped of ceremony. Instead, readers will encounter fumbling efforts to communicate in French, English, and Abenaki, a rare mention of Wabanaki writing symbols (“a few lines in Indian…[colonial translators] Could not interpret” and a detailed description of Indigenous property boundaries, also a rare find in any eighteenth-century collection.

This item, catalogued as the John Penhallow Diary, is an unpolished manuscript, and was perhaps intended as the draft of a more formal report. In that respect the piece represents a way in which MHS collections from this period tend to shine—as an excellent repository of the private writings of public figures, whose official correspondence can be found down the road at the State Archives. John was the son of Samuel Penhallow, a superior court judge and prominent figure in colonial politics who wrote a book about the wars on the Maine frontier in 1726, and this item probably remained in Penhallow family collections before ending up at MHS.[2] (Similar, although much less illuminating reports of less well-connected militia officers can be found in abundance in the State Archives.)

Its unassuming appearance and lack of any headings give no indication that this document contains rare insights into Wabanaki politics and culture. Penhallow recorded candid Wabanaki statements about their land use practices, boundaries between groups, and internal political divides that seldom make it into official accounts of treaties published by Massachusetts.

This manuscript is one of the most powerful examples in my own experience of important findings coming from unexpected places. Penhallow’s account is probably mentioning a form of hieroglyphs used by the Wabanakis’ Mi’kmaq relatives. That, and its equally rare description of Indigenous property boundaries, makes it an invaluable resource for ethnohistorians interested in either of these understudied phenomena.

[1]  All quotations from 15 July, 1725  John Penhallow Diary, n.p.

[2] Samuel Penhallow, History of the Wars of New-England. Boston, 1726. 1796 Lib. 31.21

By Judith Maas, Library Assistant

December 22, 1873

This morning we took the early train at Alexandria that we might get to a fine view of the Pyramids by daylight. We are to see them before reaching Cairo. The way is charming. Palm trees, camels, laborers in flowing robes, buffaloes ploughing and sometimes yoked with a camel; and all cultivated ground [1].

So begins Sarah Freeman Clarke’s account of an Egyptian journey, during which she traveled by foot, train, boat, and donkey and explored pyramids, bazaars, tombs, and temples. Her sensitivity throughout the diary to color, light, and form and her receptiveness toward all she encountered reflect her vocation as an artist. Whenever she had the opportunity on the trip, she sketched people and landscapes. If lack of time prevented her from making a drawing, she would describe in her diary an image that she wished she could have captured in her sketchbook. The journal, entitled “Notes of a Nile Voyage,” is now part of the Perry-Clarke collection at the MHS.

At about 2 o’clock V. shouted “Pyramid” and we all looked…and as it seemed on the edge of the horizon were two faint spectral images, which would have been taken for mountains but for their symmetrical form. This is the most imposing view that one gets of these structures….when you are quite close they lose all their dignity and become ugly masses of broken and ill put together stonework [2].

Amidst many family responsibilities, Clarke (1808-1896) led an adventurous life, filled with learning and eclectic accomplishment. Born in Dorchester, she came of age during the intellectual and artistic ferment of antebellum Boston. Her first teacher was her paternal step-grandfather, Dr. James Freeman (1759-1835), minister of King’s Chapel in Boston. Under his guidance, Sarah and her brothers studied mathematics and ancient languages and literature. As her brother James recalled in his autobiography, Dr. Freeman’s aim as a teacher was to elicit his pupils’ interest in a subject rather than to pursue “mental discipline”[1] as an end in itself; study became a form of exploration for the children rather than a chore.

Now it is four o’clock, and when the lights are becoming most beautiful on these venerable objects, we must go for the days are short…. as we looked back to the pyramids they lost their… sordid aspect which they wear when you are too near to them and grow fairer and fairer at every step of distance gained [7].

Upon the death of her father in 1830, Clarke and her mother made ends meet by opening a boardinghouse in Boston. As her brothers left the city to pursue new ventures, Clarke began to extend her interests, taking advantage of city life. She gave art lessons to boardinghouse guests, attended lyceum lectures, and engaged in local philanthropic activities. The boardinghouse itself served as a makeshift school for Clarke, as it grew into a gathering place for budding educators, philosophers, and reformers. Among the visitors were her brother James, now a Harvard divinity student, and his friend and confidante Margaret Fuller, with whom he shared a devotion to German romantic literature.

During the 1830s and 1840s, Clarke became a student of the Romantic artist Washington Allston and formed friendships with Fuller, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and the Peabody sisters. Emerson described her as “a true & high-minded person,” but noted that she “has her full proportion of our native frost.”[2] Her reserve, perhaps, was a hidden strength, allowing her to listen and learn as much as she could from these friends and teachers. Emerson’s precept, to “satisfy the wants of your own soul…[despite] the prejudices of society,”[3] she said, had helped inspire her to pursue her art. “His discourses,” to her, were like “diamonds.”[4]

After lunch drove to the tombs of the Caliphs….The first we entered was an old mosque attached to a Sultan’s tomb. It was a lovely place, open to the sky, with white doves flying about the minarets, which rose, carved and beautiful, above the … upper edges of the walls of the inner court…. Another day when we return to Cairo I must come and paint a bit of the mosque and sky….The other tombs scattered around were beautiful. One had … a good view of the desert and the numerous domes, some in light and some in shadow made a charming picture with their pearly tints [21].

Clarke is worth getting to know not only for the distinguished company she kept, but as someone who found her own distinct path: as a landscape artist who exhibited her paintings at the Boston Athenaeum and whose drawings illustrated Fuller’s first book, Summer on the Lakes; as a participant in Fuller’s “Conversations” for women; as a teacher at Bronson Alcott’s Temple School; as a student of Dante, contributing a poem on the poet to first issue of the Dial and two studies to the Century magazine; and as founder of the Marietta, Georgia, town library.

We crossed the river in our small boat and took the donkeys on the other side … The sunlight coming from behind the … leaves and piercing them with its arrows and the play of color as well as light in this novel combination bewitched me, and I hoped to return and get a sketch of it at the same hour on another day [41].

Clarke was a veteran traveler by the time she made her Egyptian excursion, her interest sparked perhaps by the example of Allston, who had studied art in London, Paris, and Rome, following his graduation from Harvard in 1800. In 1843, after inheriting family money, Clarke, her brother James, and Fuller embarked on a western tour that covered Niagara Falls and the Great Lakes Region. The journey brought the travelers up close to places, people, and ways of life far removed from their everyday lives in Boston: native American encampments, wide open prairie, remote settlers’ cabins. As she would on all her later excursions, Clarke recorded her impressions in her sketchbook, much to Fuller’s delight. In a letter dated September 1843, Fuller wrote: “Sarah Clarke has made many sketches from the magnificent and lovely scenes we have visited. She has, in this way, quite a good journal of our summer.”[5]

Every part of this…temple, inside walls and outside, all over the pillars, pilasters,…and in every possible spot are sculptures. They are the history of the time—its newspapers, its records, its libraries, and its schools, for no doubt teachers brought here their pupils to be instructed in history [50].

In 1844, Clarke made the first of several trips to Italy, where she absorbed the landscape and art and drew outdoors. By the mid-nineteenth century, Italy was becoming a destination of choice for artists; Allston had described Rome as “the great University of Art.”[6] In the late 1860s, after inheriting most of her mother’s estate, she toured northern Italy to sketch the towns and landscapes that Dante would have known.

The ride through this valley is most impressive….It is a valley of stones. Walls of stones hem you in, your road is a bed of stones where once the Nile may or must have flowed….The glare of the sun on all this rock is most unpleasant, but the blue of the sky above, the yellow, red, and black rocks, every line melted by the … sunshine, the flowing outlines which show where the force of the water pressed and molded and rounded the rocks into the masses which we see, all bring before you the mighty force of a great river. It was impossible to stop to sketch in that glare but I would if I could so much was I impressed with the spirit of the place [68].

The Egyptian voyage would be Clarke’s last great expedition. In words and pictures, she had made many worlds her own. In later years, she settled in Marietta, Georgia, to be closer to family. Here she discovered yet another role for herself, that of making her books available to neighbors and family. Her collection became the basis for Marietta’s town library, founded with Clarke’s support, in 1893.

During her final years, Clarke, no longer able to travel, spent time with family and followed the news, taking a special interest in the 1896 presidential election between William McKinley and William Jennings Bryan. A letter she wrote to her sister-in-law suggests that her imagination and curiosity remained undiminished: “How I should have liked to take a flying machine, and fly from city to city, all over the country, to see the great crowds on election day!”[7]

Sources

Capper, Charles, Margaret Fuller: an American Romantic Life, v. 1, the private years. Oxford University Press, 1994.

Clarke, James Freeman, Autobiography, diary and correspondence, edited by Edward Everett Hale, Boston, Houghton Mifflin, 1891.

Emerson, Ralph Waldo. Journals and miscellaneous notebooks, Volume 7, edited by William H. Gilman and others, Harvard University Press, 1960.

Fuller, Margaret. The Letters of Margaret Fuller, Volume I, 1817-38, and Volume III, 1842-44, edited by Robert N. Hudspeth, Cornell University Press, 1983.

Kopp, Joan Alice. Sarah Freeman Clarke, 1808-1896: a woman of the nineteenth century. Marietta, Ga: Cobb Landmarks & Historical Society, 1993.

Marshall, Megan. Margaret Fuller: a new American life. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2013.

Marshall, Megan. The Peabody Sisters: Three Women Who Ignited American Romanticism. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2005.

Myerson, Joel. “A True and High-Minded Person: Transcendentalist Sarah Clarke. Southwest Review, Spring 1974, 163-172.

Stebbins, Theodore E. , Jr. The Lure of Italy: American artists and the Italian experience, 1760-1914. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, in association with Harry N. Abrams, Inc., Publishers.

[1] Clarke, 17.

[2] Emerson, 395.

[3] Quoted in Capper, 215.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Fuller, vol. III, 147.

[6] Stebbins, 39.

[7] Quoted in Kopp, 95.

by Susan Martin, Processing Archivist & EAD Coordinator

Today (20 November) marks the 199th anniversary of a tragic day for the whaling ship Essex. The Essex had sailed from Nantucket, Mass. on 12 August 1819, traveling from the North Atlantic to the South Atlantic, around Cape Horn, and up the west coast of South America. But 15 months into the journey, on 20 November 1820, while hunting in the Pacific Ocean, the ship was rammed by a very angry and very large sperm whale.

If this sounds familiar, it may be because this event served as an inspiration for Herman Melville’s Moby Dick. But as historian Nathaniel Philbrick explains in his 2000 book In the Heart of the Sea, “the point at which Melville’s novel ends—the sinking of the ship—was merely the starting point for the story of the real-life Essex disaster” (p. xiii). The 20 crew members who fled in the ship’s whaleboats would spend three months stranded at sea, their number eventually dwindling to eight.

When I searched our catalog for more information, I found that the MHS holds books on this subject published between 1999 and 2016, as well as a pamphlet called Loss of the Essex, Destroyed by a Whale, written in 1884 by Robert Bennet Forbes. Forbes was a merchant, sailor, and scion of a famous Boston family. He started his pamphlet with this eye-catching sentence: “Now that the word ‘cannibalism’ is forced upon our notice so unnecessarily, it seems a good time to make a few notes on the fate of the crew of the Essex.”

Wow, I didn’t see that coming.

Forbes’ pamphlet was clearly published in response to some provocation, but I couldn’t determine what that was. Sixty-four years had passed since the ship’s fateful voyage, and most of its crewmen were dead. (Several writers count Thomas Nickerson as the last survivor, but Seth Weeks died in 1887.) Moreover, the darker parts of the story had never been a secret. First mate Owen Chase had published his version of events in 1821. It was called Narrative of the Most Extraordinary and Distressing Shipwreck of the Whale-Ship Essex and included explicit details.

It’s possible that Nickerson’s death in 1883 had revived interest and prompted Forbes’ reply, but I can’t be sure. In any case, Forbes explained, unemotionally, the facts of the matter. Yes, the crew had resorted to cannibalism to survive their three grueling months at sea, but similar incidents had been known to occur throughout history. Forbes’ purpose was evidently to provide context and defend the decisions made by the desperate crew. In fact, the subtitle of his pamphlet is: With an Account of the Sufferings of the Crew, Who Were Driven to Extreme Measures to Sustain Life.

Forbes largely relied on Owen Chase as a source. Other fragmentary versions of the story existed, but Chase got to print first, so his became the dominant one. As first mate, Chase had been responsible for the men in one of the three whaleboats, and he undoubtedly felt the need to defend his actions both during the initial whale hunt and in the months after.

In 1960, a mysterious manuscript was found in an attic in New York. This manuscript was later authenticated as the work of Thomas Nickerson, cabin boy on the Essex, who’d been only 14 when the ship sailed out of Nantucket. In 1876, he wrote down his memories of the voyage and even drew sketches of scenes as he remembered them. (Our friends at the Nantucket Historical Association now hold this manuscript.) Nathaniel Philbrick and others have discussed the ways these two accounts differ.

Some elements of the Essex tragedy are particularly fraught. First, while most of the men who died succumbed to starvation, one did not; 18-year-old Owen Coffin was shot after the drawing of lots. Second, a disproportionate number of the earliest crew members to die were men of color.

All in all, the story of the Essex is a haunting reminder of the dark but undeniable parts of American history.

Speaking of Moby Dick, the MHS collections include a 1930 hardback edition of Melville’s classic novel with beautiful illustrations by Rockwell Kent. I couldn’t resist using Kent’s illustrations in this post, although they depict the Pequod instead of the Essex.

Sources at the MHS:

Dowling, David O. Surviving the Essex: The Afterlife of America’s Most Storied Shipwreck. Hanover, N.H.: ForeEdge, an imprint of University Press of New England, 2016.

Forbes, R. B. Loss of the Essex, Destroyed by a Whale: With an Account of the Sufferings of the Crew, Who Were Driven to Extreme Measures to Sustain Life. Cambridge, Mass.: John Wilson and Son, 1884.

Haverstick, Iola and Betty Shepard, eds. The Wreck of the Whaleship Essex: A Narrative Account by Owen Chase, First Mate. San Diego: Harcourt, Brace & Co., 1999.

Melville, Herman. Moby Dick, or the Whale. New York: Random House, 1930.

Philbrick, Nathaniel. In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex. New York: Viking, 2000.

by Molly Laas, MHS Short Term Fellow an dACLS/Mellon Public Fellow & Editor at Data & Society

One of the least exciting archival holdings I was set to check out at the Massachusetts Historical Society was a copy of Edward Atkinson’s 1892 book The Science of Nutrition. I am writing a history of the formation of nutrition science in the U.S., and Atkinson, a Boston businessman and self-taught economist, was very interested in food and diet. He cultivated close ties with both the newly minted home economics movement and the chemists and physiologists who were framing the central questions of nutrition science. Despite Atkinson’s proximity to the development of nutrition science in the U.S., his book merited only a quick glance from me because I had already read it, and found it bizarre and tedious. The book was not about science at all, but instead extolled the virtues of the Aladdin oven, a slow cooker of Atkinson’s own design, that purportedly would help workers live within their means by allowing them to stew dry beans and cheap, tough cuts of meat to palatable tenderness. If workers could control their own cost of living, boom, there would be no need for them to agitate for higher wages, and the labor problem would be solved.

However, The Science of Nutrition became more interesting to me as I sat in the MHS reading room to examine the circumstances of its launch into the world. Labor advocates, economists, and scientists of the day issued scathing critiques of Atkinson’s notion that controlling food costs would allow workers to live on a shockingly low salary, as little as $500 a year. Yet The Science of Nutrition can be found in nearly every academic library in the United States. Andrew Carnegie was a strong supporter of Atkinson’s diet and cost of living theories, and provided the funds to send copies to thousands of U.S. libraries.[1] The book’s prevalence got me thinking about how a science of daily life, like nutrition, is defined in the public mind.

At the turn of the century, professional scientists had a different view than Atkinson did about the purpose of nutrition science and what it could and could not achieve. One scientist, W.O. Atwater, thought of nutrition science as a means for improving health, and part of his aim was to set a high dietary standard that was ample enough to facilitate better health and strength for laborers. He took a dim view of the Aladdin oven and was far more cautious than Atkinson was about the question of wages and diet, noting in an 1886 letter to Atkinson that “there are a Scylla of labor agitation and a Charybdis of physiological considerations to sail between.”[2] Atkinson, as was his wont, powered his boat straight ahead into the controversy, with a series of incendiary speeches before labor unions about how they could live well on pennies using his oven.[3]

The controversy over The Science of Nutrition lays bare a central tension in the history of nutrition, between professional scientists and lay diet teachers of all stripes. Nutrition is not just a laboratory science producing a one-way flow of facts about diet; popular demands upon nutrition science deeply influence the kinds of questions scientists ask. In addition, professional scientists are just one, not always very loud or authoritative, voice in a raucous public discussion about diet and health.[4]

Which leads me, slowly and warmly, back to Atkinson’s The Science of Nutrition. What does its ubiquity in archives and libraries tell us about the way the public understood nutrition science in the late nineteenth century? For one thing, Atkinson’s lively public persona and taste for notoriety was an excellent way to spread his ideas. The public pushback that Atwater received from labor advocates cemented the notion that nutrition was a science of parsimony and limited diets, rather than one that aimed at ample nutrition and a high standard of living. One worker summed up this view in an open letter to Atkinson, writing that Atkinsons’s “cantankerous” state of mind was caused by his “great disappointment in seeing the laboring and producing classes suddenly rise up in a body and refuse to be starved.”[5]

[1] Atkinson to Theodore A. Havermeyer, Nov 20 1895, Atkinson to Thomas Egleston, March 9 1896, MHS archives.

[2] W.O. Atwater to Atkinson, Nov 6 1886. MHS.

[3] Atkinson, Addresses Upon the Labor Question (Boston: Franklin Press: Rand, Avery & Company, 1886). MHS.

[4] Rima D. Apple, Vitamania: Vitamins in American Culture (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1996); Corinna Treitel, Eating Nature in Modern Germany: Food, Agriculture, and Environment, c.1870 to 2000 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017).

[5] W.H. McLaughlin, “An Open Letter to Mr. Edward Atkinson,” Boston Daily Globe (1872-1922), September 3, 1896.

By Anna Clutterbuck-Cook, Reader Services

Today, we return to the diary of George Hyland. If this is your first time encountering our 2019 diary series, catch up by reading the January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, and October 1919 installments first!

November brings new rhythms to George’s workdays. With the harvest in for the season he turns to preparing fields and farmyards for the winter, beating rugs, cleaning windows, carrying ash, chopping wood, planting blubs, and selling junk to the local junk dealer. He observes Armistice Day — the one year anniversary of the end of the Great War — and Thanksgiving Day. Snow storms batter the coast and twice he goes to Egypt Beach to observe the high waters and waves. As we close in on the final weeks of 1919, we see George settling in for the winter ahead.

Join me in following George day-by-day through November 1919.

* * *

PAGE 350 (cont’d)

Nov. 1. Dug potatoes 5 1/2 hours for Mrs. Hazel Dimond (nee Reddy) – 1.65 and dug up and housed dalia [sic] bulbs 1h. 10m. for Mrs. Mary Wilder — 35. Cloudy W.S.W. and S. tem. 48-57. Eve cloudy, W.N.E. Played on the guitar 1h. 10 min. In eve. 9 P.M. light rain.

2d. (Sun.) rain until about noon; W.N.E. cold storm. Aft. clou. Eve. par. Clou. W.N.E. 11 P.M., nearly clear.

3d. Par. clou. To cloudy rain. 15 min. In aft. W.N.E. cold. Harvested my carrots and parsnips in my garden on the James place — had 2 1/2 bus. of carrots and 1 bu. And 1 peck of parsnips — gave Mr. James 1/2 peck of parsnips and carrots, all he wanted. Eve. clou. cold. Played on the guitar 1 1/4 hours in eve. 11:50 P.M. par. clou. W.E.

4th. Election Day (State). Went to State Election in the Town Hall, Scituate Cen. Voted Republican ticket entire. Rode there and back with Fred T. Bailey — in his coach (close) automobile — Belva C. Merritt rode to her home with us. Mr. James rode back with us from S. Cen. In aft. Worked 3 1/2 hours for Miss Edith C. Sargent — cleared all the corn stalks, vines and etc. (50) and wheeled them into the swamp — dug up her dalia bulbs also some for Mrs. Eudora Bailey and put them in the cellar. Went into the house after I fin. the work — staid [sic] 1/2 h. Mrs. Bailey gave me some five pears (Bosc). Cloudy; W.E. began to rain about 5:30 P.M. rain all eve. W.E. cold. Played on the guitar 1h. 10min. late in eve. got in some of my wood — old boards, etc.

5th. Rain all day and eve. W.N.E. and N.W. windy. Worked in house to-day — got the rubber of of some elect. light wire — got the copper ready to sell. Got all my junk ready for junk dealer.

PAGE 351

Cold storm. Snow-storm for 1/2 hour about dark. Played on the guitar — 1 1/2 hours in eve. Rain and gale (36m.) all night.

6th. Cold. Very windy in forenoon. Max w. 36m. W.N.N.W. light rain all day and part of eve. Sold all my junk this aft. — to Samuel Benson, junk dealer. Played on the guitar 1 ½ hours in eve. Eve. cloudy, cold. Sold 30 pounds of rags and old cloth _ _ _ _ 30.

60 pds. of iron – 15.

8 pds. of copper — 88.

5 pds. of brass — 25.

7 pds. of zinc — 21.

2 1/2 pds. of lead — 7.

3 pds. of rubber — 8. — $1.94

7th. Clou. Cold misty rain in forenoon. W.N.E. Windy. Late in aft. Worked 1h. 55m. For Mrs. Ethel Torrey — sawed and chopped down the upper half of a cherry tree and sawed off some of the lower limbs — 55. Eve. clou. Played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours in eve. — also repaired some of my clothes. Made a wash tub in forenoon. 11 P.M., begins to clear. 11:42 P.M. circle around the moon for a few minutes.

8th. Worked 4 hours for Mrs. Ethel Torrey trimmed out the cherry tree wood and piled it up and carried the trash to a dump also dug up and transplanted 4 rose bushes — 1.20. Also split wood 3/4 hour for Mrs. Cora Bailey — 20. Clou in forenoon — clear at noon. Aft. clear to par. clou. W.E. to S.E. Played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours in eve. Tem. to-day – 40-48.

9th. Sun. Clear. W.E. cold wind. Went to Egypt Beach, then walked along the shore — on the sea wall part of the way — to the glades — end of N.S. beach. Road badly damaged by the waves dur. the storm. Sea wall badly damaged in some places — […] damaged all along the shore, large number of people at the beaches — to view the waves and see the effect of the storm for the past 2 or 3 days. Water went under the “Merton” and comfort cottages, but did no damage to them. East wind cold at the sea shore. Ocean very rough. Walked all the way — 7 miles. Many automobiles along the shore rodes. 37 passed by me in 5 min — by my watch. Eve. clear. Calm.

10th. Worked 6 3/4 hours for Mrs. Bailey Ellis and B. Ellis — washing windows (outside) and dusting the rugs and carpets. Fine weather — clear; W.E. Very heavy frost this A.M. Eve. clear. Washed a blanket in eve — 1 hour then played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours. Heavy firing in directions of Boston — 8:30 to 8:45 P.M.

11th. Armistice Day. X Worked 7 hours for Mrs. Christine Ellis (nee Christine Bullard) washing and polishing windows and beating (dusting) rugs and carpets — 2.10. Evelyn Whiting also worked there for Mrs. Ellis. Was there yesterday too. Cloudy, W.S.W. and S.E. Very damp. Eve — cloudy, W.E. Played on the guitar 1 ¼ hours in eve. 12:20 (mid.) raining. | The Great War ended 1 year ago to-day. X

12th. Misty rain in forenoon. Aft. clou. W.S.W. did some work at home — washing and etc. Sold 14 ponds of rags to S. Benson — 14. Paid $1.00 this A.M. to Mrs. Bertha Bates (nee Hobson) as dues for Red Cross membership — for 1920. She gave me a Red Cross — design for 1920 — and a R.C. Button with date — 1920 on it. I joined the Red Cross in 1917. Dues — $1.00 per year. Mrs. B. is agent for this part of the town. Eve. cloudy. Played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours in eve. Received a N.Y. “Sunday Times” from Lottie to-day — from Groton, Conn.

13th. Cloudy in forenoon. W.N.E. light rain in aft. Mrs. Ethel Torrey came here late in aft. To get me to make a garden for chrysanthemums. I went there to do it but it began to rain — W.N.E. and I came back. Cold storm all eve. Mrs. Christine Ellis paid me for all work I have done there — 13 1/4 hours in all $4.13. Did some work at home to-day. Played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours in Eve. 11:30. Clear. Cold. W.N.W. windy.

14th. Worked 1 hour for Mrs. Ethel Torrey. Made a garden and transplanted some chrysanthemums in it — 30. Also worked 5 hours for S.T. Speare (his father) cleaned out a large poultry house (dust very plenty) and dug up the ground in a poultry yard — 4.50.

Ice this A.M. W.N.W. cold. clear. Ellery Hyland called here in eve. Played on the guitar 1 1/4 hours in eve. Eve. clear. cold.

15th. Worked 5 hours for Mr. Speare — 1.50. Cold. Clear. W.N.N.W. Called at Mr. James’ early in eve to help Mrs. [space left blank for name] get her trunks ready for express — to carry to the R.R. Sta. She is going back to Seattle, Wash. to-morrow. A.M. Eve. cold. Clear. Lucine E. Bates spent eve. here. Mrs. Ethel Torrey gave me a pint of milk to-day. Washed some of my clothes early in eve.

16th. (Sun.) Clear. Cold. W.N.W.N. and W.S.W. tem. About 26-46.

17th. Worked 5 1/2 hours for Mrs. Christine Ellis — washing windows (2d story) also dusted two blankets — 1.65. Have washed 39 windows — 1st and 2d stories. Par. clou. W.S.W. tem. 42-50. Eve hazy. 11 P.M. Clear. Warm for season. Early in eve went to Mr. Albert D. Spaulding’s (1 mile) and paid my taxes — for 1918 — $15.14. Then went to Mrs. M.G. Seaverns’ store and bought some groceries — then went to W. Bates’ and got a bedstead (iron) that Mrs. Bertha Bates gave me to-day all before I had supper. Played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours. Ellery B. Hyland called here in eve.

18th. Worked 5 1/2 hours for Mr. James — housing wood and clearing up the place — fine weather — par. cloudy W.S. tem. 46-59. Miss Edith C. Sargent came to the place where I was raking leaves and said Mrs. Eudora Bailey would like to engage me to do the work there this winter — carry out the goal ashes — shovel paths when snow comes. She lives with Mrs. B. opp.. the James place. Played on the guitar 1 ½ hours in eve. Eve. clear. Tem. 46.

19th Worked 6 hours for Mr. Speare — diging [sic] up the ground in poultry yards and wheeling the best dirt down around the lawn, also put 8 loads around Mrs. Ethel Torrey’s shrubs and plants — 1.80. Cold and windy (N.W.) clear to par. Clou. eve. Clou. very windy and cold. Played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours in eve. 11 P.M. Snow storm tem. 28. Max. wind about 36m

20th. Worked 5 hours for Mrs. M.G. Seaverns — put on storm door, cellar windows and split 2 large logs — and sawed and split some of it. Swept snow from walks and […] and did some chores — 1.50. Cold and windy; W.N.W.; tem. 25-38. Played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours in eve. Eve cold. Tem. 27.

21st. Worked 6 hours for Mr. Speare — cleaning boxes where he sets hens (incubator room) and diging up ground in poultry yard and wheeling it to a garden and spreading it on the ground — 1.80. Warmer to-day tem. 27-48; W.W. to S.W. eve. Cloudy. Played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours in eve. 11:30 P.M., clou. W.N.W.

22nd. Worked 6 hours for Mr. Speare — diging up ground in poultry yards and wheeling the dirt on to the gardens — 1.80. Mr. S. has many yards and a large number of hens and chickens. They are all Rhode Island Reds. Clear to par. Clou. W.S.W. to S. tem. about 40-60. Played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours in eve. 8:45 P.M., raining. Light rain all eve. Met Mrs. Bessie W. Prouty (nee Clapp) in Mrs. Seaverns’ store early in eve.

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23rd. (Sun.) fair. W.N.W. late in aft. Tem about 30-48. Went to Egypt Beach via […] Road and […] Hill — went to edge of water — dipped my hand in water when a small wave came up. Ret. through Egypt. Just 1 hour coming from beach to my home 3 1/2 miles. Did not hurry. Walked down and back. 3:20 P.M. to 5:30 P.M. Eve. clear to par. Clou. Boiled some turnips, carrots, parsnips, and beets in eve. From my garden at the James place. Also a few carrots from Mrs. Ethel Torrey’s garden.

24th. Worked 6 hours for Mr. Speare — diging up ground for a place to sow rye — 1.80. Clear. Cold. W.N.E. to N.W. Mr. [space left blank for name] Cluff, agent for S.S. Pierce & Co., large grocery dealers, Boston, called at Mr. Speare’s this forenoon — he wants me to do some landscape gardening for him next spring. Lives in Roxbury, Mass. Eve. clear. Cold. Played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours in eve.

25th. In forenoon dug up ground 2 hours for Mr. Speare — 60. In aft. Worked 4 hours for Mrs. Ethel Torrey — trimming shrubs and etc. — 1.20. Fair to par. Clou. W.S.W. eve. Cloudy. Began to rain about 7:35 P.M. Light rain all eve. Played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours in eve. Rain all night (light rain).

26th. Rain all day W.N.E. In forenoon worked 2 hours for Mrs. Ethel Torrey — carrying coal ashes out of the cellar — 66. Got wet. Rain until about 11:30 P.M. Then clou. Colder. Played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours in eve.

27th. (Thanksgiving Day.) In forenoon worked 1 1/3 hours for Mr. Speare — smoothing over the ground and sowing rye. Late in aft. | 40. Went to Hingham — on 4:12 P.M. tr. then walked to Hingham Cen. to Henrietta’s. Arr. 5:10 P.M. Carried my guitar — played 1 1/2 hours in eve. Uncle Samuel and Ellen there. They spent the day there. Frank carried them home about 6:30 P.M. in his automobile. I had supper and staid [sic] there all night. Cloudy. Very damp. W.E. Cold. Light snow storm in eve (late).

28th. Staid in Hingham. Worked 6 hours for Henrietta — 1.00 — helping Frank tear down a building. Cloudy to fair. W.E. Cold. In eve played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours.

29th. Staid in Hingham. Worked 6 hours for Henrietta — helping Frank take down building — 1.00. Cloudy; W.S. and S. Began to rain (light) about 2:30 P.M. Had supper there and came home in eve. Walked to Hingham Sta. (1 1/4 miles) and came on 7 P.M. tr. began to rain again when I was about half way to H. Sta. rain all eve. W.S.W. warm. — tem. 52. Played on the guitar 1 1/2 hours in eve. 12 (mid) still raining.

30th. (Sun.) Clear. Warm. W.W. to N.W. tem. 50-66. Very windy – gale 36 m. Eve. clear. Cold. W.N.W. Staid at home to-day.

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If you are interested in viewing the diary in person in our library or have other questions about the collection, please visit the library or contact a member of the library staff for further assistance.

*Please note that the diary transcription is a rough-and-ready version, not an authoritative transcript. Researchers wishing to use the diary in the course of their own work should verify the version found here with the manuscript original. The catalog record for the George Hyland’s diary may be found here. Hyland’s diary came to us as part of a collection of records related to Hingham, Massachusetts, the catalog record for this larger collection may be found here.