By Susan Martin, Collections Services

The MHS recently acquired this letter by Mary Ware Hall about spurs belonging to famed historian Francis Parkman, possibly worn during his expedition on the Oregon Trail in 1846. To catalog the letter, I had to identify its writer, recipient, date, and subject. But not only is the letter undated, it didn’t come to us as part of a larger collection, so I had no context to help me. Fortunately, researching the people and the stories behind our manuscripts is all part of the fun.

The letter itself is fairly mundane. It reads:

Dear Mr. Coolidge

Among my cousin, Mr. Hall’s books we found this which it seemed to me should go back to the Parkman family and I thought it might be of some value to you.

The spurs I found among Mr. Hall’s army outfit, labelled “F.P.[”] as you see, and we wondered if by any chance they could have been worn by Mr. Parkman on his “Oregon Trail” journey. It is of course only a guess, but certainly F.P. could only mean Mr. Parkman and Miss Lizzie might have given them to Mr. Hall as a keep-sake. If they were his, possibly your son Jack would like them. If not, you can of course do as you please with them.

Hoping that all goes well with your scattered children and grand-children, believe me,

Very sincerely yrs.

Mary Lee Ware

Mary Lee Ware (1858-1937) was a noted philanthropist who lived at 41 Brimmer Street, Boston. She was easy enough to find. And Francis Parkman (1823-1893) is definitely a known quantity here at the MHS—not only do we hold books by and about Parkman, we also have collections of his papers (here, here, and here) and photographs.

Our cast of characters also includes Mr. Coolidge (the recipient), Mr. Hall (Ware’s cousin), Miss Lizzie, and Jack. My first step was to put together a family tree to trace the connections between the Wares, Halls, Parkmans, and Coolidges. The spurs had somehow made their way from Francis Parkman to Mr. Hall to Mary Lee Ware. Who was this mysterious Mr. Hall that connected Parkman and Ware? Ware’s aunt Harriet had married a Hall and had several sons, but most of them died as children. Francis Parkman’s mother Caroline had also been a Hall.

I found a clue in Parkman’s 1865 book Pioneers of France in the New World. He dedicated that book to the memory of three relatives “slain in battle”: Theodore Parkman, Robert Gould Shaw, and Henry Ware Hall. Henry Ware Hall (1839-1864), Parkman’s cousin, had served in the 51st Illinois Infantry Regiment and was killed in action at the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain, Ga. This military connection would explain Hall’s “army outfit,” where the spurs had been found.

Henry Ware Hall and Francis Parkman shared an uncle, Edward Brooks Hall—the same Hall who had married Mary Lee Ware’s aunt Harriet. So Henry, Francis, and Mary were all first cousins. Still with me?

So who was Mr. Coolidge, the Parkman family member to whom Ware sent the letter and the spurs? That question was a lot easier to answer. John Templeton Coolidge (1856-1945) was Parkman’s son-in-law. (Coolidge had a son with the same name, but he was undoubtedly the “Jack” mentioned in the letter.)

Identifying the letter’s recipient also helped me to assign an approximate date. Not only did the reference to Coolidge’s grandchildren confirm it was written later in his life, but if Ware was sending the spurs to him, I could probably make the assumption that he was the last (or oldest) surviving relative of that generation. Parkman had had two daughters who lived to adulthood—Coolidge’s wife Catherine and her older sister Grace. Most likely they had both already died, as well as Grace’s husband Charles P. Coffin, or else Ware might have sent the spurs to one of them.

Catherine died in 1900, Charles in 1927, and Grace in 1928. Mary Lee Ware herself died in 1937. So the letter was apparently written sometime between 1928 and 1937. The style of stationery and writing seem to correspond to that time.

I can only guess at the story behind the spurs. If I’m right that Mr. Hall is Henry Ware Hall, they may have been found among his things long after his death in the Civil War. Ware speculates that “Miss Lizzie” gave them to Hall. She is probably Francis Parkman’s unmarried sister Eliza Willard Shaw Parkman (1832-1905)—“Lizzie” to her brother—who lived with him at 50 Chestnut Street for the last twenty years of his life, just a few blocks away from Mary Lee Ware.

By Anna Clutterbuck-Cook, Reader Services

Today we return to the 1917 diary of Gertrude Codman Carter — artist, wife of Sir Gilbert Thomas Carter, a British colonial official, and mother to a young son, John Codman Carter. In February of 1917 the family resided in Barbados where Gertrude spent her days overseeing the construction of Ilaro Court, the family residence she had designed, and participating in a wide variety of social engagements.

Although physically far removed from the war raging in Europe, the family and their neighbors were intimately connected to the violence across the Atlantic. On February 18th, Gertrude interrupts the short-form structure of her typical diary entries to give an account of the injury and later loss of a neighbor’s son in battle.

While diaries invite us to see the world through the eyes of the diarist, that perspective is not always a comfortable one. On February 17th, she notes that she took her son John and a friend to a carnival dressed as a pirate and an “Indian Chief.” Toward the end of the month, between describing social calls and an afternoon playing tennis, Gertrude sees fit to remark that she received a call from “a dreadful little Jew. These casual displays of racism and anti-semitism remind us of the larger British and American imperial hierarchies within which this white New England woman was embedded.

*** February 1917 *** 

8 Feb. Ilaro. Mr. Carter seems to be doing well.

The Harold [Whytes?] gave us a jolly little lunch at the Bridgetown Club. The Harrells, & Lady Challum, Mrs. Ball Greene from [illegible] & ourselves.

9 Feb. Plans for theatre. Called Evelyns.

10 Feb. Another engagement (doesn’t say what – so I imagine it was a [illegible]).

11 Feb. Ilaro. Took  [illegible].

Lady Clark’s [illegible]. She is much better.

12 Feb. Ilaro. Called Skeet.

13. Ilaro. John in nursery window.

14 Feb. Women Self-Help Committee Meeting.

15 Feb. (What did I do all this time? Calendar says nothing). Government House at home.

16 Feb. Ilaro. 3 [illegible] Called [illegible] Mrs. Cullen. 9. Hall Clarks. Personal [illegible].

17 Feb. Auction at Mandon. Children’s carnival at [illegible] Park. John as a Pirate walked with Lyall as an Indian Chief. Took Hamilton.

18 Feb. E.F.S. Bowen to see house.

To Wm. Mannings to tea. A lovely afternoon & I took the Hamiltons to see the place. Mrs. Manning was very cheery having just received a letter from her son John saying “The Germans seem to be out of the stuff they need to kill me!” After tea on the verandah we went out on the lawn. The telephone bell rang & Mrs. Manning trotted off to answer it. I saw her coming back with her head up like a brave soldier. “Bad news,” she said, “John is wounded. They are sending up the cable. I walked up and down with her while the others melted away. Presently a boy on a bicycle came wheeling up the drive & the butler with a tragic face brought the orange envelope across the lawn. The sun was savagely bright & the yellow and blue macaw shrieked as he swung on his perch. I opened it & read it to her.

“Regret to inform you Lieutenant John Manning brought in dressing station severely wounded. 17th instant.”

Mr. Sam Manning came across the lawn: his face was impassive & he still held a fossil shell in his hand. Mrs. Manning was sobbing in my arms. She raised her head & said, “Sam. Wasn’t it odd? You remember yesterday afternoon?” “Indeed yes,” said the husband to me. “Mrs. Manning was sitting in her room & she looked up & saw John come in.”

(There seems to have been no doubt that this was a real case of telepathy, that the dearly loved son appeared to his mother of whom he thought constantly to say goodbye. It does not to me [impair?] the example of telepathy the fact that the man who came in to Mrs. Mannings room was her other son Herbert. She saw the face of John later form upon the face of Herbert for only a few moments.)

I sat with Mrs. Manning for an hour, trying vainly to give comfort. “He isn’t missing dear Mrs. Manning, he’s comfortable. They are taking care of him, he is at the dressing station. They’ll do everything for him.” But the mother shook her head. “He will die,” she said slowly. It was to say goodbye that he came yesterday.”

And indeed I was not surprised the next day to see the flags of the town at half mast for the boy who had gone. It was to me significant that his farewell should have been to his mother rather than the graceful little wife who married him in a rush & repented it afterward.

19 Feb. A nice swim. Called [illegible] etc. etc. in P.M.

Lady Godfrey & Mrs. Austin [illegible]. Dined at the Hamilton who have moved into [illegible].

20 Feb. Tea at Mrs. Burton’s. Stone carving.

21 Feb. Took John to make calls.

22 Feb. Another nice swim. [illegible] at 11. Mrs. Clifton [Whyte’s?] party [for?] Edna

23 Feb. Took Mrs. Burton to Ilaro. Some nice [gossetts?] to Lewis. Colonel G’s son’s [fiancee?] (he was killed at Ypres) a Miss [illegible].

 [illegible] on theatre plans.

24 Feb. [illegible] Tea at the Felix Hayley’s. Theatre plans.

25 Feb. Meet Mr. Bowen & Mr. Carlin at Ilaro about sash weights. Called Wilkinson’s & Laws.

[illegible] round plan.

26 Feb. Burtons at 9. House at 10. 2 o’clock a call from Mr. R. Davis the theatre promoter. Very full of excitement. A dreadful little Jew. Hamiltons to tennis.

27 Feb. Electricity at 11. At Ilaro.

2 o’clock meeting of the Theatre Committee. [illegible] outside plan of theater for model. Worked rest of p.m.

28. Feb. Worked on [illegible] for theater. 4.30 Civic [illegible] at the Budges.

Dined at the Hamilton & played Pirate [illegible].

***

If you are interested in viewing the diary yourself, 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.

These transcriptions are preliminary and not meant to be authoritative. In all cases where a word could not be contextually surmised [illegible] has been inserted in its place.

By Grace Wagner, Reader Services

As we begin to move out of February and, hopefully, leave behind the worst of winter, I’d like to reflect back on a historic Boston storm that had a strong impact both on Boston’s landscape and its mythology. February 15, 1876 was a stormy day at the start of the United States’ centennial year. It was also the last day that one of Boston’s first ‘residents’ would stand in Boston Common. This resident was known as the “Great Elm” (and later, the “Old Elm”) and it was one of the most prominent signifiers of Boston’s place in history, a silent witness to history called upon in many early accounts of the city.

The tree had a fabled history among Bostonians. Nehemiah Adams describes the tree in alternately flowery language: “That tree is to antiquity with us what a pyramid is in Egypt. It is like the pillars of Hercules, bounding the unknown ages which preceded the arrival of the Pilgrims” (Boston Common, 1842) and more bizarre turns of phrase: “vegetable patriarch” (The Boston Common: Or, Rural Walks in Cities). Adams’ assessment of the tree’s ancientness is largely in keeping with other Bostonian’s views. Although it was a long held belief that the tree stood in Boston Common even before the Puritans arrived, it was only when the tree fell and its rings were counted that residents definitively concluded that the tree had existed since at least the 1630s (Boston Common in colonial and provincial days by Mary Farwell Ayer). 

The tree had witnessed a number of types of events over the years, from public hangings and duels during the early days of Boston to local women laundering clothing by the tree and Frog Pond at the end of the eighteenth century. In the nineteenth century, as Boston grew in size and the Common became more like a large public park, more common activities included people meeting at the Elm Tree or going skating on Frog Pond.

This nineteenth century print is one of many prints and artistic renderings that were produced of the tree and features Bostonians enjoying their time near the Great Elm, whether sitting under the tree, playing catch near it, or strolling by it. Although this particular print focuses on an idyllic depiction of the Common, it also reveals the age of the Great Elm, which is missing several branches and is fenced in by an iron gate in this depiction. The gate wasn’t installed until 1854, after a series of storms left the elm badly scarred. Over several hundred years, the tree sustained a number of injuries, including a large cavity that developed in the center of its trunk. When the tree finally did come down in 1876, struck by a strong gust of wind during a storm, Boston citizens rushed to the tree to claim branches and scraps of wood as souvenirs.

The tree was repurposed in a number of other ways by inventive residents, including creating veneered pictures of the tree made out of wood from the elm itself and growing a root of “The Old Elm” around a china dish cover. Part of the tree was also used to make a chair for the Boston Public Library (Boston Common: a diary of notable events, incidents, and neighboring occurrences by Samuel Barber). One of these keepsakes belongs to MHS’s own collection, a pair of “Old Elm earrings,” made by Benjamin F. Knowlton. The earrings are shaped like tiny liberty bells and are made out of elm wood, with tiny gold clappers, and red, white, and blue striped ribbon attached to the top of each earring.

From the days of Puritan society, when Boston Common was still a cow pasture, to the Revolution and into the nineteenth century, the Great Elm was a marker of time for Boston for many years. If you are interested in the Great Elm, or the history of Boston Common, please consider visiting the library to learn more! 

By Susan Martin, Collection Services

The MHS just acquired a fascinating document related to political activism by Boston’s black voters during the 1884 presidential election. This election, only the fourth presidential contest in which black (male) voters could take part, pitted Democrats Grover Cleveland and Thomas A. Hendricks against Republicans James G. Blaine and John A. Logan. Most African Americans supported the Republican Party, and “Blaine and Logan Clubs” had sprung up in many American cities, including Boston.

On 20 Sep. 1884, a committee consisting of three Boston men sent this letter to the Republican National Committee on behalf of the “colored voters of the 3d. Congressional district” of Massachusetts. They requested information on the candidates, particularly Democratic vice presidential nominee Hendricks. The letter reads, in part:

We hope you will be able to forward a good stock of Hendrick’s [sic] public record so that every colored man in the Commonwealth may know all about the Democratic candidate for the Vice-Presidency. […] We have formed a Blaine & Logan Club and intend to make things lively for Messrs. Cleveland & Hendricks on the 4^th day of next November.

I was curious about this “opposition research” targeting Hendricks. Thomas Andrews Hendricks (1819-1885) of Indiana certainly had a substantial public record. By 1884, he’d served in multiple elected offices, including state congressman, U.S. representative, U.S. senator, and governor. He’d even run for vice president once before, on a ticket with Samuel Tilden in 1876, but they lost to Rutherford B. Hayes. So, what specific grievances did black voters have against Hendricks? To answer that question, I found two terrific resources in the MHS stacks, both printed in Boston in 1884.

The first is a book called The Life and Public Services of Grover Cleveland, by Frederick E.  Goodrich, which includes an appended biography of Hendricks. Goodrich was an enthusiastic Democrat, and his biography is unabashedly partisan. He describes the Democrats as the true heirs to the Founding Fathers and calls the Republicans “demoralized” and “thoroughly corrupt.” Hendricks himself sounds almost mythical: “His honesty was above suspicion, his integrity was never questioned, nor his motives impugned. He won the respect of all his colleagues and retained the confidence and support of his constituents.”

Goodrich wrote in generalities and didn’t have much to say about Hendricks’ specific votes related to slavery or African American civil rights. He did explain, in one passage, Hendricks’ support for the Fugitive Slave Act:

It has been objected to him lately, that he was in favor of the Fugitive Slave Law; but so was the majority of his party, which at that time recognized that slavery was a legal institution in the Southern States, and which upheld the right of the slave-owners to claim their property wherever they found it. It is too late in the day now to rake up the anti-slavery record of any man, because many of our foremost and most honored public men since the war were, prior to that event, defenders, or at least apologists of slavery.

The second resource I found at the MHS was a speech by W. R. Holloway delivered on 2 Aug. 1884 and published in pamphlet form as A Bad Record: Hendricks as a Public Man. William Robeson Holloway (1836-1911), a staunch Republican and brother-in-law of Gov. Oliver P. Morton, had held various political appointments in Indiana. He was a full-throated anti-Hendricks man and didn’t mince his words, characterizing Hendricks like this:

Shown to have been the Friend and Apologist of Slavery, a Copperhead of the worst type.—An Intense Negro Hater, as well as a Defender of Treason, a Constant Sympathizer with the Rebellion.—The Champion of Traitors, and always a Bogus Reformer, an Insincere Demagogue, and an Uncertain Leader.—Not a Redeeming Feature to be found in the Public Career of the Choice of the Democracy for Vice-President.

Hendricks did, in fact, oppose all three Reconstruction Amendments to the U.S. Constitution: the Thirteenth (abolishing slavery), Fourteenth (extending citizenship, due process, equal protection, etc.), and Fifteenth (granting suffrage to black men). In his speech, Holloway also described how the Democrat “sustained and defended the Dred-Scott decision,” “denounced the Emancipation Proclamation,” and opposed the military service of African Americans, arguing that black soldiers lacked the courage to serve alongside whites. He accused Hendricks of opportunism, hypocrisy, and cowardice. Here’s more:

He has been consistent in his opposition to the negroes, and while in the Senate, voted uniformly against the colored race, against emancipation in the District of Columbia, against their civil and political rights in that District, and against their right to ride on the street-cars in the city of Washington; opposed their employment as soldiers, and after they were enlisted and had gallantly perilled their lives on the field of battle, he voted on more than one occasion to deny them equal compensation with white soldiers in the same service.

It’s no wonder the “colored voters of the 3d. Congressional district” were determined to “make things lively”! Massachusetts’ 14 electoral votes went to the Republican nominee, James G. Blaine, but despite the party’s best efforts, Grover Cleveland won the election by a narrow margin. Thomas A. Hendricks died one year later on 25 Nov. 1885, and the vice presidency remained vacant for the rest of Cleveland’s term.

I hoped to find out more about the three men who sent the letter, A. P. Jones, W. D. Johnson, and Jas. H. Wolff, but could only definitively identify the third man. The remarkable story of James Harris Wolff (1847-1913) probably deserves a blog post of its own. He served in the Navy during the Civil War and became a prominent black attorney who argued civil rights cases for African Americans. In 1910, he was the first black person to deliver the official Fourth of July oration in Boston.

By Shelby Wolfe, Reader Services

In the autumn of 1869 the peaceful valley of Onondaga, in central New York, was in commotion from one end to the other. Strange reports echoed from farm to farm. It was noised abroad that a great stone statue or petrified giant had been dug up near the little hamlet of Cardiff, almost at the southern extremity of the valley; and soon, despite the fact that the crops were not yet gathered and the elections not yet over, men, women, and children were hurrying from Syracuse and from the farm-houses along the valley to the scene of the great discovery.

So begins Andrew D. White in a 1902 article for The Century titled “The Cardiff Giant: The True Story of a Remarkable Deception.” Thus, he sets the scene for his bizarre – yet true – story about a very fake giant.

I came across White’s article in a scrapbook of clippings in our collections, illuminating the events and deceptions surrounding the once-famed Cardiff Giant. While the compiler of clippings in this scrapbook is unknown, this person had enough interest to collect published material and neatly title the scrapbook in black ink, “The Cardiff Giant.” On the first page, a note from the November 1902 meeting of the Massachusetts Historical Society recognizes “one of our distinguished Corresponding Members,” Andrew D. White, for his “minute description of the attempt to cheat the public.”  

On 16 October 1869, workers who were hired to dig a well on the property of William C. “Stub” Newell in Cardiff, New York, unearthed what became known as the Cardiff Giant. The bewildered well diggers were hired by Newell, who knew the figure had been deliberately planted almost a year earlier by his cousin, George Hull. While in Iowa in 1866, Hull was reportedly inspired to create a stone giant and pass it off as a petrified man after he argued with a Methodist revivalist, Rev. Mr. Turk, and wondered why so many believed the remarkable stories in the Bible about giants. Two years later, Hull hired men to quarry out an eleven-foot block of gypsum near Fort Dodge, Iowa, which he shipped by train to Chicago to be sculpted into the giant. The finished 3,000-pound figure was shipped again to Cardiff and buried to await its debut. Once it was uncovered, Newell set up a tent to display the nearly ten-foot-five colossus, and hundreds flocked to his Cardiff hamlet for a twenty-five-cent viewing of what many believed to be a petrified man (Newell raised the price to fifty cents after two days). Following the discovery, Hull sold the giant to David Hannum for $23,000, who shipped it to Syracuse and began a road tour toward New York City. Noting the public’s remarkable interest in the giant, P.T. Barnum offered to purchase it for $50,000. Though his offer was declined, Barnum covertly made an exact copy of the giant and charged visitors to view it.

While much of the public and even some professionals were fooled, others saw through the deceit, partially or fully. An article in the 3 November 1869 edition of the Worcester Daily Spy includes a testimony from Professor James Hall, “the state geologist of New York, a scholar of a good American reputation.” Hall states, “It is certainly a great curiosity, and, as it now presents itself, the most remarkable archaological [sic] discovery ever made in this country, and entirely unlike any other relics of a past age yet known to us.” While Hall did not believe it to be a petrified human, he thought it a unique object related to “the race or people of the past formerly inhabiting that part of the country.” Another article includes a letter dated 24 November 1869, in which Professor O. C. Marsh concludes, “Altogether, the work is well calculated to impose upon the general public; but I am surprised that any scientific observers should not have at once detected the unmistakable evidence against its antiquity.” He posits evidence for the deliberate and relatively recent burial of the figure, namely an analysis of the gypsum from which it was cut and the estimated erosion timeline that both support the “humbug” conclusion.

It struck me while reading George Hull’s obituary in the Boston Journal that the notice is hardly about Hull. Less of an obituary and more of a sensational article, the heading reads “Cardiff Giant” and within the article, “Hull Proud of It.” I presume it’s safe to say Hull wouldn’t have minded – the obituary notes, “Hull was very proud of the affair, and he never tired of talking about it.” According to the Boston Journal, Hull accumulated a fortune from his hoax but died in poverty. Whoever assembled this scrapbook of clippings also included an obituary next to Hull’s, printed just fifteen days later for “the last survivor of the famous ‘Cardiff Giant’ humbug,” sculptor John J. Sampson of Chicago.

The tale of the Cardiff Giant sparked the imaginations of authors Mark Twain and L. Frank Baum, and the giant even found his way into a Nancy Drew mystery. Today you can find him on display at the Farmers’ Museum in Cooperstown, New York.

If you would like to explore this topic further, visit the library to see what else you can uncover about the Cardiff Giant, its public reception and famed deception.

By Christina Carrick, Publications

In Paxton, Mass., on 3 February 1783, a riot broke out over a cow. More than a dozen “hearty fellows” from Paxton and nearby Worcester County towns stormed a “vendue” (an auction) and attempted to “rescue” a cow from the auction block. They broke through the bars penning the animal and, wielding “unusual” clubs, threatened the life and well-being of anyone who dared to place a bid. According to one witness, Paxton joiner and alleged rioter Asa Sterns said that “whosoever bids, bids at his peril” while Holden yeoman Jonathan Wheeler threatened “the first man that bid he’d knock his brain out.”

The rioters left a trail of bruises and sore heads behind them. No one was killed in the commotion, but 10 men were later arrested, charged with inciting a riot, and tried before the September Sessions of the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court in Worcester, prosecuted by Atty. Gen. Robert Treat Paine. The defendants were indicted for congregating in order to 

obstruct the due Execution of Law and to prevent the Collection of the public Taxes of this Commonwealth legally assessed on the Subjects thereof for the defence of their Liberty and happiness with force and Arms riotously routously and unlawfully did assemble and gather together for the destructive purposes aforsaid and to disturb the peace of the Commonwealth and being so assembled and gathered together, did then and there unlawfully riotously & routously remain and continue together in a tumultous manner for the space of one hour in evil Example to others to offend in like manner & against the peace & Dignity of the Commonwealth.*

In the small, makeshift notebooks that contain Paine’s hastily written trial notes, the cramped pages of witness and participant testimonies expose local, state, and class tensions. Witness after witness reported that the individuals in question, most prominently Asa and Reuben Sterns, had spoken against the state government in the weeks before the riot. Most of the Sterns brothers’ complaints addressed state taxes and more specifically the state resolve that allowed tax collectors to confiscate moveable property or livestock—the aforementioned cow—if an individual did not have specie (coin money).

Due to the shortage of hard money and the Revolutionary War’s interruptions of business-as-usual, many Paxton residents were cash-strapped and struggling to answer the intensifying state tax demands. Consequently, local officials confiscated cattle from the Sterns brothers and several other residents in lieu of unpaid taxes. Local residents saw this measure as grossly unjust. They argued that if their cattle—part of their means to a living—were confiscated, it would make it harder to earn the money to pay taxes, or even to eat. According to witness Thomas Pollard, “Asa Sterns sd. he wd. pay no more Taxes, if he did he shd. have no more money to pay Taxes.” The tax rioters complained that the coastal merchant elites were growing wealthy at their expense. David Pierce, one of the alleged rioters, swore at the trial that he was “fighting for liberty but it was become Tyranny & he wd. support it no longer” because the tax “money went to support great men.”

The resentment toward the state grew so high, witnesses reported, that after a few drinks the Sterns brothers proclaimed that Worcester County residents would be better off under the British government than the Massachusetts government. They had toasted the “brave Tories” and wished health to King George III. Other witnesses stripped the rioters of ideology and instead said that Asa Sterns “sd. if he pd. the 5 Doll for Taxes he shd. have no money to buy flip”—an alcoholic beverage popular in early New England.

On the February morning of the vendue, Reuben and Asa Sterns, David Pierce, and a number of other men arrived at the auction site with clubs, intending to stop the sale and prevent wealthier locals from purchasing their cows. Testifier Nathan Brigham Newton observed the buildup to the riot:

Vendue day, they sd. they had paid Taxes long enô.  Reuben Sterns sd. damn the Authority.  Asa Sterns sd. he’d keep his money to buy flip.  Jona. Wheeler told Silas Newton to hold his tongue or he’d split his head open.  this was before sale

Nathan Brigham Newton’s Testimony

The riot’s violence lasted less than an hour, with rioters targeting the state authorities and local tax collectors or trying to release the cattle from the auction pen and nearby barn. Some locals that were “freindly to Gov” drove the cattle back into the barn before the rioters could make off with them. The rioters were disbanded and indicted two months later.

The case was not as legally challenging as many that Paine faced. Levi Lincoln, attorney for the defense, presented thin arguments that fill barely half a page in Paine’s notebook, whereas the witness testimonies take up over a dozen. Paine noted when one defense witness stated that the rioters had not actually threatened murder, but his remaining defense notes are short and cryptic. Unlike many cases, he did not spend pages listing relevant legal texts, past case precedents, or rationalizing the charges—the case was straightforward. The 10 men were found guilty of inciting a riot and sentenced to each pay fines of £4 to £10 and sureties of £50 to £80 for a term of two years to guarantee their good behavior, while one man was sentenced to three months imprisonment. The cattle proceeded to auction; the proceeds from the sale went to the state government. Despite the relative legal simplicity, the case indicates broader tensions in Revolutionary Massachusetts.

Paine’s notes on Levi Lincoln’s arguments for the defense

Paine prosecuted several rioting cases in 1783. The same September court in Worcester County tried cases for riots in Sturbridge, Dudley, Douglass, and Petersham. These cases resemble the Paxton riot, with men resentful about taxation, confiscated livestock, and debt. The complaints underpinning these disturbances resurfaced in a larger protest movement later in the decade: Shays’s Rebellion. While the Revolutionary War drew to a close in 1783, Massachusetts residents continued to contest the shape and function of the new state government.

For the full trial story and Paine’s other legal endeavors, check out the Robert Treat Paine Papers collection at MHS and the published Papers of Robert Treat Paine. The Massachusetts State Judicial Archives also holds records on this case, including the above indictment. Paine’s notes for this case and the indictment will be printed in full in volume 4 of the Papers, forthcoming from the MHS Publications Department in 2017 thanks to a generous grant from the National Historical Publications and Records Commission (NHPRC).

*Quoted from the Massachusetts Judicial Archives, Suffolk Files 153487. All other quotations are from Paine’s trial notes at the MHS.

By Rakashi Chand, Reader Services

Unlike any other historical figure, Benedict Arnold’s contributions to the Patriotic Cause were so great that, had he not committed treason, history might have depicted him as a Founding Father. His accomplishments cannot be negated, his leadership and skill as a solider were unsurpassed, and his men loved him; had he been a less admired man, perhaps his treachery would have been less painful. The hero of the Battle of Saratoga, Arnold’s military success came at high costs, his war wounds leaving him lame and requiring the use of a cane throughout his life. Arnold fought courageously and boldly on the battlefield, the ‘Warrior’ of the Continental army, he was greatly admired and respected by his troops. So why would a man of such heroism resort to treason?

Well, perhaps it had to do with his passionate heart.

In late 1776, George Washington sent Arnold to Providence to take control of poorly defended Rhode Island following the British takeover of Newport. “His presence will be of infinite service,” Washington wrote, and indeed the 4,000-man Rhode Island militia was excited to hear of Arnold’s arrival. Arnold soon found they were not equipped for an attack on British forces and, with the lull of winter upon them, he went north to Boston in hopes of raising more troops. It was here in Boston that the middle-aged, widowed, weathered Arnold found himself embraced by Boston’s high society, including the remaining loyalists.

After the evacuation of Boston, some loyalist families returned to the city to look after property interests. One such family included Mrs. Gilbert DeBlois and her 16 year-old daughter, Elizabeth “Betsy” DeBlois. Arnold, who recently lost his wife, encountered the loquacious, flirtatious, and charming young Betsy through mutual acquaintances, namely, Lucy Flucker Knox, wife of General Henry Knox and daughter of Thomas Flucker, the royal secretary of the Province of Massachusetts Bay. Arnold promptly fell passionately in love with Betsy and tried desperately to court the girl, but her mother had already chosen another suitor, an apothecary’s apprentice. This did not stop Arnold from pursuing her; enlisting the help of Mrs. Knox, he secretly sent gifts and love letters. Arnold even sent a ring, said to be an engagement ring.

Here at the MHS is one such letter from Arnold to young Betsy. This gushing missive, meant to sweep the young belle off her feet, is the archetypal ‘love letter’. In fact, I would suggest that those who do not enjoy romance should perhaps abstain from reading any further…*

                                                                                                                                                                                       April 8^th 1778

                Dear Madam,

                Twenty times have I taken up my pen to write to you, and as often has my trembling hand refused to obey the dictates of my heart, a heart which has often been calm, and serene amidst the clashing of Arms and all the din and horrors of War, trembles with diffidence and fear at giving offence when it attempts to address you on a subject so important to its happiness, long have I struggled in vain to errace your heavenly Image from it, neither time, absence, misfortunes, nor your cruel Indifference have been able to efface the deep impressions your Charms have made, and will you doom a heart so true, so faithful, to languish in despair; shall I expect no returns to the most sincere, ardent, and disinterested passion; Dear Betsy suffer that heavenly Bosom (which surely cannot know itself the cause of misfortune without a sympathetic pang) to expand with friendship at least; and let me know my Fate, if a happy one no Man will strive more to deserve it, if on the contrary I am doom’d to despair my latest breath will be to implore the blessing of Heaven on the Idol, [the] only wish of my soul.

                                                                                    Adieu

                                                                                                Dear Madam and believe

                                                                          me most sincerely          

                                                                                                             Your devoted

                                                                                                                         Humble Servant

                                                                                                                                  B A

 

In addition to this letter, the MHS also holds the ring that Arnold sent to young Betsy in the hope of attaining her hand. 

I had read of the romances of Benedict Arnold before, but I never realized how much passion coursed through his words (and his actions) until I saw the actual love letter. Sadly, “Heavenly Miss DeBlois” refused Arnold and his gifts.

This devastating blow to the heart was received with an equally devastating blow to his pride from Congress. At the time, Arnold was due to be promoted in the ranks. Instead, Congress promoted five Brigadier Generals to Major General, all inferior to Arnold. Many, including Washington, were outraged and assumed Arnold would certainly resign at such an insult. Perhaps this prompted Arnold to begin questioning himself and the world around him…

What a romantic Arnold must have been! It seems he was passionate in all aspects of life, but one who fell zealously and fervently in love, although, all too easily!

A year later Benedict Arnold met Peggy (Margaret) Shippen, and his heart was aflame once again. He also wrote Peggy love letters quite similar to the ones he had sent to Betsy. (Well, no point wasting good prose.)  Be still my heart, for Arnold strikes again!

…And then he turned out to be a traitor. 

An early Happy Valentine’s Day to all the romantics out there, especially those who love historical romance!

*Please note that the transcription is a rough-and-ready version, not an authoritative transcript. Researchers wishing to use the letter in the course of their own work should verify the version found here with the manuscript original.

By Susan Martin, Collection Services

It was the summer of 1850, and the Massachusetts Free Soil Party needed a standard-bearer. The party was just two years old and struggled to make headway against the two-party juggernaut of Democrats and Whigs. Free Soilers had seated only a handful of their candidates in Congress so far, but with the upcoming U.S. Senate election, they saw a chance to cement their influence on public policy.

Founded in 1848 by disillusioned anti-slavery Democrats and Whigs, the party’s primary issue was opposition to slavery in new territories acquired by the United States. Thus its slogan: “Free Soil, Free Speech, Free Labor, Free Men.” To be a Free Soiler was not necessarily to be an abolitionist; the party platform didn’t call for an end to slavery, merely opposed its extension into new American land.

The Free Soilers’ sense of urgency was warranted. On 2 February 1848, with the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo that ended the Mexican-American War, the U.S. had annexed a massive amount of land, including Texas, California, and most of the American Southwest. The debate was raging: Would slavery be the law of the land in this new territory?

Daniel Webster

Then, on 7 March 1850, “the great Massachusetts Statesman” Daniel Webster gave a fateful speech. In his Seventh of March Speech, as it came to be known, Senator Webster argued in favor of the Compromise of 1850, including the abhorrent Fugitive Slave Law, as necessary to preserve the Union. Anti-slavery partisans in Massachusetts, where opposition to the compromise was strongest, were shocked and angry. Even more so when Webster was appointed Secretary of State by President Millard Fillmore in July.

To make matters worse, the nominee chosen by the Massachusetts Whig Party, Samuel A. Eliot, came out in support of Webster’s speech. The Whigs were the dominant party in the state, but Free Soilers could not, in good conscience, back Eliot’s candidacy. Tired of concessions to “the great Slave Power,” they met on 8 August to choose their own nominee.

Charles Sumner

They settled on Boston lawyer Charles Sumner, a staunch “anti-extensionist” and former “Conscience” (anti-slavery) Whig. The 39-year-old Sumner was an impressive orator notorious for delivering a controversial anti-war speech at Boston’s official Independence Day celebration five years earlier. He’d also recently argued against racial segregation in public schools in the landmark case of Roberts v. Boston, alongside African-American lawyer Robert Morris. And although he’d run for a Congressional seat once before and lost, Sumner was a logical choice, and Free Soilers were hopeful.

On 9 August 1850, Chairman William Bates and Secretary James W. Stone of the Massachusetts Free Soil Party wrote a letter to Sumner offering him the nomination. The letter, recently acquired by the MHS, reads in part:

You know well however the condition of our cause here. It is in its infancy. It requires all the energy of its advocates, all the perseverance of its friends and the vigilance of its defenders, in the absence of a daily press to counterbalance and expose the efforts of those who, we fear, might betray the citadel of freedom. There has never been a time when the clear manifestation of the principles we represent and maintain was more important than at present.

Sumner initially demurred. Then Congress passed the Compromise of 1850, and Sumner accepted the nomination.

He was a divisive candidate, to say the least. It took four months of repeated and contentious voting in Congress for Sumner to win the absolute majority necessary to take the seat, which he finally did in April 1851. It was the start of a long and illustrious career. Sumner would go on to serve in the Senate for almost 23 years, as a Free Soiler and then a Republican, until his death in 1874. Probably most famous as the victim of an assault by fellow Congressman Preston Brooks in 1856, Sumner is widely acknowledged as one of the most influential U.S. legislators during the Civil War and Reconstruction eras.

Sources:

Blue, Frederick J. Charles Sumner and the Conscience of the North. Arlington Heights, Ill.: Harlan Davidson, 1994.

Blue, Frederick J. The Free Soilers: Third Party Politics, 1848-54. Urbana, Ill.: University of Illinois Press, 1973.

Taylor, Anne-Marie. Young Charles Sumner and the Legacy of the American Enlightenment, 1811-1851. Amherst, Mass.: University of Massachusetts Press, 2001.