by Rakashi Chand, Reading Room Supervisor

In the aftermath of Valentine’s Day during the 250^th anniversary of the American Revolution, we invite you to celebrate some of the most romantic figures of the Revolutionary era.  

The Couple  

In the turbulent years when a young America was struggling to define itself, two young people met in a bookstore. Her name was Lucy Flucker, just sixteen, the daughter of a wealthy Loyalist family whose father ranked as the third highest British official in Massachusetts. His name was Henry Knox, a Boston bookseller who devoured volumes, was outgoing, warm, endlessly curious, and remarkably intelligent. 

By every measure of class, politics, and expectation, she was not meant to fall in love with Henry Knox. Yet she did, and with the courage that would come to mirror the revolution reshaping the world around them. This silhouette at the Massachusetts Historical Society is the only known contemporary image of Lucy Flucker Knox. 

The Marriage 

Their affection grew in the corners of a city on the brink of war and soon they married, defying her family and the life laid out for her. Although Lucy and Henry are well documented and significant figures in the formation of our nation, for a while there was considerable confusion about where and even when they were married.  

For a deeper look at the confusion surrounding their wedding, read these two posts from J. L. Bell’s Boston1775 blog: “When did Henry Knox and Luck Flucker marry?” and “Where did Lucy Flucker and Henry Knox marry?” Bell notes that the couple married at King’s Chapel in Boston. Luckily, the MHS houses the Records of King’s Chapel, and a dive into the archives shows the recording of their marriage on June 23, 1774.  Lucy’s sister Hannah and half sister Sallie attended the wedding, but her parents were notably absent.

The War Begins

A year later the Battles of Lexington and Concord forced the young couple to slip out of Boston for their safety. Lucy took refuge in Worcester, Mass., never to see her family again, while Henry joined the militia besieging the city. He directed fortifications using knowledge he had gained from his books, and in his first surviving letter to Lucy, dated July 6, 1775, he described meeting George Washington, who was impressed by his engineering skill. 

Not long after, Henry embarked on his now famous feat, transporting 59 captured cannons from Fort Ticonderoga over 300 winter miles by ox drawn sled to Boston. Washington positioned the guns above Boston and forced the British to evacuate. Henry, only twenty-five, became commander of the Continental Army’s artillery and would rise to major general before the war’s end.  

As the American Revolution ignited, the nation and the newlyweds came of age together. Forced apart by battle lines and duty, Henry and Lucy kept their bond alive through letters that pulsed with longing, fear, devotion, and hope. With Henry often away, Lucy also grew into a woman forged by independence and responsibility, writing him on 23 August 1777 that “I hope you will not consider yourself as commander in chief of your own house.”

The Love Letters 

The wartime correspondence between Henry and Lucy Knox offers a vivid, intimate window into both the American Revolution and the emotional world of a couple separated by conflict. Over the course of the Revolution, they exchanged more than 150 letters. 

Below are a few excerpts that illustrate the tone and content of their letters to one another, demonstrating their commitment to each other during a remarkable time. 

This rich letter from Henry notes both the sadness of separation and the hardships encountered in transporting the artillery from Fort Ticonderoga, though is not without humor.

“My dearest Companion, It is now twelve days since I’ve had the least opportunity of writing to her who I value more than life itself. . . .Had I the power to transport myself to you, how eagerly rapid would be my flight. It makes me smile to think how I should look, like a tennis ball bow’ld down.”

Henry Knox to Lucy Flucker Knox, Ft. George, NY, 17 December 1775  

Their letters continue to gush with love and sadness at separation.

“My lovely & dearest friend, Those people who love, as you & I do, never ought to part. It is with the greatest anxiety that I am forc’d to date my letter at this distance from my love at a time too when I thought to have been happily in [your] Arms.” 

Henry Knox to Lucy Flucker Knox, Albany, NY, 5 January 1776

“I should long before this have indulged myself in the pleasure of writing to him who is allways in my thoughts, whose image is deeply imprinted on my heart and whom I love too much for my peace, but the fear that the language of a tender wife might appear ridiculous to an impartial reader (should it miscarry) has restrain’d me.

Lucy Flucker Knox to Henry Knox, Boston, MA, 29 or 30 April, 1776

Born in a bookstore, tested by war, and carried in ink, Henry and Lucy’s love came of age alongside a nation fighting to define itself. 

Further Reading:

The Henry Knox Papers, on microform at the MHS, owned by the Gilder Lehrman Institute, include the correspondence between Henry and Lucy Knox

Henry Knox Papers II collection

Henry Knox Papers III collection

Hamilton, Phillip. The Revolutionary War Lives and Letters of Lucy and Henry Knox. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2017. 

Stuart, Nancy Rubin. Defiant Brides: The Untold Story of Two Revolutionary Era Women and the Radical Men They Married. Boston: Beacon Press, 2013. 

By Abba Connally, Library Resident

It is the season for many of us to begin making and implementing our 2026 New Year’s Resolutions. Considering the average person today spends 47 hours a week on their phone, I’m sure many others are also considering a resolution to spend less time on their mobile devices. As I look into going more “analog,” I’ve been searching the past to find enjoyable ways to pass the time. One of the examples that I have seen for this is self-paced learning. Some people online call this a “personal curriculum,” and they are meant to be a way to enjoy education for fulfillment rather than work.

As I work on my current project at the MHS, a subject guide on 19th-century intellectual culture in Beacon Hill, I was amazed to run into a self-guided program of study made for women that feels incredibly ahead of its time, not only in its audience, but in the method of instruction. The Society to Encourage Studies at Home, founded in 1873 by Anna Eliot Ticknor, was the first correspondence school in America and functioned as a network of women teaching other women by mail. The purpose was surprisingly conservative; the goal of providing secondary education was not to further women’s careers but to offer them more fulfillment from the home.

The MHS collection houses a variety of materials from the Society to Encourage Studies at Home, including its offered courses, lending library catalog, and a pamphlet entitled “Health,” which gives advice for a healthy and fulfilled life. Looking at these items has given me ideas as to some ways that I can spend my time learning and engaging in hobbies when I’m not at work.

In “Health,” there is a section on how to achieve what may today be called a work-life balance. It discusses how women can balance sedentary work, manual work, exercise, and learning, and argues that all are necessary for balanced wellness.  Something that was particularly notable to me was how the author emphasized the importance of life-long education, stating that many women fall out of the habit and “sink into depression. . . . and may even become insane. They are mentally starved to death.” They also warn against learning too much and advise hobbies for those who are struggling to find balance.

As someone who is both a full-time student and works a lot of library desk shifts, I find that I spend a lot of my time sitting. If, like me, this is what your workday looks like, this pamphlet advises that “for those whose work is sedentary, a study of botany or geology is excellent, as it calls them from their houses, and gives a pleasant interest to their walks” Although the weather is cold right now, I may try to get a head start and do some natural science reading for my spring walks.

Looking at the Society to Encourage Studies at Home has helped me build out more of my “personal curriculum” instead of scrolling on social media. I am always reminded of how amazing it is to have such a wealth of information and educational materials constantly within reach, but finding quiet structured time to build mindfulness and find balance is something I am excited to work on in the new year.  In addition to the advice found here, I’m linking items in our collection that relate to tech-free hobbies, and of course, botany and geology.

by Susan Martin, Senior Processing Archivist

I’d like to introduce you to a young woman named Henrietta, whose diaries form part of the Stout family papers here at the MHS. This post will be the first in a multi-part series.

Henrietta Maria Schroeder, or “Yetta,” was born in New York on October 9, 1875. Her father, Francis Schroeder, had been a diplomat, ambassador to Sweden, and superintendent of the Astor Library. Francis had had two children with his first wife, Caroline (née Seaton), and four with his second wife, Lucy (née Langdon). Henrietta was Lucy’s third child.

The Stout collection includes four of Henrietta’s diaries, two kept as a young teenager and two kept in her twenties. The first starts on June 27, 1889, when she was thirteen and on a trip through Europe with her mother and three siblings, Langdon, Lucy, and Harry. I was immediately drawn to the diaries because of how lively, creative, and sometimes laugh-out-loud funny they are. I think Henrietta will sound familiar to anyone who knows (or is) a thirteen-year-old. To give you a taste of her style, here’s an entry she wrote about the ocean voyage to Europe.

In the first place I was ill: not actively so, but I was ill. Days and days passed which seemed like years, but still I was ill, at last Mamma called the doctor, and such a doctor, […] and he gave me some lime water, & some awful stuff that tasted just like pepper and vinegar, but he cured me just the same! […] He is the most “blasted English don cher know” thing I ever saw, and I burst out laughing every time I see him. He waxes his mustache into spears about 4 inches long.

In addition to Henrietta’s entertaining run-on sentences and stream-of-consciousness anecdotes, the diaries also contain her original sketches and objects she added as illustrations or keepsakes. Here’s a partial list of items she pasted or pinned to the pages: letters, photographs, ticket stubs, menus, flowers, feathers, leaves, ribbons, wax seals, a piece of lead from a pencil-making factory, a piece of stone from Chester Cathedral, and a pouch of sand from the shores of Loch Katrine. You can see how overstuffed the volume is.

As you can imagine, volumes like this are a preservation nightmare for archivists and conservators. Organic and acidic material will stain and degrade the pages. In most cases, all we have the time and the resources to do is stabilize the volume and prevent any further deterioration by housing it in an appropriate container and storing it in our climate-controlled stacks. We also often interleave the pages with tissue to protect them.

But the very same thing that makes these diaries tricky from a preservation standpoint also makes them interesting from a historical standpoint. The inserted material is fully integrated into the narrative, adding context and (literal!) texture to Henrietta’s stories. I love how free-wheeling and genre-bending it all is, this first diary in particular. Henrietta has taken a volume that cost her, she says, just 28 cents and turned it into a unique, interesting, and very fun historical document.

I look forward to telling you more about Henrietta in future Beehive posts.