By Anna J. Clutterbuck-Cook, Reader Services

As Boston digs out from yet another heavy snowfall this week, it warms my imagination to return to our anonymous journey up the Nile by steamship — a pleasure cruise documented in the diaries of an anonymous American traveler during the winter of 1914-1915. Our diarist’s narrative begins shortly before Thanksgiving, as she and her travel companions board the steamer Egypt, likely in Cairo.

Nov. 25. Steamer Egypt, sailed at 10 a.m. & we went on board earlier with Mrs Phelps &  daughter also from our hotel. Had lunch early at 11.30 & right after started out on donkeys – first to site of ancient Memphis saw two statues of Ramses II lying down & a new sphinx discovered in the summer by Prof. Petrie. Then rode to steps pyramid of Sakkara on by Mariette’s house to tomb of Thi then the Serapheum with 24 sarcophagis. Got back to ship at 5:30 & had tea on deck.

Nov. 26. Saw beautiful sunrise from my window. Made no stops today, but several times stuck in the sand. Nothing of especial interest but very beautiful sunset with color on the water.

Nov. 27. Thanksgiving. Went on shore – soon after breakfast at Benihasan. Rode donkeys to  rock temple of Speos Artemidos, temple of Goddess Pekhet, then on further & climbed hill to tombs of Benihasan hewn in the rock. […illegible phrase…] back just for lunch. On boat in p.m.

Nov. 28. Boat got stuck in forenoon & it took over two hours to get it started so made us later at Assuit. Had […illegible phrase…] trek to get there & arrived about 4 p.m. Took donkeys & rode out through the town to a large rock  tomb of a Prince Hapzefai. Then on a hill & a fine view from there over Assuit then rode back through the bazars to ship in time for tea. Very dusty ride. Met “Arabia” at Assuit.

Nov. 29. Beautiful sunrise. Spent morning sewing in my room. Sailing all day.

Nov. 30. Boat got stuck on sand before ten & would not move for fully five hours. Dr. Hodson conducted services […illegible phrase…] at 10:30. Did not land.

This initial week of entries sets the tone for our diarist’s record: We are appraised of distances covered and modes of transportation, the time and place of meals, details of the weather, and provided with a list of archeological sites visited. One of the most basic observations to make about our traveler’s account is that her encounter with Egypt is a highly curated on. In its record of ancient sites, her amateur travel narrative hews closely to a number of commercial guidebooks. The table of contents to Cook’s guidebook The Nile (1901) provides entries for most of the sites, and its description of the country isalmost entirely mediated by archeology and ancient history.

I find myself wondering, though, how our diarist’s narrative compares to published travel narratives, of which there were many, covering the same ground. In six weeks’ time we will take a comparative look at several such narratives, alongside the next seven daily entries from our own narrator.

Note: My rough-and-ready transcriptions of the diary entries are not authoritative; if you seek to use this source in your own work, I recommend contacting the MHS for reproductions of the original. Some English-language spellings of Arabic place-names have changed since 1914. I have retained the diarist’s spellings throughout.

By Dan Hinchen

Two things that make creating these posts for the Beehive a little bit easier are visual images and convenient coincidence. I lucked out this time around in having both. The images below (except the photo-portraits) were created by two men who seem to have very little to do with one another. One was a Civil War captain and later a librarian, while the other made a career for himself as one of the most prominent American artists of the late-19^th and early-20^th centuries. The first was an amateur who mainly did pencil drawings in his scrapbooks and journals, the second designed posters, catalogs, and held public exhibitions in major cities.

Eben W. Fiske (1823-1900) served during the Civil War as a Captain in the 13^th Regiment Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry in Virginia. As part of the Fiske family papers here at the MHS, we hold several of his small notebooks which contain clippings from newspapers and a variety of pencil drawings. For ease of description, I split his drawings into two very broad categories: Civil War drawings and Other.

Fiske’s war artwork illustrates sketches of specific subjects such as the people and animals he encountered. I first saw his illustration pictured above in one of the Society’s past exhibitions. The image of this infantryman inspired me to further investigate Fiske’s artwork for this blog post.

The set of drawings I describe loosely as Other, consists of illustrations that Fiske created to go along with verses from poems and other writings. This set of drawings reminds me somewhat of those done by Christopher Pearse Cranch, subject of a previous post here. One such drawing illustrates a single verse from the poem “On Lending a Punch Bowl,” by Oliver Wendell Holmes:

“But changing hands, it reached at length a Puritan divine/Who used to follow Timothy and take a little wine/But hated punch and prelacy; and so it was, perhaps/He went to Leyden, where he found conventicles and schnaps.”

The second artist, Boston native Will H. Bradley (1868-1962), is best remembered as the “Dean of American Design.” Bradley’s Art Nouveau style widely graced the pages of commercial trade catalogs, posters, and public exhibitions through the late-19th and early-20th centuries. His career as a visual artist brought him international acclaim. He reigned in his time as the most highly-paid American artist. Recently, the MHS digtized a sample of his work for view on our website. Bradley designed and illustrated the Overland Wheel Co./Victor Bicycle catalog in 1899. Check it out here to learn more about his life and work.

In addition to the bicycle catalog available on the website, take a look at a few other pieces in the MHS collections that show Bradley’s work.

So, why is it that I am connecting these two men in this post? A clue lies in the image just above of the train. Fiske served as the librarian in Ishpeming, MI, a small town on the Upper Peninsula. Bradley, after the death of his father, moved with his mother to the town of Ishpeming, MI, to be closer to their relatives. It was here that he became a printer’s apprentice, his first job in the field he would come to dominate in his lifetime. It was a happy accident that led me connect these two men for this post. Unfortunately, I could not find information about the timing of Fiske’s tenure as librarian in Ishpeming. Perhaps a young Mr. Bradley crossed paths with the older librarian at some point in Ishpeming. Convenient coincidence that they should both end up represented at the MHS. 

To find out more about the collections that the Society holds relating to these two Ishpeming-ites, try searching in our online catalog, ABIGAIL.

By Wesley Fiorentino, Reader Services

On June 30, 1704, six men were hanged in Boston in what was the first trial for piracy by the British Admiralty Court outside of England.  The Arraignment, Tryal, and Condemnation of John Quelch provides a transcript of what is perhaps Boston’s earliest trial for piracy.  The court proceedings provide a detailed account of the events leading up to Quelch’s capture, as well as of the crimes committed Quelch and his crew.

In July of 1703, Governor Joseph Dudley granted a privateering license to Captain Daniel Plowman of the Charles and sent the ship to attack French and Spanish vessels near Newfoundland and Arcadia.  However, while the ship was still in Massachusetts, Captain Plowman became extremely ill and was confined to his quarters by the rebellious crew.  Plowman’s lieutenant, John Quelch, was chosen to be the new captain by the crew and the ship’s course was changed.  Plowman was thrown overboard, whether dead or alive seems uncertain, and Quelch led the crew of the Charles on what would be nearly a year-long piracy spree against Portuguese ships in the Caribbean and off the coast of South America.

Between August of 1703 and February of 1704, Quelch and the crew of the Charles attacked and captured no fewer than nine Portuguese vessels off the coast of Brazil, stealing a wide variety of goods and valuables and committing a number of other crimes including murder.  Precise dates are given for each of the nine attacks, as well as detailed descriptions of the crimes committed and the goods stolen.  The various commodities stolen from the different ships include gold dust, sugar, molasses, rum, rice, textiles, pottery, and a large quantity of coined Portuguese money.  Quantities are listed for the goods taken, and values also provided, offering insight into the monetary value of these goods around the turn of the eighteenth century.  A value of thirty pounds is given for one of the ships, which had apparently been sunk by Quelch and his crew.

The court record also provides historical information on Africans enslaved both in British and Portuguese colonies during this period.  A number of enslaved people of African descent are referred to in the records both as the property of the crew and as plunder from piratical raids.  At least three people are referred to in a letter of John Colman, provided in the appendix to the court proceedings, to colonial authorities in the West Indies.  Two of them, named Charles and Caesar, are mentioned by Colman as the property of a Colonel Hobbey.  The third, named Mingo, is listed as belonging to Captain Plowman himself.  Colman mentions the three men in a plea to the colonies of the West Indies to secure the goods on board the Charles and prevent them from being stolen by the mutinous crew.  Colman asks for the return of the men “and their shares,” and it is unclear whether this means that Charles, Caesar, and Mingo had any actual share in the goods on the ship, or whether it means the shares of their respective owners.

At least two more enslaved men were captured by Quelch and his crew during several of their attacks on Portuguese ships.  Joachim, an enslaved person aboard a Portuguese brigantine taken by the Charles, was valued at twenty pounds.  Joachim is described as baptized, possibly as a Catholic given his ownership by a Portuguese master, though this is not expressly stated.  He is the only enslaved person in the record described as baptized.  Emmanuel, an enslaved person valued by the court record at forty pounds, was the property of a Portuguese commander named Bastian whose ship was captured by Quelch and his crew near the River Plate (Rio de la Plata) in South America.  Bastian was shot and killed during the attack, apparently by Christopher Scudamore the ship’s cooper, according to the testimony of Emmanuel.  For a time Joachim and Emmanuel served the crew, but were both sold to crew members at some point during the voyage.  Joachim was purchased by one George Norton, and Emmanuel was purchased by Benjamin Perkins, both for undisclosed amounts.

During the trial itself, three members of the crew, Matthew Pymer, John Clifford, and James Parrot, testified against Quelch in court and so avoided prosecution.  The transcript also repeatedly states that the English and Portuguese crowns had recently become allies at the time of Quelch’s crimes, further exasperating the case against him.  Among those presiding over the trial were Governor Joseph Dudley and Samuel Sewall, First Judge of the Massachusetts-Bay Province.  John Quelch, John Lambert, Christopher Scudamore, John Miller, Erasmus Peterson, and Peter Roach were sentenced to hang.  The execution was carried out “in Charles River; between Broughton’s Ware-house, and the Point.”

Joachim and Emmanuel were both called upon to testify against Quelch and certain members of his crew.  Emmanuel specifically identified Christopher Scudamore as the murderer of his master Bastian, while both men testified that Quelch and his crew ordered them to claim that they had been Spanish enslaved people rather than Portuguese upon returning to Boston in order to cover up the crimes against Portuguese ships.  Charles, Caesar, and Mingo were all charged with piracy along with the crew, though they were found not guilty.  Charles and Caesar were presumably returned to their master, Colonel Hobbey, while the fate of Mingo is not recorded.  The fates of Joachim and Emmanuel following the trial are not recorded either.  It is interesting to note that though they were considered property, enslaved personswere still called upon to testify in an important trial like free men.

Several important documents and letters are provided in the appendix, including Captain Plowman’s commission from Massachusetts Governor Joseph Dudley as well as his instructions.  In the commission, Dudley explains to Plowman that he is “Hereby Authorizing you in and with the said Briganteen and Company to her belonging, to War, Fight, Take, Kill, Suppress and Destroy, any Pirates, Privateers, or other the Subjects and Vassals of France, or Spain, the Declared Enemies of the Crown of England, in what Place soever you shall happen to meet them.”  Plowman is warned that “Swearing, Drunkenness and Prophaneness be avoided,” and that no one, even enemies of the British crown, “be in cold Blood killed, maimed, or by Torture or Cruelty inhumanly treated contrary to the Common Usage or Just Permission of War.”  Also included are correspondence between Plowman and the Charles’ owners John Colman and William Clarke regarding Plowman’s illness and his growing mistrust of the crew.

Taking place during Queen Anne’s War (1702-1713), the crimes of John Quelch and the crew of the Charles should be viewed in the context of the affairs between the European colonial empires in the New World at the dawn of the eighteenth century.  Licensed by Governor Dudley as a “private man-of-war,” the Charles was expressly instructed to attack the ships of “Her Majesty’s enemies,” namely France and Spain.  Instead, the crew mutinied against their licensed captain and, to the chagrin of Governor Dudley and British colonial authorities, they attacked the ships of Britain’s ally Portugal.  It is clear from the text that these crimes are taken very seriously not only as acts of piracy, but as an embarrassment to the crown.

By Anna J. Clutterbuck-Cook, Reader Services

In my previous post, I explored the world of early twentieth-century travel by train. Inspired by the glimpse into another era the diary behind that post evoked, I went looking for other travel diaries from the same era and found an anonymous diary kept by a Boston woman while on a steamer cruise up the Nile in Egypt.

Intrigued by the notion of an American tourist riding donkeys out to explore Egyptian archeological sites and having tea at British colonial resorts while Europe was at war, I have decided to use this diary as a jumping-off point to write a series of posts this winter placing this diary, and the adventure it describes, in broader historical context.

The diary begins abruptly on 25 November 2014 with our diarist already en route up the Nile by steamer. The author begins each day with the date and writes a few lines about her daily activities — notes on where and how she and her party traveled, the sites visited, as well as where and when she had breakfast, lunch, and tea. Even without detailed information about the author’s identity and the personal context of her foreign travel, her written record of progress up the Nile can serve as a catalyst for a number of historical questions.

We might explore, for example, what the diary can tell us about the history of travel, and particularly the history of women travellers. Her story is part of a long history of Anglo-American fascination with Egypt and the Middle East that bears unpacking — by virtue of her anonymity her experience may shed light on the experience of everyday, rather than famous (or infamous), Americans abroad.  We might ask what her narrative can tell us about the materiality of travel, about human interaction with the natural and built environment. We can also note the silences and erasures within her narrative: those aspects of Egypt which she may or may not see, but certainly doesn’t write about.

Stay tuned for the second post in this series, coming in February, in which we will delve into the timeline of our diarist’s journey up the Nile and some of the activities she did record along the way.

By Andrea Cronin, Reader Services

I went to Ceylon (modern day Sri Lanka) this morning. The flight from Boston normally costs upwards of $1,000. Flight time, with layovers, averages 24 hours. However my trip to Ceylon did not cost me a dime or any flight time. I went on a “mind vacation.” The concept sounds a little quirky but a mind vacation is a great way to visit another place or time without actually spending the money for a flight or inventing time travel. (Although if you are currently devising time travel, I want in.)

My mind vacation materialized as I read Reverend James Cordiner’s Description of Ceylon. In these two volumes, Cordiner recorded his experiences in Ceylon while serving as chaplain to the garrison of the capital Colombo from 1799 to 1804. The first volume contains descriptions of the island’s geography, resources, inhabitants and climate. When I first read the climate description of Colombo, thoughts of the brisk January temperatures in Boston today — and the approaching blizzard — simply melted away.

With great detail, Cordiner contrasts the climate of Colombo with the nearby British trading port of Madras (modern day Chennai, India).  “…with the arid plains, withered vegetation, scorching winds, and clouds of burning dust, which, for several months in the year, cast an inhospitable gloom around the vicinity of Madras. There in, the month of May, 1804, Farenheit’s thermometer appeared above ninety degrees before nine o’clock in the morning, and, in the course of the day, rose in many houses to one hundred and nine degrees.” Cordiner considers this port’s climate to be lacking. I also think Madras is a little too hot and dusty for a comfortable mind vacation.

I find his description of Colombo comparatively restorative to read in the middle of January. “The smallest inconvenience from heat is never felt within doors at Columbo. Even passing through this moisture under the full blaze of the meridian sun, the air is ten degrees cooler that than of Madras … There is then always a fresh breeze from the sea, which greatly lessens the effects of the sun’s power.” Colombo is a tropical vacation compared to dusty Madras — and snowy Boston!  With temperatures in the 80s and a sea breeze, who would not want to visit?

Do you need a mind vacation this week? I encourage you to visit our reading room (although check our homepage, as we may close due to snow) for a mind vacation to plenty of local and distant destinations throughout the centuries available in our collections.  I would love to hear your adventures.

By Dan Hinchen

Amendment XVIII

Section 1.

After one year from the ratification of this article the manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquors within, the importation thereof into, or the exportation thereof from the United States and all territory subject to the jurisdiction thereof for beverage purposes is hereby prohibited.

Section 2.

The Congress and the several states shall have concurrent power to enforce this article by appropriate legislation.

Section 3.

This article shall be inoperative unless it shall have been ratified as an amendment to the Constitution by the legislatures of the several states, as provided in the Constitution, within seven years from the date of the submission hereof to the states by the Congress.

The 18th amendment to the United States Constitution was ratified by Congress on 18 December 1917. About thirteen months later, on 16 January 1919, Nebraska signed on as the 36th state approving the amendment, thus ratifying it as law. For the next 14 years, the sale, manufacture, and transportation of alcohol was illegal in the United States.

The calls for prohibition and temperence were nothing new. In fact, Massachusetts already had experience dealing with prohibitory laws. In 1855, a law passed that forbade the sale of all intoxicating liquors (including beer, wine, and cider) as a drink or medicine, except when sold by certain agents of the State. Appeals for a more lenient license law were constant until 1875 when the new Governor Gaston recommended repeal of the law. As it turns out, not everyone was strictly abiding by the law while it was in place, a problem that was endemic during the national prohibition decades later

Here at the MHS, we have documents relating to these issues going back a century before the 18th amendment became law. Much of the material here is in support of prohibition and is pro-temperance. In some cases, women involved in the suffrage movement tried to combine forces with the temperance movement, encouraging suffrage so that the temperance movement could have more votes. Francis Parkman, a temperance advocate, disagreed with the strategy:

However, among all the 19th century voices condemning the consumption of alcohol, there were still those opposed to full prohibition, even some that were members of the clergy:

After just a few years, there were claims that Prohibition and the 18th amendment were already failing. One such example comes from Joseph Curtis who wrote a pamphlet simply titled Prohibition is a Failure in 1924. Prompted by an article stating that stricter enforcement of the law was soon to come (embodied in the Volstead Act), Curtis recounts reading a statement by Dr. C.W. Eliot calling for such enhanced enforcement and how he felt that his “life, liberty and happiness, and that of every other american citizen was going to be imperiled if Dr. Eliot’s views should prevail. For without liberty and happiness, life isn’t worth living…” 

To find out what else the MHS has regarding temperance and prohibition, try searching the terms in our online catalog, ABIGAIL. Then raise a glass to the liberty and happiness of Mr. Curtis which make life worth living!

By Kittle Evenson, Reader Services

For my inaugural Beehive post I delved into the world of female incarceration, attempting to better understand the creation of women’s prisons in Massachusetts, and the codified societal controls imposed on women in the 19th century.

In 1874, Emory Washburn published “Reasons for a Separate State Prison for Women” and with impassioned rhetoric, called out the systemic inequalities leading to women’s imprisonment, and called for a shift in focus from punishment to reformation.

While I initially read his publication expecting a paternalistic discourse, what I found was a sharp commentary on women’s power for self-determination and democratic participation.

But for what we are bound to suppose wise reasons, the voice of only one sex can be heard at the ballot-box, while the other must content themselves with humbly making known their wishes to the legislature, that something may be done to relieve the Commonwealth from this inequality in the administration of justice in the case of the two sexes. It is not overlooked, that not a few of those who would be the inmates of such a prison as is here advocated, have become so from causes with which those whose votes help to settle questions of this kind have had much to do [emphasis added].

Crime is a form of social action; the criminal justice system a type of social control; and the arc of women’s history is inexorably linked to both. In puritan New England, women were predominantly brought up on charges of fornication and adultery, and even crimes such as murder, were often the result of secretive abortions, or desperate acts of infanticide. Punishment was evocative and public. As concrete expressions of social control, it served dual purposes as both a lesson to the female perpetrators and an establishment of boundaries for the women waiting in the wings.

Within our collections, there is a smattering of “last words” of colonial-era women convicted and punished for felonious crimes. Secondary sources, such as N.E.H. Hull’s Female Felons: Women and Serious Crime in Colonial Massachusetts deftly explicate the female experience in colonial courts, but women’s first-hand accounts of the 19th century justice system prove maddeningly elusive.

In his call for sex-segregated prisons, Washburn is speaking to a society in which women are jailed in the same institutions as men, yet offered no means with which to train or educate themselves.

Reformers saw the harsh conditions of men’s prisons as hardening and detrimental to women, with the lack of educational and vocational trainings failing to prepare them for a productive life beyond their incarceration. With no prospects independent of crime, recidivism among women was high, and the cycle of crime in the mid-19th century rarely broken. By advocating for separate women’s reformatories, Washburn saw a chance to break women free from this cycle. So long as the women had sufficient time to internalize the reform.

The process of working to reform in such prisons must, at best, be slow, and the attempt to do it in the period of a few months practically hopeless. Such sentences have reference to disposing of bad subjects for the time being, and not to the reforming of them (6).

To better understand the women’s prisons that arose from this movement, I found the 1888 report to the Massachusetts Commissioners of Prisons detailing the first year of the  Reformatory Prison for Women at Sherborn. The report echoes Washburn’s call for longer sentences and the necessity for access to education and vocational training. But it also complicates our understanding of female incarceration – detailing the all-female prison staff tasked with monitoring, controlling, and reforming the women under their care. This staff included a chaplain: Eliza L. Pierce, a physician: Eliza M. Mosher, and superintendent: Eudora C. Atkinson.

In its first year the prison held 794 women. 143 of the inmates were sentenced for acting “idle and disorderly”; 147 for being a “common night-walker”; and the most, 161, for being a “common drunkard” (161). While the women’s financial backgrounds are unclear, it was recorded that the majority, 54%, were foreign born.

Fom this tableau of sources, we see the beginnings of a rich context into which the experiences of women as gatekeepers, educators, protectors and prisoners can be woven. Questions abound as to the concrete changes these women pursued; the dynamics between domestic and foreign-born inmates; and the support these prisoners received after their release, specifically from institutions such as Temporary Asylum for Discharged Female Prisoners.

These are just a selection of the MHS’s offerings pertaining to women’s incarceration. Researchers interested in engaging further with these sources, or our broader manuscript and print collections, are encouraged to contact the library or stop by for a visit.

By

Warm wishes for happy holidays from the MHS!

Illustration depicting three “Christmas Eve” scenes from the Bertha Louise Cogswell drawing books.