By Meg Szydlik, Visitor Services Coordinator

As Halloween approaches and the air becomes colder, I find my mind turning to all things spooky and supernatural, including witches. Witches in Massachusetts have a long and storied history, though up until recently it was not a happy one. While Salem, for example, is home to a lot of self-proclaimed witches nowadays, the 1690s witch-related history is pretty ugly. You can learn more about the connections between the MHS and the Salem Witch Trials in this podcast.

While the Salem Witch Trials are an especially famous example of New England’s hostility towards those suspected of consorting with the devil, witch hunts were not unique to the region. In fact, Europeans were having witch trials back in the medieval period. They brought those ideas and fears with them across the Atlantic along with physical copies of books they used to help identify and prosecute witches. Books with titles so long they are not fully written out in our catalogue like A collection of modern relations of matter of fact, concerning witches & witchcraft upon the persons of people… and The infallible trve and assvred vvitch haunt the stacks. I took a look at one specific book called A compleat history of magick, sorcery, and witchcraft… and learned a lot about these supposed witches.

According to A compleat history, women are far more likely to be witches because they are more frail than men, but also “partly because they are more inclined to revenge (15).” I confess that while I expected the frailty argument, much as I disagree with it, the revenge argument startled me a bit! While many stories portray witches as vengeful, I had never heard the reasoning that women are inherently more revenge driven. Truthfully, given the way women are treated, if revenge was the reason women become witches, I’m surprised there weren’t more!

While women were most commonly accused of being witches, men could be as well. In the Salem Witch Trials, for example, 5 men were hanged for witchcraft along with 14 women. A compleat history provides modern, rock-solid methods to prove that someone is a witch: find their Mark (where the devil allegedly marked those who served him) or see if they float in water since “God having ordained, that such as had cast off the Water of Baptism should not be received into Water, but swim upon it (23).” Different books advise different things, of course, and every trial has their own specific rules. There is a clear desire in this guidebook to demonstrate that the witches in their case studies are causing actual harm and “fits” through the spirit realm. Reading it with modern eyes, I can see how it would be persuasive in a world where these types of beliefs were normal and there were no other clear explanations for the behaviors.

Witchcraft is such a fascinating subject because it taps into a view of reality that we simply do not have today in 2023. As a society, we do not believe that people can encounter the devil and do supernatural harm that can be pursued in court. While things like spirits and vampires are definitely still common in pop culture, they are not part of the legal understanding of the world. A huge shift from a world in which respected community leaders decided if spectral evidence was admissible in court. Today, witches still exist, but they are no longer seen as people who have relations with the devil. Instead, Wicca and other religious traditions embrace the title “witch” with a very different spin, one where they are hopefully not the target of state-sanctioned violence.

 By Emily Petermann, Library Assistant

Lots of important events happen in the month of October: Halloween, National Chocolate Day, John Adams’ 288th birthday, and . . . American Archives Month! For today’s blog post we’re celebrating American Archives Month and embracing the spookiness of Halloween by investigating what haunts the hallowed halls (and librarians) of the MHS. 

Redrum….rot? 

For years, employees have walked through seemingly endless rows of shelving that make up the storage in the MHS building; rows that are stacked nearly floor to ceiling with boxes, with call slips to mark removed materials in hand, and a book truck to cart materials back and forth from the stacks to the Reading Room. 

But something else wanders those shelves too- and has since the Society moved to 1154 Boylston Street in 1899. 

Once the staff leave the stacks, and the rows of shelves again lie under cover of darkness, something else prowls the shelves. It touches many books in the collection, trailing its rusty fingertips along the shelves as it wanders the aisles.

On this chilly October morning, a librarian enters the stacks. They shiver with the temperature difference- going from the 124-year-old main building to the climate-controlled stacks can be a shock on any morning. (Seriously, the scariest thing in our building may be the AC. When you visit, we recommend bringing a sweater to fend off the cold!) 

But is it just the temperature, with what we know is lurking? 

Fortunately for the librarian, they only have one item to pull–a bound volume from the 1850s. They stride in confidently, knowing exactly where this volume will be. But what they don’t know is that the volume will be high up on the top shelf, well above their head. It’s a common occurrence with shelves from floor to ceiling, to have to stretch (or grab the squeaky stepstool) to reach materials. So, they sigh, reach up as high as they can, and give the book a gentle tug to pull it off the shelf. 

That’s when it strikes. 

Red spots of digested and disintegrating leather flow from the book, hanging in a haze in the air, and shower the librarian and the shelves. Red spots cover the librarian’s hair and face, cover the cardigan they wear, and stain their white shirt. They look, to be frank, like a murder has occurred in the hallowed halls of the MHS. 

They have encountered red rot. 

After a quick pause to think through what they were just showered with, all the librarian can do is sigh and put the call slip back where the volume had sat. This throws up another puff of the red dust that has accumulated where the book has been sitting. They bring the book down to the Reading Room for the researcher to use and begin a futile attempt to get the leather particles of their clothing without staining. This book will require everyone who handles it to wash their hands, making the water run red with the decay that has happened in the stacks. 

Red rot is a form of decay that can happen to vegetable-tanned leather items. It’s a natural effect of the leather aging, which means that it’s touched quite a few volumes in our collection. We keep all of our materials in dark, climate-controlled spaces to slow down this natural process and make sure any volumes get preservation attention as needed. Want to know more about red rot? Check out Explore Libraries and Archives Mutual Ltd.’s article here. 

You are being watched.  

The stacks are a funny place- between the rows and rows of shelving, the concrete floors, and different doorways in and out of the stacks, you can never truly tell when you are alone. Footsteps echo through the floors, sometimes sounding as if someone has walked directly behind you as you scan the shelves. Doors that are floors away slam as if they were right next to you, and yet coworkers can accidentally sneak up behind you without realizing someone else had stepped onto the floor. 

Having shaken off their encounter with red rot, the librarian steps back into another floor of stacks to search for another box. Just as the door closes behind them, the lights finally flicker on and faintly–very faintly–they hear the sound of footsteps. Probably from one of the other stacks upstairs, but it still sets their nerves on edge. 

They carefully pick through the stacks, looking for the correct collection. Somewhere in the stacks, there are more footsteps–a quick glance around still doesn’t calm their nerves. As they round the end of an aisle, something flits through the corner of their eye. Something different. 

There is someone else in the stacks. 

Someone tall, ghostly pale, who was not there just moments ago. Someone who is staring directly down the aisle. 

Over the 232 years (9 months, 4 days) that the MHS has existed, it has collected some . . . interesting items. Most of them are exceedingly cool–when you’re expecting them. There are a few items that tend to sneak up on you. Especially when you consider the fact that they . . . are everywhere. We’ve tucked items into every (climate controlled, secure) nook and cranny that we have! You are almost always within 10 feet of someone’s portrait or bust, supervising you as you work. When they move, it can catch you off guard.  

Meet Jared Sparks. Or rather, Jared Spark’s bust, based on the original made by Hiram Powers in 1857. Spark’s bust used to sit on the floor with other busts in the collection, but was recently put up on a pedestal, creating the illusion of a stranger in the stacks. 

We hope you have a safe and happy Halloween! 

If you’re looking for more spooky stories about the MHS, check out this blog post: Scary Stories to Tell in the Stacks.

By Susan Martin, Senior Processing Archivist

This is the final installment in a series. Click here to read Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, and Part VIII.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this guided tour through the Civil War service of Pvt. Howard J. Ford of Cambridge, Mass. We finish up the series today with the last few pages of his journal, which was acquired by the MHS in 2019.

The spring of 1863 was chaotic for Howard. His regiment, the 43rd Massachusetts Infantry, was ordered out from New Bern to Washington, N.C., three separate times in less than two weeks. He was clearly exhausted and frustrated. On 17 April, he wrote:

Just 10 days ago tonight at 9 ½ o’clock we were tumbled out of bed and started for Little Washington by the overland route. Got back to camp at 3 P.M. the 10th. About 2 P.M. the 11th started again for L.W. but this time by the water route. Got back to camp at 11 ½ P.M. the 15th inst. And today we are ordered off again at 2 P.M. to go on the “Escort” again for Little Washington. We have been knocked about so much that only 259 men left camp. Some fell out by the way.

The reason for all this movement was a Confederate siege on Washington, a Union-occupied town 40 miles to the north. (It was called by some “Little Washington” to distinguish it from the national capital.) Howard didn’t see much action there, but he was impressed by the blockade runner Escort. On this third deployment, the regiment found the Confederate batteries deserted, and many “disheartened” rebel soldiers simply walked up and surrendered. Howard got a chance to visit the town, which he thought “quite pretty,” and to attend an African American church service.

He also drew an impressive diagram of the Union entrenchments.

The 43rd Regiment left again for New Bern on 24 April. The following week was fairly uneventful, except for a short excursion west toward Kinston and back. Howard’s journal describes a quiet period in camp; he made a ring for his daughter, bought a straw hat to help with the heat, and weighed himself—161 pounds, 204 ½ with all his equipment. The troops even captured a fawn, which Howard called “a beautiful creature.”

His last entry was written on 3 May 1863 and reads only: “All Well as usual.”

I couldn’t find any records accounting for his whereabouts or activities for the next two months, but I do know that he never made it home.

Howard J. Ford died of typhoid fever on 1 July 1863 at Hammond General Hospital in Beaufort, N.C., one week after his nine-month term of service had expired. According to the National Museum of Civil War Medicine, “there were 75,148 documented cases of typhoid fever with 27,058 deaths (36% mortality rate) within the Union army. […] In a war where two thirds of deaths were from disease, typhoid fever was among the deadliest.”

Howard was survived by his wife Mary Agnes (Reid) Ford and their two young children, Howard and Lizzie. Unfortunately, little Howard died of scarlet fever just five years later, when he was seven. Mary never remarried and lived until 1920, dying just a few weeks shy of her 80th birthday. And Lizzie, who was less than a year old when her father died, lived to be 89 and was survived by three daughters, three sons, and at least four grandchildren.

By Heather Rockwood, Communications Manager

Happy Halloween season! The “dead” are everywhere you look, including in the MHS archives. From paintings to books, to letters and jewelry, the creators and wearers are all deceased. Although we know they are gone, we continue to research and talk about their lives. The following pieces from the MHS collection show us those that have died in a very real way.

These two paintings offer different perspectives on the dead—one of a deceased man who looks alive, and the other of corpse that is . . . stuffed. The first painting is of Captain George H. Bush of the 13th Regiment of Massachusetts Infantry. The painting jumped out at me because the artist made it postmortem, or after the subject has died. Most postmortem paintings show the subject sleeping or in repose, but Capt. Bush is standing, alive and well. The second painting is of the funeral of Billy Bruin, a bear that was supposed to be on display at an amusement park in Wellesley, Massachusetts, but soon after he arrived, he escaped and was found dead ten days later. His owner, who also owned the amusement park, decided to capitalize on Billy anyway and planned a lavish funeral for the bear. A stuffed Billy is atop a litter with people parading before and behind him in costume, military uniform, or festive dress, some play in a band. Other figures wear Native American clothing, but it is unclear if they are Indigenous people.

This beautiful brooch is a special piece in the MHS collection. The hair inside is from Mercy Otis Warren, who was an author and playwright who wrote a history of the American Revolution. After its publication in 1805, her friends, John and Abigail Adams read it, and because of its critical portrayal of John, the relationship broke off. However, in 1812 they rekindled the friendship and to celebrate, Abigail Adams had a ring and a brooch made for herself. The brooch contains Mercy’s hair intertwined with Abigail’s. Although the brooch was not made as a mourning object, Mercy passed in 1814 and Abigail most likely cared for this brooch as a memorial item of her friend. This can be speculated because hair jewelry was customarily made as remembrances or as memorials of a loved one.  

Here is your warning that the following quote depicts a horrifying scene in the aftermath of the Battle of Shiloh, during the Civil War. Horace Newton Fisher wrote a letter to his father, Francis Fisher, on 10 April 1862, after participating in the battle, including this description:

It is estimated that the U.S. lost 7000 men and killed & wounded and 3000 prisoners…and that theirs exceeds 30000 men (by their own estimate). Most horrible thought! The dead men & dead horses lay in piles, the wounded were on every side.

His visual and evocative wording takes us to that battlefield and the colossal death, destruction, and tragedy that he witnessed before his eyes.

By Susan Martin, Senior Processing Archivist

This is the eighth installment in a series. Click here to read Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, and Part VII.

Thanks to those of you who’ve been following the story of Pvt. Howard J. Ford of the 43rd Massachusetts Infantry Regiment here at the Beehive. I’ve enjoyed doing this deep dive into his Civil War experiences, as told in his own words.

The weeks following my previous post consisted of alternating periods of dull routine and bustling activity. Howard’s company was stationed at New Bern, N.C., and was involved in various patrols, marches, and skirmishes in the area, including the successful defense of New Bern on the one-year anniversary of its capture by the Union and a fight at Blounts Creek. After the latter, Howard confessed that he was so tired, “If I was 50 last night, I was 70 years old tonight.”

There are a few general themes that recur in Howard’s journal during this time.

Moments of Quiet

I’ve often felt the most moving passages in soldiers’ reminiscences are those moments of peace and quiet juxtaposed against the violence. For example, the day after Howard killed a Confederate soldier, he wrote, “I saw one little violet in bloom on the battlefield. It was the first wild one I have seen and I will send it home.” He also described standing so still on picket duty at dawn that birds approached within a few feet of him. Of course, nothing made a soldier more wistful than letters from home; Howard missed his “good wife,” “darling boy” (3 years), and “little daughter” (7 months).

The Troops’ Resourcefulness

Howard attended a party in camp featuring music, recitations, and even ventriloquism. He was “astonished” by one musician in particular, who had crafted a violin from a hard tack box! “As to the workmanship,” he said, “no one would have suspected its humble origin. The glue even was made in camp.” According to Edward Rogers’ history of the regiment, “a camp of Yankees is a jack-knife paradise” (p. 128). Many of the soldiers were skilled artisans, after all. As I discussed in a previous post, Howard and friends built their own barracks from the ground up. Howard also made a ring for his wife out of a piece of bone.

Civilians and Soldiers

Civilian visits to camp, like one in March 1863 by the proprietor of the Boston Journal, were pleasant interludes, but also jarring ones. Howard wrote that, “A person in citizen’s dress looks as odd to us, as a monkey does to the children, when it is dressed up in a skirt and cap.” Edward Rogers agreed: “Amid warlike scenes,” civilians looked, well, ridiculous. “We were at home: they were not. Our individuality had been merged in each other until every man felt, in some respects, as though he had the strength of a thousand” (p. 135).

Cpl. James K. Odell

Howard’s admiration for James Kelley Odell is clear. Odell, a corporal in Howard’s company, was one of a large family originally from New Hampshire. He’d lost both of his parents by the time he was 21, as well as an older brother who’d accidentally shot himself as a teenager. Now Odell was 29 and had a wife and child back home. Here’s what Howard had to say about him: “I well know that he would stick by me if I met with harm, no matter what the consequences were.” On a grueling 15-mile march, in spite of weak lungs, “Odell stood it like a hero.” James K. Odell died in 1918 at the age of 84.

Tricks of the Trade

I enjoyed reading about the tactics used by soldiers to outwit the enemy. One night on picket duty, Howard, waiting silently in the dark by the side of the road, was more amused than scared when he heard curiously similar cow bells ringing from opposite sides of the road, as well as suspiciously human-like roosters. (“Perhaps the reason he did not crow any better was that he was somewhat sleepy.”) Howard also introduced me to “Quaker cannons,” logs mounted on cart wheels and painted like cannons to intimidate the enemy. Both the Union and the Confederacy used them.

I hope you’ll join me for the next installment!

By Susan Martin, Senior Processing Archivist

This is the seventh installment in a series. Click here to read Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, and Part VI.

This post contains descriptions of graphic violence.

In this series about the Civil War journal of Howard J. Ford, I’ve argued that Howard’s journal paints a particularly vivid picture of the war. His use of sensory details makes it feel like you’re right there with him. Today I’d like to focus exclusively on his entry for 20 February 1863, an entry that begins: “Today is a great day in my term of service as a soldier.” In it, Howard describes a chilling encounter with an unnamed Confederate soldier that illustrates, in stark terms, the brutality of war.

When we left off a few weeks ago, Howard’s company (Company I of the 43rd Massachusetts Infantry Regiment) was enjoying some quiet days of picket duty at Evans’ Mill, not far from New Bern, North Carolina. Then Howard was selected to go on a scouting mission.

After dinner the Captain requested Odell through a sargent [sic] to take 4 trusty men and examine a certain road […] He selected of course, first, his friend H.J.F. then Mr. Snow and then 2 young men by the name of Brooks and Ashworth. (Lowell boys.)

The scouting group consisted of Cpl. James K. Odell; Harold himself (H.J.F.); Pvt. Russell L. Snow, who we met in Part VI; Pvt. Sager Brooks, an immigrant from England; and the youngest of the five, 19-year-old Pvt. Charles Ashworth.

We entered the road at the picket station, found a blocade [sic] all right, and pushed through till we reached the Pollocksville road without seeing anything suspicious. We were now keeping our eyes open for “signs” of rebels when we discovered tracks in the road. […] Now we were thoroughly awake and proceeded on slowly, examining the ground and the country round us with great care.

It wasn’t long before things went sideways.

We suddenly came on a Southerner crawling across the road on his belly. […] When he found himself discovered and that we were gaining on him he fired on us from a concealed weapon. Being 5 against one we seemed to have no fear of harm coming to us. Our bayonets were in our sheathes but our guns were loaded yet we did not seem to think of it but rushed to the attack determined to make way him as quickly as possible. Snow […] led the attack with cries of “kill him” and gave the old sneak a tremendous blow right in the middle of the back. I felt for an instant only some pangs of conscience at killing him but that is our business just now and my courage returning I instantly followed Snow with a crack on the head from my own rifle. I felt that it was but a merciful act as after Snow’s blow the reb was speechless though evidently in a suffering state. I repeated the blow on the head and he lay lifeless in the road.

Keep in mind, Howard was sending this journal home to his family in installments. In my experience, this kind of explicit account was rare for the time. Most soldiers shielded their families from the gruesome details—or avoided discussing them for reasons of their own mental health. Howard continued,

We were obliged to leave the mangled body where it fell for the present & continue to carry out the instructions of the Captain. The corporal who could hardly conceal his satisfaction at the result of his scout thus far, now led the way into the woods on the right.

Interestingly, Howard returned to the subject the next day.

I hope my relatives will not be alarmed at the dangerous position they may think we got into the other day. I hope you will approve the manner in which we killed the snake.

Howard volunteered for several more scouting trips in the days following this “great” and “exciting” event. On 1 March 1863, his company returned to Camp Rogers at New Bern. Stay tuned to the Beehive for more of Howard’s story.

By Susanna Sigler, Processing Assistant

I’ll be the first to confess it: I’m a notebook fiend.

It started innocently enough. Now, the collection I’ve amassed (and several times purged) should be enough to sustain me through at least ten Great American Novels. If only, of course, I actually wrote in any of these books for more than a few months at a time. As the child of a self-proclaimed Moleskine addict and a collector (and actual filler) of sketchbooks, I had no chance.

This is all to say that when I came across a set of 18th century ladies’ memorandum books in the Price-Osgood-Valentine papers, I was delighted and intrigued.

Printed in England and marketed towards upper-class women as a sort of daily planner, these books offered space to keep track of dates and household expenses as well as advice on topics such as marriage, managing staff (servants), parenting, and fashion.

Additional sections vary from book to book; one might include the line of succession to the English crown and currency tables, another the steps to popular dances and the songs that accompany them. My personal favorite is a section on monthly meal planning with a page of dinner ideas–“tripe fry’d,” anyone? In collections services at the MHS, we also found hilarious a section of riddles for which the reader had to wait until next year’s edition to find out the answers.

These planners offer a glimpse into the lives of the women who bought and used them, what was expected of them by English society at large, how they were being told to live their lives and with what responsibilities of person and home.

One essay, printed at the beginning of one of these books, is titled “Maxims for the LADIES concerning The ART of PLEASING.”

A few select quotes (I have taken the liberty of changing the 18th century f’s to s’s):

“It seems as if the Author of Nature, by giving Beauty of Person, and Softness of Manners to the Female Sex, intended their principal Business should be to please.”

“Modesty, is a young Maiden, is Sensibility check’d by Delicacy. It is the first and most pleasing Virtue of a Woman, as it is a proof her heart is capable of Love, and a Presumption that it will continue pure and uncorrupted. She who has no Sensibility, can have no Modesty.

“Cultivate in your Breast the Virtues of Mildness and Good-nature; for depend upon it, there is no Fiend that a Man would not sooner choose to be tormented with, than with that hideous Creature call’d a Woman of Spirit. A Woman of Spirit is a fallen Angel chang’d into a fury.”

I will resist the urge to get the last one printed on a t-shirt.

Most strikingly, aside from their language, these essays are almost exactly identical to newspaper articles I’ve read from the 1930s through the 1950s as well as women’s magazines through the mid-aughts, and, dare I say, the social media of today – the “divine feminine” of certain slices of the so-called wellness industry, and the “girl dinners” of TikTok.

The next essay, “Maxims for Wives,” takes on more of a knowing tone, like it’s being written with a wink. “Art thou marry’d?” it asks. “Alas poor Woman, thou hast parted with thy Liberty!” However, it does not stray from its main message. “[T]here are Ways and Means to make this Lord of thine the kindest and most agreeable Friend thou could’st have had.” It ends with the following advice: “Observe the Temper of your Husband: conform to it when it is good, and calmly submit where you think it otherwise, and you will have learnt the hardest Lesson in the Art of Pleasing.”

Physically, the books were once beautiful objects–they still are, although the leather is now worn and the ribbons frayed. It made me yearn for an updated version: a pocket-sized planner with good paper and a nice cover, with space for notes as well as helpful information. For instance, train timetables readily at hand (though maybe we could have a reliable train schedule to start), some book or movie recommendations, or essays on how not to abandon a journal two weeks into starting it. The most comforting aspect of these books, I’ve found, is that none of them have been completely filled.

The books can be viewed here at the MHS as part of the Price-Osgood-Valentine papers.

By Meg Szydlik, Visitor Services Coordinator

As this very rainy summer winds down and fall peeks its head out from around the corner, I find myself thinking wistfully about going to the beach. Growing up in NJ meant that summer was full of trips to the shore and the boardwalk. I formed a strong affinity for the beach. This wet and dreary summer has made taking a trip out to one of the many beaches around Boston difficult. Instead, I decided to take a virtual visit to some of the beach scenes that the MHS has in its archives. There are quite a few! It’s not quite as good as getting the sand between my toes, but it is delightful to see people from all different times enjoying themselves at the beach just like I do.

Heather Rockwood wrote a blog last year about some of Boston’s beaches but these are far from the only beaches in the MHS collections. One such example is the image of a bathing beach in the North End. The little boy in the foreground drew me in immediately with the mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks at the camera and the mostly empty beach in the background. He is not alone, though. On the other side of the beach, some more people are in view, including a group that looks like they are playing some kind of game and an older pair looking out at the water. However, instead of the bathing suits I grew up wearing, everyone is fully dressed in normal clothing. Despite that, this is very recognizable as a scene at a beach today, just as the crowded beach labeled as “probably in Boston area” from the same collection elicits a sense of salt air and giggling as children run through the crowds of people and umbrellas. Despite being from the 1910s, the image is familiar and nostalgic to me more than 100 years later.

Now that’s what I call beach!

Beach paintings are also a theme I recognize. I love the paintings of blue skies and oceans and charming beaches that show up in MHS collections, including a collection by Henry Adams. A watercolor of a beach in the Caribbean is especially interesting to me. It’s not terribly sophisticated but it captures the sense of peace that I always feel at the beach. Adams also created sketches of people and palm trees on the beach. It almost makes me want to dive in myself! The romance of sunny beaches in faraway lands is enticing and looking through these examples is delightful.

If you haven’t been to the beach in a while, looking through some of the MHS collections can be a great way to “go to the beach” virtually. I know I enjoyed flipping through all the beautiful pictures! If beaches are not your scene, though, the Beehive has explored plenty of other places, including the White Mountains, New Zealand, Europe, and cross-country trips. Explore our archives and blogs to plan your virtual vacation!