Introducing John Adams, Vice President

By Sara Georgini, The Adams Papers

“Huzza for the new World and farewell to the Old One,” John Adams wrote in late 1787, wrapping up a decade of diplomatic service in Europe and packing for his new farm, Peacefield. “For a Man who has been thirty Years rolling like a stone,” his recall was welcome news indeed. After completing several missions in Paris, The Hague, and London, Adams was eager to head home in order to witness the progress of the ratification of the U.S. Constitution and the establishment of the federal government. His last 28 months abroad, chronicled in the Adams Papers’ newest release, Volume 19 of the Papers of John Adams, were busy. The Massachusetts lawyer-turned-statesman secured American credit in Europe. He fought his way through the delicate etiquette of resigning his diplomatic commissions to Great Britain and the Netherlands. He wrote the second and third volumes of his landmark work on tripartite federalism, A Defence of the Constitutions of Government of the United States of America. With wife Abigail, he made plans for a quiet retirement in leafy Braintree. So long a citizen of the world, John Adams pondered his role in shaping the young nation’s progress. “Shall I feel, the Stings of Ambition, and the frosts of Neglect?” he wrote. “Shall I desire to go to Congress, or the General Court, and be a Fish out of Water? I Suppose so, because, other People have been so. but I dont believe So.”

Papers of John Adams, Volume 19

Volume 19, which stretches from February 1787 to May 1789, marks a transitional period in John Adams’ public career and personal life. Through the window of 341 documents, we watch a rich trove of stories unfold: the United States’ uneasy peace with Britain; the risky state of American credit abroad; the political fallout of popular uprisings like Shays’ Rebellion; the crafting of the federal Constitution; a surge in the British impressment of American sailors; and the monumental effort to form a cohesive federal government. Meanwhile, Adams settled into rural retirement with Abigail and watched the Constitution’s ratification evolve. His respite was cut short in April 1789. By volume’s end, John Adams returned to the adventure of public life, preparing to serve as America’s first vice president.

From Europe, Adams reported on a high tide of political crises. Piecing together Thomas Jefferson’s and the Marquis de Lafayette’s accounts of the reforms unspooling at the Assembly of Notables in 1787, and again at the convening of the Estates General two years later, Adams perceived France’s prerevolutionary peril. Adams, from his perch at No. 8 (now No. 9) Grosvenor Square, longed to go and see the “Illustrious” group. “I wish I could be a Sylph or a Gnome & flit away to Versailles on a sun-Beam—to hear your August Debates,” he wrote to Lafayette. To Adams’ mind, the late eighteenth century heralded both an age of revolutions and an age of constitutions that realigned the continent’s balance of power. “England will rise in Consideration and Power, and France will Fall, in the Eyes of all Europe,” he wrote.

John Adams portrait

John Adams spent his last summer in Europe traveling with family—including his first grandchild, William Steuben Smith—in rural Devonshire, compiling the second volume of his Defence of the Constitutions of Government of the United States of America, and mulling his legacy. He answered reference questions about the Revolution from scholars such as Philip Mazzei, Mercy Otis Warren, David Ramsay, and Reverend William Gordon. Retirement beckoned, but Adams was conflicted about trading the public stage for the solitude of Peacefield. Reflecting on his service, Adams claimed two wins: the ratification of the Moroccan-American Treaty of Peace and Friendship; and the progress of a proposed Portuguese-American Treaty of Amity and Commerce. The Adamses’ exit saddened friends like Jefferson, who wrote: “I shall now feel be-widowed.” Adams packed up his papers, including the letterbooks where he kept a close financial record of what it cost to be an American diplomat in Europe–a fascinating (and frugal!) report of expenditures that appears in the Appendix of Volume 19. He sold his chariot at The Hague. He closed up the London legation. “And now as We Say at Sea,” Adams wrote to Jefferson, “huzza for the new World and farewell to the Old One.”

S.E. Prospect

Home at last in June 1788, Adams briefly settled into the life of a gentleman scholar. Throughout the autumn, a stream of support for Adams’ political ascent materialized in the mail. Reverend Jeremy Belknap, later a founder of the Massachusetts Historical Society, and Dr. Benjamin Rush conveyed support for Adams as a contender for the vice presidency. On 6 April 1789, senators began counting votes from the Electoral College. George Washington was the unanimous choice for president. Adams, who received 34 out of 69 votes, was elected as the first vice president. Basking in ceremonial fanfare, Adams traveled to New York City. To the ever-candid Adams, the Federalists’ victory felt bittersweet. The 54-year-old statesman now faced an unprecedented task in shaping the largely undefined office of the vice presidency. Adams’ days became a whirlwind of meetings, visits, and reunions. He was flooded with requests for patronage. Many Americans hoped to earn jobs as port collectors, naval officers, or customs inspectors. Office seekers appealed to Adams’ Federalist views, Harvard College roots, or New England connections. Within the Adams Papers, these letters form a unique genre documenting patronage in early American politics. Moved by the sentiment but bound by the Constitution, Adams rejected many pleas. Early on, he staked out strict constitutional boundaries for the vice president’s powers. Looking out from his seat in a Senate increasingly riven by regional factions, Vice President John Adams wondered: What came next for the new nation?

Barbara Hillard Smith’s Diary, June 1918

By Lindsay Bina, Intern and Anna Clutterbuck-Cook, Reader Services

Today we return to the 1918 diary of Newton teenager Barbara Hillard Smith. You may read our introduction to the diary, and Barbara’s previous entries, here:

 

January | February | March | April

May | June | July | August

September | October | November | December

 

As regular readers of the Beehive know, we are following Barbara throughout 1918 with monthly blog posts that present Barbara’s daily life — going to school, seeing friends, playing basketball, and caring for family members — in the words she wrote a century ago. Here is Barbara’s June, day by day.

 

* * *

SAT. 1                         JUNE

Swimming. May [Fête]. Hot as the deuce

SUN. 2

Went to Winthrop

MON. 3

School. Babies

TUES. 4

School. Babies

WED. 5

School. Babies

THUR. 6

School. Swimming Exhibition

FRI. 7

School. Went up River and to Park.

SAT. 8

Babies. In town with Peg.

SUN. 9

Hung around. Commencement Vespers

MON. 10

School. Babies. Class Night at Lasell

TUES. 11

School. Sick? Mother with Cousin Bert

WED. 12

School. Babies

THUR. 13

School. Babies

FRI. 14

School. Babies

SAT. 15

In Town. Wellesley with Peg. Dance at Spuds

SUN. 16

Church. S. School. Mrs. Moody to dinner

MON. 17

School. Babies

TUES. 18

School. Babies. Got a boil.

WED. 19

School. Riding with Cousin Bert. Peg over Night.

THUR. 20

French Exam. Mother’s Birthday. Headache. Pegs. Almost Sick

FRI. 21

Latin Exam. Tennis at Pegs

SAT. 22

Cooked. Pegs. Party at Posies. Dancing at Garden

SUN. 23

Sunday School. Peg’s over night.

MON. 24

Geometry Exam. Cleaned Closet. Peg’s for eighth grade party.

TUES. 25

In town with Mrs. Dow. Cousin Alice’s for supper. Met Babe

WED. 26

In town to the Dr. Dill. K’s for supper. Study club affair

THUR. 27

DIn town. Worked with Platt.

FRI. 28

Cleaned. Dentist. Dinner with Platt. Saw him off.

SAT. 29

Shampoo. Aunt Mable’s. Said goodbye to Stewarts

SUN. 30

Church. Sunday School. Riding with [Gathaman’s]. Packed.

* * *

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 Barbara Hillard Smith collection may be found here.

 

 

 

The Joy of Bookplates

By Mary Yacovone, Senior Cataloger

One of the Society’s “hidden gems” is finally getting its day in the sun with the processing of three collections of bookplates. Known since 15th-century Germany, bookplates, sometimes called Ex Libris, have a long and interesting history. Initially a tool to identify the owner of a book and to prevent theft (or ensure safe return), bookplates evolved from mere identification into tiny works of art and reflections of the owner’s personality and aspirations.

Perhaps the most common bookplates to be found in our collection are armorial bookplates, featuring family coats of arms and mottoes, which became prevalent in bookplate design from an early date. These armorial designs display both “pride of ancestry and love of the display of aristocratic claims.” Also quite common are simple labels with the owner’s name, sometimes enclosed in a border of engraving or type ornaments. But around the turn of the last century, bookplate designs became much more creative and personal with designers creating plates that reflected the interests of their clients—homes, pets, hobbies, portraits. In this period, many of the bookplates never made it into books, but instead were collected and traded among fellow enthusiasts. The collecting and trading of bookplates reached its peak between the 1880s and 1950s, and most of the plates in the Society’s collection date from this era.

The earliest bookplate found in the Massachusetts Historical Society is from 1685, a plate bearing the inscription “Gulielmus Payne Me suis addidit MDC,LXXXV, ” but I wanted to feature some of the quirkier examples of the art that caught my eye when I was cataloging these collections.

Edward N. Crane chose for his bookplate a play on his last name.

 

 Reverend Carl E. Peterson chose this 1893 design by Bessie Pease Guttman, better known for her illustrations of children and babies than for cheeky devils reading witchcraft books.

 

The Lake Zurich Golf Club in Lake Zurich, Illinois, identified its (presumably) golf-related tomes with the image of a studious monk with his libations and clubs at the ready.

 

 Dr. Maximilian Lewson of New York selected a somewhat dramatic scene by bookplate designer Curt Szekessy to represent his profession.

 

Last, but by no means least, Everett Hosmer Barney of Springfield, who made his fortune as a Civil War arms producer and inventor of clamp-on roller and ice skates, somehow managed to incorporate his genealogy, inventions, hobbies, and a grinning alligator onto one small bookplate.

 

The bookplates shown here are all from the Ruby V. Elliot bookplate collection (http://balthazaar.masshist.org/cgi-bin/Pwebrecon.cgi?DB=local&BBID=114606), but there are plenty to treasures to be found in the Society’s own collection (http://balthazaar.masshist.org/cgi-bin/Pwebrecon.cgi?DB=local&BBID=208382), as well as the collection of armorial bookplates amassed by Charles R. Crane (http://balthazaar.masshist.org/cgi-bin/Pwebrecon.cgi?DB=local&BBID=208307).

Charles Cornish Pearson and the Great War, Part VII

By Susan Martin, Collections Services

This is the seventh and final post in a series about the wartime experience of Charles Cornish Pearson. Go back and read Part I, Part IIPart IIIPart IV, Part V, and Part VI for the full story.

We’ve come to the conclusion of the story of Sgt. Charles Cornish Pearson and his service with the 101st Machine Gun Battalion during World War I. We pick up after the Battle of Saint-Mihiel in September 1918, a success for the Allies, who forced the German line back and captured thousands of prisoners and hundreds of guns. Loved ones back in the States were thrilled by the news. Charles wrote to his Aunt Florence:

Suppose the news in the paper the past few weeks has cheered up the people at home a good deal. Certainly is quite a set back to the Hun but guess they need a lot of licking yet before they see the error of their ways in the proper light. One doesn’t appreciate the havoc & needless vandalism they have carried on until one has travelled over this part of the country & then one hasn’t taken into consideration the slavery the civilian population has had to undergo the past four years. They sure have a lot to pay for if they ever can.

 

Despite rumors that the war was winding down, Charles knew his “next trick” would come soon, and he was right. Less than a month after Saint-Mihiel, on 8 October 1918, his battalion moved to the outskirts of Verdun to prepare for its part in the brutal Meuse-Argonne Offensive. Philip S. Wainwright points out, in his History of the 101st Machine Gun Battalion, that from this position the men could see the infamous Mort-Homme, the site of terrible losses in the Battle of Verdun two years before. Another soldier described the feeling of being surrounded by “numberless French graves” (p. 124).

From 23-31 October, the guns of the 101st were used to support an attack by the 26th Yankee Division at the Bois de Brabant-sur-Meuse. According to Wainwright, it was the hardest fight the battalion had ever faced, with “continuous shell-fire” and “gas attacks every night” (p. 52). Charles agreed. On 1 November, after a gap of 17 days, he wrote to his parents from a reserve position at Marre, and his usual breezy style was muted.

One doesn’t feel much in the mood for letter writing. […] Things have been happening pretty swiftly lately and I feel pretty lucky to be able to scribble you a line & say O.K. […] Suppose I could write you a great deal about what we have been doing the past days but am only too glad to be out of it for the time beginning [sic] & just say that war is h–l & let it go at that.

 

He told his brother Bill, in a bemused tone, “I often wonder how they all missed me and the others. Fate I guess with good dodging is the answer.” In a letter to his sister Jean, he included some very vivid details of the battle—huddling in a trench as shells flew overhead, the spray of dirt as “whiz bangs” hit the hill opposite, the hardness of the ground. He also switched seamlessly to the present tense and second-person pronouns, making his story even more visceral: “You try to sleep saying to yourself well you are pretty safe unless they make a direct hit…” But as for the worst of his experiences, he explained, “I am getting so now I try to forget all about them as soon as they are over and sometimes that is no easy thing to do.”

Rumors of peace were coming in fast and furious now. As one soldier put it, “this war is all over but the shooting” (Wainwright, p. 131). Sure enough, at 11 a.m. on 11 November 1918, the armistice went into effect. This description of that moment doesn’t come from Charles, but from another soldier quoted by Wainwright:

Suddenly there is a queer silence—we don’t know what to think or do. It is true—but no one wants to shout or laugh. We just cannot realize the significance of it. Here we were, only a few moments ago, ready to jump into our cars and go out and shoot up the Boche, or get shot up. What will happen, and where are we going now? (p. 132)

 

Charles, like others, was both stunned and relieved that the war was over. He wrote to his parents the following day,It seems too good to be true & one wanders around in a daze. It sure has been h–l at times but guess it has been worth it all.” And he signed off another letter with the words: “Finis la Guerre.”

Charles looked forward to getting back into civilian clothes, rejoining the commercial paper business, and doing “as I damn please for awhile.” He even asked his sister if she knew any single girls who would be interested in a “perfectly harmless veteran.” But he would have a long and frustrating wait of several months before the 101st Machine Gun Battalion finally sailed for home in the Agamemnon on 31 March 1919. Charles was discharged on 29 April 1919.

Charles married Edith Irene Carrier in 1925. He died on 19 May 1973 at the age of 83, survived by his wife, three children, six grandchildren, and one great-granddaughter.

In spite of his humble protestations, Charles was a very compelling correspondent, and I hope you’ve enjoyed this deep dive into his papers as much as I have. I’ll finish with an excerpt from a letter to his sister, written from France after the war:

Glad you have appreciated or rather enjoyed my letters written over here. Am afraid you over exaggerate as I never was much of a hand at letter writing and my power of description etc is sadly lacking, still if they gave you some idea of what we have been doing over here why I am satisfied.

Spring Flowers

By Anna J. Clutterbuck-Cook, Reader Services

The month of May brought a sudden profusion of new growth to Boston’s green spaces this year: front yards, city parks, community gardens, and wild untamed lots all burst forth into a riot of green foliage and bright flowers.

To celebrate the season on this final day of May, I bring you the botanical watercolors of Louise Wheelwright Damon (1889-1973), who painted these vibrant pictures in 1956. I love the examples of amateur art in our collections; that the trained eye and hand of artists such as Susan Anne Livingston Ridley Sedgwick or John Singleton Copley exist in our collections alongside these lesser known — sometimes even unknown, unremarked upon — works that brought their creator pleasure, were saved by a family member, and ultimately donated to our institution where researchers of the future could discover and enjoy them.

“Spruce”

Westwood Lodge, 45 Clapboardtree Street, Westwood, Mass., 14 May 1956.

Graphics. Damon 004.

 

 

“Wild Crab Apple”

Westwood Lodge, 45 Clapboardtree Street, Westwood, Mass., 23 May 1956.

Graphics. Damon 009.

 

Untitled irises

Westwood Lodge, 45 Clapboardtree Street, Westwood, Mass., 8 June 1956.

Graphics. Damon 017.

 

Untitled queen anne’s lace

Westwood Lodge, 45 Clapboardtree Street, Westwood, Mass., 23 May 1956.

Graphics. Damon 030.

 

The Louse Wheelwright Damon botanical drawings are available to access in the MHS reading room or at a distance through the purchase of PDF or TIFF reproductions. Please check out Visiting the Library and Reproduction Services page for more detail.

Anna Peabody Bellow’s Travel Diary

By Alex Kouroriez, Intern

Anna Peabody Bellow’s 1864 travel diary documents her voyage to England and France as a young and wealthy New England young woman during the Civil War. Included among her paragraph-a-day entries are watercolor and pencil sketches, perspective as a tourist in Europe, and a reminder that some things never change.

The Paris Bellows describes is under the Haussmann renovation and many famous landmarks make cameos in her diary.  She records sights such as the Champs Elysees, the Madeline, Notre Dame, and the Pantheon, which she described her visit as “a little uncomfortable visiting the tombs underneath.” I had a similar experience visiting the Pantheon crypt a few years ago, but seeing the resting place of legendary French writers was worth the chill. 

Though a tourist in the 1800s, Bellows’ account of Parisian museum going could be a post on TripAdvisor.  In an entry, Anna Peabody Bellows and her brother-in-law Charles are turned away from a museum without a ticket, “However by some hocus pocus Charles soon got in of course.”  I’m amused that charming one’s way into museums is not recent practice, and Bellow’s dry humor regarding museums does not stop there. At the Louvre’s sculpture gallery her blasé tone is incredible: “These much disappointed. Venus of Milo really the only thing we appreciate.”

Bellows and her entourage vacationed in Europe during the Civil War with little reference to current events in her diary full of social calls, travel itineraries, and statements of health.  I wonder her reason for traveling to Europe in the midst of a war and if she felt more anxiety for her country beyond the page. While the daily entries are short, they capture the essence of the day in the lists of monuments visited and names of the people with whom she dined.  In the lists of sight-seeing, she includes sketches to prompt her memory.


 For example, she meets “women with very funny hats on” as they wear traditional Lyonnais dress for a summer festival.

As a high school student preparing to take a gap year to study in Tours, France, I feel encouraged to keep my own travel journal for the sake of being fashionable in the 1860s.  Inspired by Bellows’ diaries, I would like to capture my surroundings not only through words but also in my amateur watercolor illustrations. I would like to research into the reason for the Bellow’s family trip during the Civil War, but in the meantime, I make the connection: Bellows left the Boston she knew well to see France, as I will this fall. While I’m not leaving the country during a war, Bellows and I have looked to Europe for a brief escape, in my case, one year of studying language for pleasure before jumping into four years of academics.


All in all, this journal is a delight for its pointed observations, illustrations, and addition to the account of Americans in Paris. If you are traveling this summer visit the library to check out this diary or other travel dairies at the MHS for inspiration on journal keeping.

 

 

 

Immigration and Trade in Early 20th-Century Worcester

By Brendan Kieran, Reader Services

The Rockwood Hoar Papers at the MHS document the life and career of Rockwood Hoar, a Worcester, Massachusetts lawyer and politician who lived from 1855 to 1906. Hoar was the son of United States Senator George Frisbie Hoar, and he served in Congress himself toward the end of his life. Among Hoar’s papers are his legal files which are arranged alphabetically by client name, including immigrants from various countries. I looked into these files and focused specifically on the file relating to Ideem Fatool,* a Worcester resident who was, according to a September 1905 Hoar letter (a copy of which is in the collection), Syrian. Through my reading of these materials I got a sense of the research possibilities these papers offer for anyone studying the experiences of immigrants in late 19th- and early 20th-century Massachusetts.

Copy of a 6 September 1905 letter from Rockwood Hoar to George A. Carmichael of the New York, New Haven and Hartford Railroad

 

Ideem Fatool lived at 31 Norfolk Street in Worcester and worked in “rugs” in 1905, according to the 1905 Worcester Directory (p. 238; Fatool’s first name is listed as “Saleem” in this directory). His file relates to a claim he made with the New York, New Haven and Hartford Railroad after a trunk of goods he shipped was lost along the way to its destination in Pennsylvania. In an undated typescript copy of a letter addressed to the railroad company, Fatool lists items in the lost shipment along with their values. He lists the total value of the goods as $157. His letter is followed by correspondence between September 1905 and March 1906, primarily involving Fatool’s lawyers and railroad representatives. Hoar writes to railroad agent George A. Carmichael about the issue in September. Carmichael responds the following week indicating that the railroad would require more information, and writes again in October to state that he is passing the dispute along to Boston freight claim agent T. C. Downing.

In November and February letters, Downing follows up with additional details relating to the status of the claim, and writes in his February letter that, without additional evidence, they would not accept Fatool’s statement relating to the value of the goods as accurate. Hoar sends information about the case to another lawyer, Charles F. Aldrich, in a February letter, and a Downing letter sent the following month is addressed to Aldrich. Downing writes that the company believed Fatool claimed the goods to be worth five times more than they actually were, and in a xenophobic comment, attributes this to the fact that Fatool was an immigrant and implies that he was likely looking for money from the company.

 

Rockwood Hoar to George A. Carmichael, 30 October 1905.

 

The last two items in the folder are February and March 1906 letters written from Aldrich to Hoar. These letters contain updates relating to the case. In both letters, Aldrich writes that Fatool had left the country, but the lawyer doesn’t seem certain of Fatool’s destination. In his 27 February 1906 letter, he writes that “Fatool has gone back to Europe,” and in his 6 March 1906 letter, he writes that “Fatool has gone back to the interior of his native country, which is Syria or Armenia, I am not sure which.” In his final letter, Aldrich notes that he is still attempting to find out more from the company about the issue, but it seems that he had hit a roadblock.

The materials in this file provide some glimpses into the Worcester of the period and the ways that immigrants helped to shape it. The list of goods in Fatool’s shipment includes wool, perfume soap, a silk spread cover, a quilt, drawnwork, and other items. Additionally, the folder includes a card for Orfalea Bros. & Co. in Worcester. The card lists laces, drawn work, Turkish rugs, and kimonas as some of the items they sold. The card also lists various cities and countries in the Middle East, Asia, and Europe from which they imported items. These items provide brief but insightful evidence of international trade networks of the period and invite further research into the roles Syrian immigrants to the United States played within these networks and within the Worcester community.

On a side note, I took to the Internet to see if I could find out anything else about Fatool, and interestingly, according to a blog post by Chet Williamson of Jazz Riffing on a Lost Worcester, a Saleem Fatool was the father of Nick Fatool, a noted drummer born in Millbury, Massachusetts who played with Benny Goodman and other acts in the mid-20th century. Williamson references Millbury birth records that give Syria as the country of origin for Nick Fatool’s parents. A little more digging would be required to confirm whether or not this Saleem Fatool was the same individual as the person I write about in this post, so I can only speculate at this point, but this was an exciting find, and the fact that I also play the drums made it particularly exciting for me.

If you are interested in looking at the Rockwood Hoar Papers, feel free to view them here in the MHS library. Most of the collection is stored offsite, so library staff recommends requesting the materials through Portal1791 at least two business days before your intended visit, but they are otherwise open and available for research!

*****

*Fatool’s first and last names are spelled multiple ways by the correspondents in the file. The name “Ideem Fatool” is used here, as it is the one that is written on the folder and used in the collection guide. However, as noted in the text of this post, the spelling “Saleem,” which does not appear among the papers in Hoar’s file, is used in the 1905 Worcester Directory and in the sources cited by Chet Williamson in the Jazz Riffing on a Lost Worcester blog post, which makes me wonder if “Saleem Fatool” is the correct spelling of Fatool’s name.

 

 

 

 

Odd Accounts : Ship Sketches and More in the Smith Family Papers

By Daniel Tobias Hinchen, Reader Services

As many of my colleagues have pointed out in the past here on the Beehive, one of the joys of working with the manuscript collections at the MHS is finding something unexcpected when going through a box of material.

Recently, I tried to answer a reference question from a remote researcher that deal with a ship captain from the early 19th century. As it turned out, I made a bit of a mistake and provided information on the wrong person. However, it turned out to be a happy accident because of what I ended up finding, and which may have otherwise escaped my notice.

The Smith family papers are a single-box collection of manuscripts that contains several volumes of Capt. William Smith of Boston. Each of these volumes is tucked inside its own folder with a brief title that indicates what the volume contains: “Account book,” “Letterbook,” “Log of Mary.” However, within these volumes there are some surprises. For example, in a letterbook dated 1812, not only are there manuscript copies of several pieces of correspondence, but also several pages of accounts and ship inventories, and even a couple of poems.

Still, it is not so unusual to find something like poetry in a letterbook maintained by a man who would have been at sea for weeks or months at a time.

A standard account book page detailing a ship’s inventory.


To me, the real treasure is inside a thin volume simply labeled “Accounts, 1812-17.” While there are many pages of ship inventories, accounts, and invoices, as the title so faithfully indicates, much less expected are the myriad hand-drawn images of various ships done with wonderful detail.

“The Spanish Letter of Marque la Catalina, of 10 guns, Lorenze Joze Gonzales. Formerly the Brig Erin of Norfolk Virg. William Smith Master.”

 

Elsewhere in the account book is another picture of the above ship where it is simply identified as the Brig Erin of Norfolk, mastered by William Smith.

Another drawing shows the Brig Mary, the log of which is also housed in the Smith family papers.

Mary of Boston.”

 

Independence, 74 Guns [Commodore] William Bainbridge.”


In addition to these standalone images there is a series of three drawings that detail the encounter between the United States Frigate Constitution and H. M. S. Guerriere on 19 August 1812.

“The United States Frigate Constitution, Isaac Hull, Esq, Commander, bearing down upon and preparing to engage the British Frigate Le Gurriere, Capt. Dacres, August 19, 1812.”


The story of this naval battle early in the War of 1812 is well-known and well-documented with many tributes in text and in image available, so I will not attempt to rehash that here, except to say that this battle is where the U. S. ship received its nickname, “Old Ironsides.” [See below for some websites that recount the battle.]

But the drawings themselves are worth a look.

“In 15 minutes the Constitution cuts away the Gurriere’s mizen mast.”


“In 43 minutes the Gurriere totally dismasted, when she fires her Lee gun and surrenders.”

 

Finally, the account-keeper even included a couple of rebuses in this volume. Longtime visitors to the Beehive may remember a post here a few years ago about rebuses, written by MHS alum Kittle Evenson. [“Cryptic Communique…“] After you re-read Kittle’s entry, you can come back here and see if you can figure out one of the word puzzles. As of publication, I have yet to crack it!

 

As always, if you see something here of interest and want to view it in person, consider Visiting the Library!


Further Reading

– “USS Constitution in the War of 1812.” Naval History and Heritage Command. Accessed 22 May 2018 at https://www.history.navy.mil/browse-by-topic/ships/uss-constitution-americas-ship-of-state/history.html.

– USS Constitution Museum, “Sea Dog: Guerriere the Terrier,” USS Constitution Museum website. Accessed 23 May 2018 at https://ussconstitutionmuseum.org/2012/08/01/sea-dog-guerriere-terrier/

A Wedding at Windsor

By Gwen Fries, Adams Papers

On May 19th, HRH Prince Harry and Ms. Meghan Markle will wed at St. George’s Chapel in Windsor Castle. The couple has decided to update several royal wedding rituals, but their choice of venue is steeped in tradition. On March 10, 1863, Prince Harry’s great-great-great-grandfather, Prince Edward VII, married Princess Alexandra of Denmark in the same chapel. As with so many historical events, an Adams was there to witness and record it.

 

Charles Francis Adams was serving as U.S. minister to the Court of St. James’s when his invitation to the heir apparent’s wedding arrived. With his son Charles Francis 2d fighting in the American Civil War, the elder Adams had more pressing concerns on his mind. But, as evidenced by the dwindling number of documents crossing his desk, the British were absorbed by the union of their future king and queen, and it was Adams’s diplomatic obligation to attend. (To read more about CFA’s diplomatic career, see his 1861–1865 diaries that have been digitized by the MHS and are available here.)

With five days left before the wedding, Charles Francis took his wife, Abigail, to Garrard’s to see the diamond jewelry prepared for Princess Alexandra. Adams recorded in his diary that employees told him the crowds of oglers “had been constant since nine in the morning.” Three days before the nuptials, Charles Francis took his youngest son, Brooks, to observe the public’s reception of Alexandra herself. The streets of London were mobbed with Brits hoping to catch a glimpse of the young bride. Though he and his son (uncomfortably wedged in the mass of humanity) waited more than an hour to witness the event, “the banners of the Livery companies and the quaint dresses of some of the servants and postilions constituted all the display.” Princess Alexandra and Prince Edward processed in a carriage surrounded by horsemen and escorting coaches. “The thing itself was not worth the trouble of seeing,” Adams reflected, “but the city of London in a convulsion of enthusiasm about a girl of eighteen of whom nobody yet knows anything good or bad, fully repaid my fatigue.” On the night before the wedding, Charles Francis and Brooks again ventured out into the cold to observe the men arranging the “illuminations,” or fireworks, prepared for the occasion.

Arrival of Princess Alexandra from Denmark for her marriage to the Prince of Wales, 1863: the Princess passing the lines of Volunteers in Hyde Park c.1863 by Robert Dudley / Royal Collection Trust / © Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2018

Adams and his wife woke early on the day of the ceremony, braved heavy fog and the crowds at Paddington Station and boarded the train to Windsor Castle. Once inside, the Adamses took their designated place at the north side of the altar and waited for the ceremony to begin.

“The scene was very impressive,” Adams wrote of the chapel space. “Here amidst the emblems of a remote age were assembled all there is of rank and official reputation in the kingdom. Here the greatest dignitaries of the Church performed the solemn service which waited a young couple destined under Providence to continue the line of monarchy for another age.”

The Marriage of the Prince of Wales with Princess Alexandra of Denmark, Windsor, 10 March 1863 by William Powell Frith / Royal Collection Trust / © Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2018

Adams noted how young the bride and groom were—Edward was 21 and Alexandra was 18—and mentioned that the couple “are supposed to be attached,” which he recognized as a rarity for royal unions. Charles Francis was impressed by their calm demeanor, especially young Alexandra’s as he looked down upon her and her eight bridesmaids kneeling at the altar. The Archbishop of Canterbury performed the half-hour service, and the newlyweds left the chapel to Beethoven’s “Hallelujah” chorus. Guests were then ushered into St. George’s Hall for refreshments.

“With the surroundings of the royal family, the household and the Court resplendent with gay attire for the first time the conception dawned upon me of the political importance of all the paraphernalia that surround a throne,” he wrote. “Satin and lace and diamonds and gold embroidery all contribute to make a pageant which knits the wealth of the land into the texture of the crown itself. It is a ponderous machine enough, but may-be necessary.”

Shedding Light on Boston’s Baseball Past

By Rakashi Chand, Reader Services

Baseball season is in full swing and this year marks the 100th anniversary of the 1918 World Series, a series that became a part of city lore ever since the “Curse of the Bambino” was cast on Boston. Baseball has a long history in Boston which precedes the Red Sox, the Curse of the Bambino, and even Fenway Park.

Bostonians have enjoyed playing baseball since the 1850s and in 1871 Boston acquired a team in the newly formed National Association of Professional Base Ball Players. Boston manager William Henry (Harry) Wright helped organize the National Association and went on to lead the Boston Red Stockings to four consecutive pennants. In 1874, Wright even took his unstoppable Red Stockings to England in hopes of popularizing baseball worldwide. By 1876 the National Association was replaced by the National League, a change which provided players more stability as they were bound to specific clubs.

Boston Braves baseball card
Boston Braves Baseball Cards, circa 1949
Boston Brave baseball card
Boston Braves Baseball Cards, circa 1949

(from the Boston Braves baseball collection, compiled by Richard O. Jones. Massachusetts Historical Society)

By the turn of the 20th century Boston had not one but two teams: the National League had the Boston Braves (formerly the Red Stockings, Red Caps, and Beaneaters), and the upstart American League had the Boston Americans. Each team had their own playing field in the city. The Braves played on the South End Grounds, moving in 1915 to Braves Field on Commonwealth Avenue (current site of Boston University’s Nickerson Field). After 82 years in Boston, 1871-1952, the Braves moved to Milwaukee in 1953, and then to Atlanta in 1966. The Boston Americans played at the Huntington Avenue Baseball Grounds – located just over the railroad tracks from the South End Grounds – from 1901 to 1911, and was the site of the first modern World Series in 1903 when the Boston Americans played the Pittsburgh Pirates. In 1908, the moniker for Boston’s American League team was officially changed to the Red Sox, and in 1912 the team relocated to the newly-built Fenway Park.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cy Young and other baseball players at the Huntington Avenue Grounds

(from the Sweet family glass plate negatives, 1897-1911. Massachusetts Historical Society)

The above image of the Huntington Avenue Grounds was also featured on the MHS website as the July 2017 Object of the Month. Click on the link to see more information about the grounds, as well as suggestions for further reading about Boston’s baseball past.

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More interesting than the Boston Americans or the Boston Braves, though, is another local team that most have never heard of…The Boston Bloomers!

Women’s baseball teams, called Bloomer Teams due to the preferred “bloomer” style of dress which allowed for easier play, were popular all across the country between 1890 and 1930. These women traveled the country, wore pants, and received pay as professional players, providing a level of independence that was uncommon in a time when such “priveleges” were often not extended to women.

The Boston Bloomers, [photograph] [ca.1890s-1910s].
Bloomer teams began in colleges in New England and New York, then spread across the country as hundred of women started playing baseball. The teams often consisted of seven women and two men who barnstormed the country playing local amateur, semi-pro, and minor league men’s teams. Sadly, the Bloomer Teams lost popularity with the onset of World War I and the pioneering women of baseball were soon forgotten. Women such as Boston Bloomer Maud Nelson – a famous pitcher who went on to form and manage her own team in 1911, the Western Bloomer Girls – are only now gaining recognition for their contributions to the game.

If you are interested in learning more about the role of women in America’s Pastime, consider joining us next month for The All-American Girls: Women in Professional Baseball, a panel discussion led by Gordon Edes, offical historian of the Boston Red Sox. Click the link to find out more the event and how to register.

When men across the country entered the draft for World War II, Philip Wrigley foudned the All-American Girls Professional Basebeall League in hopes of keeping baseball alive. The league started in 1943 and lasted until 1954. In 1992, the league was made famous by the feature film “A League of Their Own,” and lead many to believe that this was the first time women took the field professionally. In truth, they were following int he footsteps of their talented foremothers, the Bloomer Girls.

To find out what else the MHS holds relating the nation’s game, you can search our online catalog ABIGAIL, and when you find something interesting, consider Visiting the Library to see it in the reading room!


Sources

–  Allen, Erin, “A League of Their Own,” Library of Congress Blog. Access 16 May 2018 at https://blogs.loc.gov/loc/2013/04/a-league-of-their-own/.

– Gregorich, Barbara, “My Darling Clementine,” Originally published in the May 2, 1996 issue of New City, accessed 16 May 2018 at http://www.barbaragregorich.com/index.php?subsub=%204.

– Official Website of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League Players Association, accessed 16 May 2018 at http://www.aagpbl.org/index.cfm/pages/league/12/league-history.

– Library of Congress, “Topics in Chronicling America – Bloomer Girls: All-girls novelty act sweeps country playing baseball,” accessed 16 May 2018 at https://www.loc.gov/rr/news/topics/bloomergirls.html