by Heather Rockwood, Communications Manager

While perusing the MHS’s Rumford collection for juicy nuggets about the count’s ill-fated, later-life love story (described in Part 2), as well as connecting the dots between a Bavarian Count and baking powder manufactured in Rhode Island (Part 1), I also felt the love a person can feel for the tactile experience of going through archival documents. The joy of reading their words, even the ones in French (which I can’t read), looking at the stamps once used, smelling that old paper smell, and always finding surprises.

During my Rumford search, the first thing I noticed was the count’s and his daughter’s beautiful penmanship. I still write lists and short notes by hand, but mostly everything I communicate is online, and my penmanship lacks the beauty trained in the past. Thus, I’m in awe when I see a document by a person who had to write by hand and did it so beautifully, including their signature. The other items that made me smile were the leftover wax on a few of the letters, a stamp with George Washington on it, and a barely noticeable watermark on one sheet of paper.

One of the more surprising pieces that turned up was a sheet of paper folded into a little square. No other sheet of paper was folded like this in the files, so it stood out right away. Curious, I carefully unfolded it, and I’m glad I was so careful, because it contained hair! On the outside of the square was written, “Hair of My own 9 Dec Concord 1848,” but the words didn’t mean anything to me until I almost jumped out of my chair seeing the hair inside.

With my experience reading the archival letters between the Adamses, which were from the same time frame as the Rumford letters, I expected these letters to be in English, but many were in French. Not being able to read the language put me at a disadvantage, but nevertheless, I took some pictures of the French language documents, and I’m glad I did, for something I had not noticed in one of them now led to an interesting discovery—it was a birth certificate for Charles Francis Robert Lefebvre de Rumford, our Count Rumford’s son. At the top of the document was a handwritten note in English, “Birth of the natural Son of Count Rumford.” Charles was born in Passy, France, in 1813, one year before Count Rumford died at age sixty-one. Charles’s mother was Victoire Joseph Lefebvre (1786–1853), and she was twenty-seven when she gave birth to him. However, he is not mentioned in most online biographies of Count Rumford, such as his Wikipedia page. In fact, I only found full mention of him on genealogy websites and the Rumford Family Collection, held by the American Academy of Arts and Sciences (AAAS). So please give a moment of thanks to genealogists!

The AAAS’s page documented that Charles was illegitimate but carried the “de Rumford” name, as his father Count Rumford bequested it. He used “de Rumford” in the style of a French courtesy title, as “Count” is not a noble title in France, and because the count’s daughter, Sarah Thompson, Countess of Rumford, was his legitimate heir. In the following names, you may notice other courtesy titles towards the ends of names. Charles married Marie Louise Pauline Both de Tauzia and they had two children, Amédée Joseph Lefebvre de Rumford and Jeanne Marie Louise Sarah Lefebvre de Rumford. Amédée had two children, Marie Lefebvre de Rumford and Charles Lefebvre de Rumford. Marie had a daughter, Jacqueline de Freslon, who married her uncle Charles in 1923. Charles died in 1951, the last of the de Rumford line.

I hope you enjoyed this surprising journey that began with the Rumford files in the MHS’s George E. Ellis Papers. I found so much to savor while looking through it and afterward, sifting through my many photographs! It kept drawing me back to it.

by Rakashi Chand, Reading Room Supervisor

Today is ‘Talk like a Pirate Day’ which I adore because my kids and I are big fans of the ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ film franchise as well as any pirate-themed movie, restaurant, or minigolf course. But, as a historian, I feel an impulse to find pirate speak in the archives of the Massachusetts Historical Society. There is a robust record of the ‘last and dying words’ of pirates, or pyrates, in Boston, Massachusetts. Boston was once known as the ‘Port where Pirates hang,’ so Boston may be the one place where—if you are a pirate—you should perhaps not speak like one, because from what I found in the archives, we cracked down on piracy with the same efficacy as we now order Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. 

Let’s look at a few items from the collections that have captured the actual words of convicted pirates—at least we know they are the real deal!  

To begin, look at The Last Words of S Tully. Who was executed for piracy, at South Boston, December 10. 1812.  

In this broadside, Tully is recorded as saying, 

“As a man and criminal now going out of this world, I do think it my duty to acknowledge that I have been guilty of taking, and assisting to take, the property which is mentioned in the first indictment; but the murder, which was charged in the second indictment, I do not see that I am any ways guilty of, although it was plead so hard against me, and I have reason to believe was the means of my being condemned…”  

Next, is the 1704 Proclamation by Thomas Povey Esq. Lieutenant Governour, and Commander in Chief, for the time being, of Her Majesties Province of Massachusetts-Bay in New-England. 

“WHEREAS John Quelch, late Commander of the Briganteen Charles, and Company to her belonging, Viz. John Lambert, John Miller, John Clifford, John Dorothy, James Parrot, Charles James, William Whiting, John Pitman, John Templeton, Benjamin Perkins, William Wiles, Richard Laurance, Erasmus Peterson, John King, Charles King, Isaac Johnson, Nicholas Lawson. Daniel Chevalle, John Way, Thomas Farrington, Matthew Primer, Anthony Holding, William Rayner, John Quittance, John Harwood, William Jones, Denis Carter, Nicholas Richarson, James Austin, James Pattison, Joseph Hutnot, George Peirse, George Norton, Gabriel Davis, John Breck, John Carter, Paul Giddins, Nicholas Dunbar, Richard Thurbar, Daniel Chuley, and others ; Have lately Imported a considerable Quantity of Gold dult, and some Bar and Coin’d Gold, which they are Violently Suspected to have gotten and obtained, by Felony and Piracy, from some of Her Majesties Friends and Allies, and have Imbezeld and Shared the lane among themselves, without any Adjudication or Condemnation thereof, to be lawful Prize…” 

“..And all her Majesties Subjects, and others, are hereby strictly forbiden to entertain, harbour or conceal any of the laid persons, or their Treasure: Or to convey away, or in any manner further the escape of any of them, on pain of being proceeded against with utmost Severity of Laws as accessories and partakers with them in their Crime.” 

It sounds like the authorities were very good at pirate talk, perhaps more than the pirates themselves. The Proclamation of May 1704 seemed to have worked, even though Quelch had already escaped once. 

In June the Arraignment, Tryal and Condemnation of Capt. John Quelch And Others of his Company takes place under Joesph Dudley, who is now the “Captain-General and Commander in chief and over her Majesty’s Province of the Massachusetts-Bay, in New England, in America, &c.” 

“Captain John Quelch, And Others in his Company, &c. For Sundry Piracies, Robberies and Murder, Committed upon the Subjects of the King of Portugal, Her Majesty’s Allie, on the Coast of Brazil” 

(My thought: Wait! Brazil? Wow, Puritan New England will hunt you down even if you are stirring up trouble in Brazil!) 

So, what did Capt. Welch have to say for himself?  

“‘This Court is now ready to hear what you have to offer for Yourself.’

Quelch ‘My Council informs me, that he hath sundry matters of the Law to offer to Your Excellency on my behalf.’“

Not as pirate-like as I had hoped, but a well thought out response. 

Quelch then goes on to counter-question the witnesses and the evidence and is informed by the Court that he is not able to counter-question the evidence. Quelch is smart, logical and uses his lawyers like a modern crime-boss. (Grabbing my popcorn for more.) 

Finally, the last page of the Quelch Trial lists the names, ages, and places of birth of each pirate in Quelch’s crew. This is a fascinating look at who joined Quelch, men coming from different countries and ranging in age from adventurous young fifteen-year-olds to stalwart fifty-year-olds. The opportunity offered in Piracy appealed to so many to free themselves from their station in life. 

And lastly let’s look at the June 30, 1704, broadside, An Account of the Behaviors and Last Dying SPEECHES of the Six Pirates, that were executed on Chrles River, Boston side, on Fryday June 30^th 1704 Viz. 

The six pirates were Capt. John Quelch, John Lambert, Christopher Scudamore, John Miller, Erasmus Peterson, and Peter Roach.

Of Capt. John Quelch I have a newfound respect. 

“The last words he spoke to one of the Ministers at his going up to the Stage, were,  I am not afraid of death, I am not afraid of the Gallows, but I am afraid of what follows; I am afraid of a Great God, and a Judgement to Come. But he afterwards seemed to brave it out too much against that fear; also when on Stage first he pulled off his Hat, and bowed to the Spectators, and not Concerned, nor behaving himself so much like a Dying man as some would have done.” 

At last we have our pirate talk! Whatever you may take that to mean, other than mere repentance, it was a warning to all pirates ‘Beware in New-England!’  

Enjoy a day of Speaking like a Pirate and keep our many pirate testimonies and writings in your thoughts! Search our online catalog, Abigail, for the subject heading ‘pirate’ and you too will find many items to research! 

by Heather Rockwood, Communications Manager

In Part 1: How did a middle-class Massachusetts boy become Count Rumford? I described how Count Rumford received his title and how he was connected to Rumford Baking Powder. Now, in Part 2, let’s look Count Rumford’s items in the MHS’s George E. Ellis Papers.

The Count Rumford papers in the George E. Ellis Papers consist mainly of correspondence between Count Rumford’s adult daughter, Sarah Thompson (Countess Rumford), and James Fowle Baldwin (1782–1862), a civil engineer and Harvard classmate of Count Rumford. According to the finding aid for the Baldwin Family Papers at the Winterthur Library, Baldwin named his last born son George Rumford. The Rumford-Baldwin letters are sweet and friendly and mostly copies of Sarah’s own letters that she kept. She addresses Baldwin as “Dear Friend” and asks after his wife and family, then asks for favors. Several letters inquire about a house he’s building, then later when it’s finished, her wish to visit and see the house. The letters show a sincere and lovely friendship between the writers.

The item I found most interesting, as I do love good historical gossip, was the handwritten account in a half-empty journal titled Sketches of the Late Count Rumford. Countess Sarah recounted a period of her father’s life and transcribed letters he had written her before his death in 1814. She extolls his virtues and mentions several times his mindfulness in having a daughter, but also describes his marriage to a French woman in 1804, which followed the death of his first wife, Sarah, in 1792. Starting in 1799, after leaving Bavaria, Rumford split his time between France and England, establishing the Royal Institution of Great Britain and continuing his scientific research. While in France, he met, courted, and later married Marie-Ann Lavoisier, the widow of the French chemist Antoine Lavoisier.

Rumford ‘s letters to his daughter Sarah, describe his new love interest in France, which Sarah includes in her Sketches:

“…a widow without children…about my own age—has a handsome fortune, at her own disposal, enjoys a most respectable reputation, keeps a good house, which is frequented by all the first Philosophers and men of eminence in science and literature of the age, or rather, of Paris. And what is more than all the rest is goodness itself.

The excerpted letters continue: “She is very clever… she has been very handsome in her day, even now at forty-six or forty-eight, not bad—of a middling size, but rather on en bon point than thin. She has a great deal of vivacity, and writes incomparably well.”

Several of the loose letters father and daughter wrote to each other were in French, which I do not know, so I relied on Sarah’s translated English versions in the book.

Lavoisier loved entertaining, dining, and company above all other activities, and Rumford was the opposite. He took pleasure in research and science and had little taste for company and dining. He preferred plain food and did not relish the joys of French cuisine. The couple divorced after three years.

Rumford wrote to Sarah on 12 April 1807: “I have the misfortune to be married to one of the most imperious, tyrannical, unfeeling woman, that ever existed, and whose perseverance in pursuing an object is equil to her profound cunning and wickedness in framing it.” Sarah noted right after this, “What a contrast between former descriptions!” Further in the same letter, her father wrote, “Do you preserve my letters, you will perceive a very different account I give of this woman, for lady I cannot call her.”

If you speak French, or just want a little more of this fun historical gossip, I recommend visiting the MHS to read these first and second-hand documents. Keep your eye out for Count Rumford, Rumford Baking Powder, Rumford, NH, Rumford, RI, and the Rumford Professor at Harvard University, Part 3: This Collection Keeps Drawing Me In

by Heather Rockwood, Communications Manager

Growing up close to the Rhode Island border in Massachusetts, I was familiar with Rumford Baking Powder, created by Eben Horsford (1818–1893), Rumford Professor at Harvard University, and how it was the most popular product manufactured in Rumford, RI. So, when I came across “Count Rumford” in the MHS archives under the George E. Ellis Papers, I connected the two and thought they were related. I was wrong, but also right.  

Count Rumford, or Benjamin Thompson Jr., was born in Woburn, Massachusetts, on 26 March 1753. He went to school in Woburn and Byfield and attended Harvard classes, apprenticed to a doctor for a short time and to a merchant. During his apprenticeships he gained refinement and an interest in science. In 1772, he married Sarah Rolfe, a rich and well-connected widow. Her late husband left her property in Rumford, New Hampshire (now Concord), but after marrying, the couple moved to Portsmouth and had a daughter two years later, whom they named Sarah.

When the American Revolution started, Thompson was a loyalist, and although his wife’s connections got him an appointment as a major in the New Hampshire militia, he acted as a British intelligence agent and recruiter for the British army. His activities became known, and a mob attacked his house. He escaped, abandoning his wife and child. For the rest of the war, he led the king’s American Dragoon’s on Long Island and conducted scientific experiments on gunpowder. The results of his work were published in 1781, in Philosophical Transactions, solidifying his early scientific acclaim. When the war ended in 1783, he left the United States, never to return. In England, King George III knighted him, and in 1785 he moved to Bavaria where he undertook projects for Prince-elector Charles Theodore, including cultivating the potato and creating the Englischer Garten park that still exists today. He also continued his scientific research, for which he was made an Imperial Count, Reichsgraf von Rumford, named for the New Hampshire town of his marriage.

Count Rumford spent eleven years in Bavaria conducting scientific research, the most important of which was a contentious theory that heat was not caloric but caused by motion. His research on this topic helped to later create the law of the conservation of energy in the 19th century.

So, how was Count Rumford connected to Rumford Baking Powder? He endowed the Rumford Chair and Lectureship on the Application of Science to the Useful Arts at Harvard, under which Eben Horsford was employed. Eben Horsford also built statues to Leif Erikson, but that’s a different blog.

What happened to Count Rumford’s wife and daughter? And where did he go after those eleven years in Bavaria? Stay tuned for part 2, where we connect this story to the MHS’s archival documents.

Count Rumford, Rumford Baking Powder, Rumford, NH, Rumford, RI, and the Rumford Professor at Harvard University, Part 2: He Loves Her, He Hates Her

by Brandon McGrath-Neely, Library Assistant

This is Part Two of a three-part series on architecture at the MHS. You can find Part One here.

If you’ve ever done research at the Massachusetts Historical Society, you’ve spent an afternoon (or ten) in the reading room, officially known as Ellis Hall. Your eyes, when not glued to the materials you were consulting, may have wandered around the room or through the windows to get a break from cramped, crosswritten cursive. But did you know that this room is a historical resource of its own? And much easier on the eyes!

The current MHS building on Boylston Street was completed in 1899 by Edmund March Wheelwright in the Georgian Revival Style. Originating in the 18^th century and revived as the 20^th century approached, Georgian Revival relied heavily on the Classical details of the Greeks and Romans and emphasized symmetry. Looking around Ellis Hall, you can see these two characteristics on display.

Standing in the center of the room, one can see how each wall is framed by partial columns, just sticking out from the wall at regular intervals. These kind-of-columns are known as pilasters, a decorative element which create a feeling of structural strength and emphasize the wall itself. These pilasters are fluted, meaning they have deep grooves recalling the columns of ancient Greece or Rome.

As they reach toward the ceiling, they end with fancy, curled tops. These tops are called capitals, and they have a variety of forms – some are simple and give the feeling of strength, while others have plant shapes and designs to feel light and natural. The curly capitals of the reading room are Ionic capitals, a middle ground that emphasizes both structural integrity and artistic precision. If the curls remind you of scrolls, they’re doing their job! (Remember, you’re in a historical society, after all.)

Keep looking upwards and spot the area where the walls meet the ceiling. There you’ll find an entablature, or a set of decorative bands. In classical architecture, entablatures were decorative sections on a lintel, or the long beam that went across columns and supported the roof.

An entablature typically has three sections, all visible in Ellis Hall. On the bottom is an architrave, which is decorated in the reading room with bead and reel and egg and dart patterns, both of which were used in the Greek and Roman periods.  Following the architrave is the frieze, which can be decorated with moldings, paintings, or sculptures, but here it is rather simple and undecorated. This works well for the modern MHS, which uses the frieze to attach speakers and cameras during public programming.  Finally, the entablature concludes with a cornice, or the portion that sticks forward into the room and reaches up to meet the ceiling. The cornice in Ellis Hall is decorated with larger bead and reel, and egg and dart patterns.

Above these patterns are numerous thick wooden blocks. These are known as dentils, literally meaning “little teeth,” since they look like little teeth sticking out of the wall. (Cool! Gross!) Dentils were commonly used in Ionic Greek architecture and contribute to the Classical feeling of the reading room. When ancient architects were building massive stone temples to outshine the earlier wooden constructions, they used dentils to represent the original timbers used in roof construction. So, when you look at those unassuming little blocks, remember that you’re looking at architects using wood to remind us of architects who used stone to remind us of architects who used wood. As with everything at the MHS, there are layers upon layers of history!

While Wheelwright used symmetry and Classical details to emphasize the philosophical, thoughtful nature of Greece and Rome, he also aimed to emphasize the enlightened, national feelings evoked by more recent constructions. The dark wood paneling of the room, the ornamented fireplace, and the door to the Orientation Room, all recall the Georgian Colonial style common across the homes of the wealthy during the Revolutionary period.

One key example can be found above the door to the orientation room. There, you’ll see another entablature, with the image of a bald eagle on its frieze and an egg and dart cornice. Above it, two pieces of wood curve towards each other, with a little box in the middle. This is a Georgian remix of a Greek feature, the pediment. On Greek structures, you may recall a triangular area between the lintel (decorated with an entablature) and the sloping roof. This area is called the pediment, and it is often recreated at smaller scales over doors or windows to make them seem fancier or more significant.

In the Georgian style, these pediments are often “broken” or separated in the middle. To get even fancier, these broken pediments were curved to look more natural, resembling the graceful necks of swans. As such, these pediments are called swan’s neck pediments, and you will see them all over colonial mansions if you keep your eye out. Many American swan’s neck pediments feature an ornament in the middle, such as a family crest or a bust, though ours are undecorated. These design features recall the earliest days of the American project, and the meticulously planned appearance of the homes of our founders. After all, if the papers of Jefferson and Adams are going to live here, shouldn’t it be a delightful place to stay?

These are only a few details about the architecture of our favorite reading room. There is more to be seen in design above the mantel, for example, or the mysterious lizard living in our fireplace. But this brief overview will have to do for now. The next time you’re doing research at the MHS, take a moment to look at the room around you and consider why it looks the way it does. In Ellis Hall, the Georgian Revival blends Classical details and Georgian embellishments to make you feel thoughtful, enlightened, and curious. Architects like Wheelwright hide small secrets and reminders in every detail of the places we inhabit.  Now that you know their names, can you hear what they’re saying?

by Rakashi Chand, Reading Room Supervisor

Can I tell you a story? A story that will transport you to the court of Tsar Nicholas II and the Meiji Regime, gilded carriages, opulent palaces, and a war between superpowers, that ends in Portsmouth, NH, USA.

The Russo-Japanese War (1904–1905) was primarily fought over Russia’s expansionist policies in East Asia, with major battles occurring both at sea and on land. Japan emerged victorious over Russia, marking the first time an Asian power defeated a European power in modern history, setting the stage for Japan’s future imperial ambitions and exacerbating internal political unrest growing in Russia. President Roosevelt made it his personal mission to bring peace to the two empires, eager for America to take its place as a world power player.

Getting both sides to the negotiating table at the neutral location of Portsmouth Naval Yard, straddled between New Hampshire and Maine, proved to be a daunting task. Roosevelt hand selected George von Lengerke Meyer, a Bostonian serving as the US Ambassador to Italy, for the very special mission of negotiating that peace, and reassigned him to the court of Nicholas II, Emperor of Russia. The George von Lengerke Meyer Papers detail the Russo-Japanese War from the Russian perspective and Meyer’s extensive peace negotiations with the Russian Tsar and government.

Roosevelt writes to Meyer on December 26, 1904, from the White House (Received by Meyer on January 20, 1905, in Italy)

“Dear George,

This letter is naturally to be treated entirely confidential, as I wish to write to you freely. I desire to send you as ambassador to St. Peterburg. My present intention is, as you know, only to keep you for a year as Ambassador, but there is nothing certain about this inasmuch as no man can tell what contingencies will arise in the future, but at present the position in which I need you is that of Ambassador at St. Petersburg. St. Petersburg is at this moment, and bids fair to continue to be for at least a year, the most important post in the diplomatic service, from the standpoint if work to be done, and you come in the category of public servants who desire to do public work, as distinguished from those whose desire is merely to occupy public place – a class for whom I have no particular respect. I wish in St. Petersburg a man who, while able to do all the social work, able to entertain and to meet the Russians and his fellow-diplomats on equal terms, able to do all the necessary plush business – business which is indispensable can do in addition, the really vital and important things. I want a man who will be able to keep us closely informed, on his own initiative of everything we ought to know, who will be, as an Ambassador ought to be, our chief source of information about Japan and the war – about the Russian feeling as to the continuance of the war, as to the relationship between Russia and Germany and France, as to the real moaning of the movement for so-called internal reforms, as to the condition of the army, as to what forces can and will be used in Manchuria next summer, and so forth and so forth.”

Arriving in St. Peterburg on April 7, 1905, Meyer sought an audience with the Emperor of Russia, Nicholas II and after being presented at court, Meyer wrote to Roosevelt on 31/13^th April 1905:

“Mr. Delcasse assured me, as far as France is concerned, that there was nothing official in this talk of peace and that the two warring nations had not asked for it or agreed to enter into pourparlers.

Wednesday, April 5th, I left for St. Petersburg, arriving the afternoon of the 7th. The next day I called on Count Lamdorff, Minister of Foreign Affairs, presented a copy of my letter of Credence and asked for formal audience with the Tsar, after exchanging the usual courtesies. The audience took place yesterday afternoon at Tsarskoo Selo in the Alexander Palace, with much formality and state. I was driven from the station I a gilded coach with six white horses. My first presentation was to the Dowager Empress, (Sister of the Queen of England), and ten minutes later I was received by the Emperor and Empress. I had hoped I would see the Emperor alone, as the English Ambassador had told me that the young Empress was influencing her husband to continue the war and gain a victory.

I delivered your instructions as cabled by Adee on March 27th, and she drew nearer and never took her eyes off the Tsar. When I pronounced the words “at a proper season, if the two waring nations are willing, the President would gladly use his impartial good offices towards the realization of an honorable and lasting peace, alike advantageous to the parties and beneficial to the world,” His majesty looked embarrassed and then said: “I am very glad to hear it.” but instantly turned the conversation on to another subject, never alluding it to it again.“

Convincing the Emperor and, more importantly, the Empress, was not going to be easy.

On June 12/1, 1905, Meyer writes to Mr. J. Morris Meredith: “They are tremendously shocked by their naval defeat here, but are not even yet talking peace. What they are demanding through the press is a call of the promised Representative body, in order that they may get an expression of opinion from the people direct whether the war should continue or not.” It would take a lot of convincing on Meyer’s part to make the Emperor and Empress realize the effort to continue the war was futile, but in the end he succeeded. Japan was optimistic that Russia would acquiesce based in the expense and political unrest the war was causing.

Roosevelt writes to Meyer on June 19, 1905:

“In my efforts I have been actuated by an earnest desire to stop bloodshed, not merely in the interest of humanity at large and in the interest of other countries, but especially in the interest of the Russian people for I like them and wish them well.

You know Lamsdorff and I do not. If you think it worthwhile, tell either him or the Czar the substance of what I have said, or show them all or parts of this letter. You are welcome to do it. But use your own discretion absolutely in this matter.

Russia has not created a favorable impression here by the appearance of quibbling that there has been over both the selection of the place and over the power of the plenipotentiaries whom Russia will appoint. It would be far better if she would give the impression of frankness, openness and sincerity.”

The envoys of Imperial Japan and Imperial Russia arrived in Portsmouth on August 9, and the Treaty of Portsmouth was signed on September 5, 1905. Roosevelt won the Nobel Peace prize for his success in bringing both sides to the negotiating table. On September 1, 1905, Roosevelt finally writes to Meyer, as the negotiations are settled in Portsmouth:

“Dear George,

  It seems to me that one of the crucial points in securing the peace was what you finally did in your conversation with the Czar when you persuaded him that the southern half of Saghalin would have to be surrendered to the Japanese. Of course while I was cabling to you messages for the Czar I was also doing what I could with the Japanese Government…

(and concludes the letter with)

Well, apparently we have carried the thing safely through, but it has not always been plain sailing.

Faithfully yours,

Theodore Roosevelt”

Dive further into the Meyer Papers to be transported to Imperial Russia on the brink of chaos and experience the effort to bring a peaceful end to the Russo-Japanese war.

Portsmouth is a beautiful city by the sea, featuring cobblestone streets lined with gas lanterns and the historic homes of sea captains and merchants. Whenever I visit Portsmouth, I look out at the ocean and imagine what a sight it would have been to see the arrival of vessels from Imperial Russia and Imperial Japan in August of 1905.

by Brandon McGrath-Neely, Library Assistant

Having recently moved to Boston from a much smaller, younger town, I have been amazed at how many beautiful buildings the city has to offer. In less than half a mile, you can walk from the medieval-looking wooden home of Paul Revere to the modern concrete goliath, Boston City Hall. Along the way, you’ll see a half-dozen architectural styles and movements sitting side by side.

While this gives the city a beautiful character, blending the old with the new, it can be difficult to interpret your surroundings without prior knowledge about the city’s development or an architectural vocabulary. Wanting to more fully engage with the city’s built environment, I consulted the MHS reference library. Before this research, I had the bare minimum knowledge of architecture – I could tell a floor from a wall, and that was about it.

Like any good trip to the Historical Society, my project started in ABIGAIL, our online catalog. I used keywords to find items that might fit: “architecture,” “buildings in Boston,” and “Boston city planning” all returned some interesting results, but I knew I could refine my search further. I began searching by subject, which I often recommend to researchers wanting to quickly see what materials the MHS has on a given topic. By trying different phrases, I was able to generate a list of relevant materials very quickly.

I found that the MHS has plenty of published works on architecture. Some were broad, and I used them to familiarize myself with the most basic ideas and historical movements in American architecture. Others were specific, providing me with the vocabulary for several types of brick patterns and roof shapes. My personal favorites were handbooks, designed to help readers identify architectural styles at a glance. Written for architecture students and laypeople alike, they provided excellent summaries of important movements and their key features.

When I left Ellis Hall at the end of each day, I was excited to start recognizing different elements in the buildings I saw. On the short walk to the nearest train station, you leave the Georgian Revival MHS, pass the pointed arches of the Gothic-style Saint Clement Eucharistic Shrine, and turn just before reaching the Romanesque Boston Architectural College’s dark, rough stone exterior.

Researchers at the MHS are often working towards some form of published project: a book, a thesis, or a family tree. But the materials here are just as useful for those who are simply interested in learning about the world around us. I found the research valuable because as I walked through Boston, I could look at a building and consider how and why it made me feel a certain way. It gave me a sense of familiarity and even ownership over a city with lifetimes of history and culture, and I felt a sense of pride and excitement that I had learned it on my own.

In future blog posts, I’ll be sharing some of what I’ve learned by considering parts of the architecture at the MHS itself. The details of Ellis Hall and the design of our building’s exterior are both pleasing to look at and work together to tell the story and values of the MHS through architectural design. Follow along, and if you get the chance to visit in person, see it for yourself! As I learned through this research, the MHS is not just a space for graduate students and professional researchers – it’s a place for anyone to read and think about the things that matter to them.

Interested in architecture? Here’s what I used to start learning:

• A-B-C of Architecture – by Frank E. Wallis (NA200 .W25) This is a concise and effective introduction to the major movements in European architectural history. Wallis packs quite a bit in this brief handbook, and does a good job of connecting engineering, aesthetics, and history. For those looking for a more narrative style, this is a good place to start.
• Identifying American Architecture: A Pictorial Guide to Styles and Terms, 1600-1945 – by John J. Blumenson (NA705 .B55). Of all the books I read for this project, this was the one I found most useful. Blumenson selects a handful of photos and roughly a dozen key features for each architectural movement in the United States, and outlines what makes them distinct. If you’re interested in identifying the buildings around you, this is the best place to start.
• Early American Houses: and a Glossary of Colonial Architecture Terms – by Norman Morrison Isham (REF. NA7206 .I7) This is a helpful book for those interested in early colonial architecture from a construction and material perspective. The essays focus directly on specific architectural elements from colonial structures, and the glossary is a very good resource for developing your architectural vocabulary.
• Boston After Bulfinch: An Account of its Architecture 1800-1900 – by Walter Harrington Kilham (REF. NA735.B7 K5) This book has a narrative feel, guiding readers from the Federalist period of Boston architecture to the “Steel Frame” period. This book is especially useful for naming the important architects of each movement, and helpfully lists some of the buildings they constructed. This is an excellent all-around text for beginners (like me).
• The A.I.A. Guide to Boston – by Michael and Susan Southworth (REF. NA735.B7 S68 1984) This guide was written by a married couple who worked as city planners and architects in Boston, hired by the city to work on preservation projects. This book contains information about hundreds of locations and landmarks, as well as self-guided tours based on different themes. If there’s an area or aspect of the city you find yourself especially interested in, this would be a great choice.
• Architecture, Boston – By the Boston Society of Architects (REF. NA735.B7 B67 1976 Whereas most of the books recommended here are organized by architectural style or period, this book seeks to consider the architecture of Boston, neighborhood by neighborhood. Filled with dozens of high-quality photos, this is an excellent resource for those interested in Boston’s contemporary appearance and character.
• Great Georgian Houses of America – by the Architects’ Emergency Committee (NA707 .A7) This is a well-soruced, clear display of the wide variety in styles, materials, and approaches to the Georgian style in the late 18^th century. There’s little commentary throughout, so it isn’t a useful resource for introductory readers, but those with an existing vocabulary and understanding of the Georgian style may find this book useful in finding examples of the style.

For my own research, I worked primarily with published materials in our collection. Though I consulted some manuscript items that related to architecture, I found that the published materials were more useful for gaining a basic knowledge. The published materials can sometimes be overshadowed by our collection of presidential autographs or beautiful portraits, but these books and pamphlets are just as useful for research. Don’t miss out!

by Rakashi Chand, Reading Room Supervisor

The campaign trail is heating up and the candidates are crisscrossing the country trying to win over voters. During a similar moment in history the elected Vice President suddenly had to step in as POTUS. On the subsequent campaign trail, he was almost killed in a 20mph collision with a trolley. The bizarre incident can be found in the Papers of Winthrop Murray Crane at the MHS.

After McKinley’s assassination on 14 September 1901, the nation reeled, and 42-year-old Theodore Roosevelt suddenly became President of the United States. Roosevelt hit the campaign trail in 1902 to win over the nation as President and campaign for his party platform before the congressional elections.

Roosevelt arrived in Bangor, Maine on August 27th with an entourage of more than fifty newspaper reporters, photographers, telegraphers, politicians and secret servicemen. He made his way through Vermont and crossed into Mass. where he met Sen. Henry Cabot Lodge. In Springfield Mass., Roosevelt delivered a speech defending America’s actions in the Philippines, specifically targeted to persuade the Mass. opponents of those actions. On the morning of September 3rd, Roosevelt gave a ten-minute speech on citizenship in Dalton, and was joined by Mass. Gov. Winthrop Murray Crane as they headed to Pittsfield, Mass.

Roosevelt’s handsome pullman carriage, the Mayflower, was waiting for him in Stockbridge. Crane and Roosevelt rode in his open carriage to Pittsfield, accompanied by Roosevelt’s secretary, George Cortelyou, and Secret Service Agent William Craig. The four horses were driven by Crane’s friend, Deputy Sheriff David Pratt, with mounted troops on each side. Roosevelt would have had the opportunity to enjoy some Berkshire scenery knowing that the press and the public were becoming more enamored with each speech and stop along the way.

At 9:35 AM a trolley became visible to the carriage that remained on the right of the trolley tracks, which seemed inconsequential as the Pittsfield Street Railway Company had been informed the regular schedule would be interrupted during the President’s visit, but the motormen running the trolley had been told to run as long as it was still possible. Why was this trolley on the track? Apparently, it was full of members of the Pittsfield Country Club who asked the motorman, Euclid Madden, to get to the Country Club before the President in a desire to receive him. Clearly there was a lack of communication. But what happened next was inexplicable. Pratt suddenly moved the carriage to the left, across the trolley track, perhaps, it is thought, for shade. Pratt’s peripheral view would have been obstructed by the mounted troops on each side of the carriage.

Roosevelt was confident the trolley would stop to let the Presidential caravan pass; Crane was not so confident and began waving his arms at Madden and the impending trolley. Madden tried everything he could to stop the trolley, including the brakes and shutting off power, but nothing could stop the trolley from crashing into the carriage. Madden contended afterwards that the trolley was only moving at eight miles per hour, although others felt it must have been moving at twenty miles per hour.

Witnesses describe a shocking silence after the collision. Both Crane and Cortelyou grabbed the president upon impact. Roosevelt hit the side door of the carriage, resulting in cuts, swelling, and bruising on his face and lower left leg—a leg injury that would continue to bother him for years. Cortelyou hurt his nose and head, but Crane was miraculously unscathed. Pratt was thrown to the front of the trolley, but with little injury. Craig, known as “Secret Service Man Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to the President”, got up from his seat to shield the president and was thrown directly in front of the trolley as it charged forward. Craig was the first Secret Service agent who died protecting the President of the United States.

As the crowd rushed forward, the president and the governor held each other in shock. Roosevelt then became irate and perhaps uttered a profanity, but quickly gathered himself and assured the public that he was unhurt. He arranged to have Craig’s body moved to the nearby home of Mrs. A. B. Stevens and take Pratt to a hospital. The president, the governor and the president’s secretary were examined by doctors for thirty minutes in Mrs. Stevens’ house before limping out to the cheer of the crowds upon seeing Roosevelt intact, to which he responded “Don’t cheer. Don’t. One of our party lies dead inside.” (1)

Roosevelt knew the news of the accident could create rumors and potentially chaos in government, and asked reporters to spread word that the POTUS was unhurt and would continue onwards. Against all advice, Roosevelt pressed on and intended to make all scheduled stops that day, even with his bruised face, cut lip and black eye, lest the impact would be felt from Wall Street to foreign relations (2), although he gave no speeches.

Winthrop Murray Crane, owner of Crane and Co., went on to have great influence on American politics. Crane settled the 1902 three-day Teamsters strike in two hours, prompting Roosevelt to call upon him to mediate the anthracite coal strike, and once again he settled the strike successfully. Roosevelt offered Crane several positions in his administration, but Crane refused them all until George Frisbee Hoar’s seat became available in the US Senate. Crane served as senator from 1904 until 1913.

PS: This was not the first, nor most meaningful, connection Roosevelt had with Mass.; Roosevelt attended Harvard College, and at the age of nineteen met the cousin of Richard Saltonstall, a fellow undergraduate, named Alice Hathaway Lee. (3) Roosevelt was madly in love with the beautiful, cheery Alice of Chestnut Hill, and vehemently sought her hand in marriage. Alice and Theodore married on his twenty-second birthday, October 27, 1880 in Brookline, Mass. Alice died four years later on February 14, 1884, two days after giving birth to their daughter. Roosevelt was so heartbroken he never spoke of her again, not even to their daughter, Alice.

1. President Theodore Roosevelt’s Brush with Death in 1902. Theodore Roosevelt Association Journal. https://www.theodorerooseveltcenter.org/Research/Digital- Library/Record?libID=o308081. Theodore Roosevelt Digital Library. Dickinson State University.
2. Roosevelt, Theodore. Theodore Roosevelt Papers: Series 2: Letterpress Copybooks, -1916; Vol. 36, 1902, July 29-Oct. 25. – October 25, 1902, 1902. Manuscript/Mixed Material. https://www.loc.gov/item/mss382990364/.
3. For more on Alice Lee Hathaway Roosevelt: TR Center – Roosevelt, Alice Hathaway Lee (theodorerooseveltcenter.org)

By Adam Mestyan, Duke University and 2018-2019 MHS Andrew W. Mellon Fellow

These images are part of a series of 24 photographs of the October 1925 bombing of Damascus found at the MHS in the papers of Sheldon Leavitt Crosby,* a professional American diplomat in the interwar period. He was chargé d’affaires at the U.S. embassy in Istanbul from 1924-1930 and Acting American High Commissioner in Turkey in 1925. It is very possible that he acquired this series of astonishing photos from Damascus while acting in this capacity.

Damaged building in Damascus
Photograph by Luigi Stironi, circa 1925

Smoke rises over Damascus
Photograph by Luigi Stironi, circa 1925

Historians have recently begun to discuss the “greater war,” positing that the period of the First World War extended beyond 1914-1918. Indeed, after the Ottoman armistice, conflict and occupation continued in the Ottoman provinces well into the 1920s. In Damascus, the famous Emir Faisal (in fact, a general military governor appointed by the British) could not stop local notables and his own soldiers from proclaiming an independent kingdom with Faisal as king in March 1920. This desperate move was a pre-emptive strike against the implementation of the League of Nations mandates handed down at the San Remo conference in April of 1920, which gave France the mandate over Syria. It also came just a few weeks after the still-existing Ottoman assembly proclaimed their National Pact in Istanbul. Despite negotiations, the French government decided to put an end to the Syrian kingdom, and French soldiers occupied Damascus and other inland cities in July of 1920. Faisal was expelled from Syria and departed for the United Kingdom. But the Syrians stayed. From 1920 on, small groups engaged in guerilla actions and rebellions throughout the region.

In the summer of 1925, the series of events known as “The Great Revolt” in English scholarship and “The Great Syrian Revolution” in Arabic took place. In July, the mountain Druze population revolted against the French troops. Next, Damascus and Hama rose up against the French. There was also internal pillage and cross-ethnic-religious violence. On 18 October, the French army deployed tanks and airplanes around Damascus in retaliation. From six in the evening until noon the next day the French intermittently shelled the city. They did not warn the civilian population. The exact number of casualties is still debated but several hundreds died, including women and children. Although resistance continued in Ghouta (interestingly, also the last rebel-held location around Damascus in 2018) and the north, the massacre caused the recall of the French general in charge and a new Civil High Commissioner arrived to finally create a civil government.

Street scene in Damascus
Photograph by Luigi Stironi, circa 1925

Rubble in Damascus street
Photograph by Luigi Stironi, circa 1925

The photographs collected by Sheldon Crosby depict the destruction and casualties in Damascus and were taken by Luigi Stironi, an Italian in residence in Damascus active between 1921 and 1933. Some of these photos are clearly intended to evoke horror in the viewer and many were published in European newspapers and distributed as private propaganda. The American businessman Charles Richard Crane describes in his diary how a friend showed him very similar (if not the very same) images in Jerusalem in 1926. According to Daniel Neep’s Occupying Syria under the French Mandate, Stironi claimed in 1926 that his images were bought by an American diplomat. Although many of these photographs are well-known, it is rare to find such a comprehensive set among private papers. Is it possible that Crosby was the American diplomat to whom Stironi referred?  

Soldiers in front of the Pharmacy building
Photograph by Luigi Stironi, circa 1925

Soldiers in front of the French Bank of Syria
Photograph by Luigi Stironi, circa 1925

Selected literature:

Gelvin, James L. Divided Loyalties: Nationalism and Mass Politics in Syria at the Close of Empire. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998.

Khoury, Philip S. Syria and the French Mandate: The Politics of Arab Nationalism, 1920-1945. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1987.

Neep, Daniel. Occupying Syria under the French Mandate: Insurgency, Space and State Formation.  Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012.

Provence, Michael. The Last Ottoman Generation and the Making of the Modern Middle East. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017.

The Routledge Handbook of the History of the Middle East Mandates. London: Routledge/Taylor & Francis Group, 2015.

MHS catalog records:

*The photographs were removed from the Sheldon Leavitt Crosby papers, and are now shelved and cataloged as the Sheldon Leavitt Crosby photographs.

Sheldon Leavitt Crosby photographs

Sheldon Leavitt Crosby papers