Experiments in Historical Libations

By Emilie Haertsch, Publications

This holiday, would you like to fancy up your cocktail by adding some founding father authenticity? Then the MHS has just the recipe for you in our collections. Ben Franklin sent James Bowdoin his recipe for “Milk Punch” on October 11, 1762. Here is the transcription of it as it appears in Franklin’s own hand:

Take 6 quarts of Brandy, and the Rinds
of 44 Lemons pared very thin; Steep the
Rinds in the Brandy 24 hours; then strain
it off. Put to it 4 Quarts of Water,
4 large Nutmegs grated, 2 quarts of
Lemon Juice, 2 pound of double refined
Sugar. When the Sugar is dissolv’d,
boil 3 Quarts of Milk and put to the rest
hot as you take it off the Fire, and stir
it about. Let it stand two Hours; then
run it thro’ a Jelly-bag till it is clear;
then bottle it off. – 

 

Now modern readers likely don’t cook on a fire or have jelly bags lying around, so the MHS provides an updated version of the recipe here. For the benefit of readers, I dutifully submitted myself to the task of testing it out to see how it would stand up to holiday festivities. My findings: if you want to get your party hopping fast, Franklin’s your man. His milk punch packs a wallop.

This is not a party drink you can decide to make at the last minute, however, because it requires more than 24 hours to prepare. The first step is to grate and juice your lemons. You will be up to your neck in lemons with this recipe (note that the original recipe calls for 44), so definitely give yourself plenty of time to grate and juice them. With the task completed, I placed the zest in a bowl with the brandy, covered it, and refrigerated it overnight. The lemon juice I set aside for the next day.

When I eagerly returned home the following day to inspect the brandy infusion, a heavenly citrus aroma wafted from the bowl. I removed the lemon zest from the brandy and added water, lemon juice, and sugar. Because I didn’t exactly have a whole nutmeg lying around (Stop & Shop was fresh out), I had to cheat a bit with that part of the recipe. I substituted the pre-grated spice instead, estimating the amount. I stirred the concoction until the sugar dissolved, but let’s face it – it was still mostly brandy. The temptation to try it then was strong, but I held out for the true Franklin experience.

For the next step, I brought the milk to a boil on the stove and then added it to the lemon/brandy mixture. Lemon juice causes milk to curdle, which is intentional in this recipe. This was hard for me to wrap my mind around because usually if I curdle milk while working on a recipe I have done something very wrong. But as the curdled texture began to form in the punch I trusted in Franklin’s wisdom. This was all part of the process. To allow for a full curdling experience, I set the punch aside for two hours. Finally, I strained the curds out to leave a smooth liquid.

It was time to reap the fruits of my labor. I poured myself a glass and garnished it with a little nutmeg sprinkled on top. At last I experienced Franklin’s milk punch, and it was worth the effort. It is quite strong, although the tart, citrus taste hides that at first. The punch reminds me a bit of a whiskey sour, which I wouldn’t expect from a drink with the word “milk” in the title. But today I shared my experiment with other MHS staffers, and they weren’t all as enthusiastic. Some enjoyed it, but others found the flavor a bit medicinal. That’s not a bad thing for everyone – it could be a nice alternative to the hot toddy.

For myself, I would definitely make this recipe again for the right crowd. So if you decide you really want to make an impression at your bash this holiday, let ol’ Franklin help you out. You will be continuing a tradition that goes back at least 250 years. Now that’s worth a toast.

 

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Making History @ MHS

By Kathleen Barker, Education Department

Pop Quiz! Which bloody seventeenth-century skirmish brought English settlers into conflict with local Wampanoags? The answer, of course, is King Philip’s War, a series of attacks that killed many colonists and Native American in 1675 and 1676, destroyed several New England towns, and cost the life of Wampanoag leader Metacom (or King Philip). Over the past few months, thirty-plus students from Boston University have been scouring the Society’s collections to learn more about this intriguing episode from Massachusetts’s past. Under the tutelage of Professor James Johnson, students became historians as they examined artifacts, transcribed documents, and tried to make sense of the relationships forged between colonists and native inhabitants, and where those relationships disintegrated.

Students visited the MHS several times, both as a class and as individual researchers. They had the opportunity to analyze a series of manuscripts and published documents. Pamphlets such as John Eliot’s Strength Out of Weakness (1652), describe Puritan’s attempts to convert Indians to Christianity, while other works, like William Hubbard’s The Present State of New-England: Being a Narrative of theTroubles with the Indians in New-England (1677) suggest that not all native peoples were willing to adopt English customs or religious principles. Class members also transcribed a number of documents from the Winslow family papers, which include the papers of Edward and Josiah Winslow, colonial governors of Plymouth Colony from 1638-1680. Several letters in the collection detail colonists’attempts to negotiate with Metacom and other native inhabitants, even as native groups began forming alliances against the English settlers.

All of this hard work culminated in an exhibition and public program hosted by the MHS on 13 December 2012. More than 100 guests visited the MHS that evening to hear the students talk about their discoveries. The program began with Professor Johnson and his students providing a brief introduction to the principles of the course, as well as colonial-native relations, growing tensions,and the war itself. Students then became docents as program attendees viewed a special exhibition assembled by the class. Small groups of students discussed the particular materials they had studied, while also answering questions about their experiences as budding history detectives.

Ultimately, this program combined many of the things that we love to do here at the MHS: we introduced a new group of people to our collections through our research library; we piqued the interest of young historians; and we provided history enthusiasts with an entertaining and informative program. For more information about visiting our library to conduct your own research, checkout our visiting the library page. You can also visit our web calendar for information about upcoming education & public programs.

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When Adams Met Lincoln

By Amanda A. Mathews, Adams Papers

Recent viewers of Steven Spielberg’s film Lincoln may be wondering whether an Adams-Lincoln connection exists as the Adamses always seem connected to the major figures of American history. John Quincy Adams and Abraham Lincoln indeed served together in the 30th Congress for three months before John Quincy Adams died on February 23, 1848. Lincoln served on the Committee of Arrangements for Adams’s funeral, but that is the only conclusive connection between the two. They shared similar political outlooks, particularly on slavery, but what Adams thought about the young Lincoln, history does not record.

We do know, however, what John Quincy Adams’s son Charles Francis Adams, minister to Great Britain during the Civil War, thought of President Lincoln. “Mr Lincoln is a tall, illformed man,” Adams wrote in his diary after their first meeting in February 1861, “with little grace of manner or polish of appearance, but with a plain, goodnatured, frank expression which rather attracts one to him.” Adams, part of the Boston elite, had little respect for his ability as a social host or leader. Shaking hands with Lincoln at his inauguration ball on March 4, Lincoln appeared to have forgotten him. “Were it any body but a Western man I should have construed it as an intentional slight,” Adams wrote.

Lincoln’s handling of the Civil War only partially softened Adams’s impression. “Mr Lincoln has certainly in some respects acquitted himself with honor,” Adams wrote on March 30, 1865, “But nothing could ever make him a gentleman, or a sagacious administrator in the selection of agents.”

Upon hearing of Lincoln’s assassination in April 1865, Adams’s final assessment is in true Adams style, accurately recognizing Lincoln’s larger place in history as well as the questions left unanswered:

To the country, the loss of Lincoln is hardly reparable. There was a grandeur about the national movement under his direction which even he might not have been able fully to sustain, but which his successor will not attempt to continue. For his own fame, the President could not have selected a more happy close. The just doubts about his capacity for reconstruction are scattered to the winds in the solemnity of the termination. From that moment his fame becomes like that of Washington the priceless treasure of the Nation.

 

Images: Top, John Quincy Adams (17 -1848), carte de visite of daguerrotype (1847) by Brady’s National Photographic Portrait Galleries, [Matthew B. Brady], after 1860; Middle, Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865), photomechanical, from Portraits of American Abolitionists, MHS photograph #81.410; Bottom, Charles Francis Adams (1807-1886), photogravure, from Portraits of American Abolitionists, MHS photograph #81.2

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Immigrants Not Such a “Problem” in 1914 Report

By Emilie Haertsch, Publications

In 1914 the Massachusetts Commission on Immigration issued a report titled The Problem of Immigration in Massachusetts (there is a copy in the Society’s collections, and you can also view it here on Google Books), but it is not what you might think. The “problem” is not how to prevent immigrants from entering Massachusetts or how to deport immigrants already residing in the Commonwealth. Rather, it is how to ensure proper care and treatment of new immigrants to the state. The report outlines the commission’s findings on the current living and working conditions of immigrants residing in Massachusetts and suggests ways in which the government can improve their lives.

Immigration has been a hot button issue since the early days of the Commonwealth, but the government has not always played a kindly role. In the 17th century, laws were enacted to discourage non-Puritan and non-English immigrants from settling in the colony. The government began encouraging the immigration of other ethnic and religious groups to aid the state’s growth in the 18th century, but by the 19th century the continuing influx of immigrants fueled a growing anti-immigrant sentiment and the rise of nativist parties in the state. This history makes the contents of this early-20th-century report even more striking

The commission identifies two main goals, “the welfare of the State and the welfare of the immigrant,” but actually focuses chiefly on the latter. Particularly remarkable is the section on education, which shows sensitivity to preserving traditional cultures in immigrant children who are assimilating. The commission recommends that teachers adopt a method that ensures “that the immigrant child shall not, through his Americanization, lose respect for his parents and for the traditions which they revere.” It also recommends offering more educational opportunities for older children and adults through evening classes, even suggesting “lectures in the various languages…to inform the immigrant about labor laws, sanitary regulations and other things he needs to know immediately upon arrival.”

Protecting immigrants from exploitation, scams, and unsafe conditions is a strong theme of the report. At the time immigrants often fell prey to negligent landlords, medical charlatans, “shyster lawyers,” and phony bankers. The commission recommends government oversight to prevent people from taking advantage of immigrants, especially those just arrived in the United States. The overall content of the report presumes two key beliefs: that the immigrant deserves to be welcomed and given the opportunity of a decent standard of living, and that the Massachusetts government has an obligation to protect and foster them.

If a modern-day Massachusetts Commission on Immigration issued a report on “The Problem of Immigration in Massachusetts,” what would it say? How might it be similar and how might it be different from this 1914 report? Share your comments below!

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A Civil War Surgeon & Prisoner of War

By Susan Martin, Collection Services

The Joseph H. Hayward family papersis one of five collections on deposit at the MHS from the Mary M. B. Wakefield Charitable Trust. The collection contains over two centuries of correspondence, diaries, sketchbooks, and other personal papers of members of the Hayward family of Milton, Mass., including Civil War surgeon John McLean Hayward (1837-1886).

John McLean Hayward, or “Mac,” graduated from Harvard Medical School in 1858. His family had already produced a number of doctors, including his father Joshua Henshaw Hayward, his uncle George Hayward, and his grandfather Lemuel Hayward. While still in his twenties, Mac was commissioned surgeon of the 12th Regiment of Massachusetts Infantry, otherwise known as the “Webster Regiment” after its first commander Col. Fletcher Webster. Mac served with distinction at Bull Run, Antietam, and other battles.

Unfortunately, on 19 November 1862, he was captured by the Confederate Army at Warrenton, Va. The Hayward collection contains some fascinating documents related to this incident, including the certificate of his parole, signed by Capt. Robert Randolph of the Black Horse Troop, 4th Virginia Cavalry. On the reverse of this document is a note granting Hayward passage “from Confederate into Federal lines.”

 

 

Hayward’s capture was complicated by the fact that he served as a non-combatant. General Order No. 60, issued on 6 June 1862 by the U.S. War Department, stated in no uncertain terms that medical personnel were off-limits. Paragraph 4 of the order read: “The principle being recognized that medical officers should not be held as prisoners of war it is hereby directed that all medical officers so held by the United States shall be immediately and unconditionally discharged.” On 26 June, the Confederate States of America did the same with its General Order No. 45.

On 26 November 1862, Hayward forwarded his parole to the assistant adjutant general in Washington, enclosed in a letter describing the circumstances of his capture. He explained that he had been ill for some time. When the 12th Regiment had decamped from Warrenton, he stayed behind to recuperate and was captured when Confederate troops marched into town. He wrote, “On the 19th Gen. Steward [Jeb Stuart] arrived and demanded my parole. I at first refused to give it on the ground that I was a surgeon and could not be paroled, but Steward took the ground that as I was not in charge of any sick at Warrenton I should be treated like any other officer in the same circumstance and if I refused my parole I should go a prisoner to Richmond.”

Annotations on the back of Hayward’s letter show a series of referrals. In just three days, the letter made its way to the Commissary-General of Prisoners Col. William Hoffman, then to Lt. Col. William H. Ludlow at Fort Monroe, Agent for Exchange of Prisoners. In his referral to Ludlow, Hoffman wrote, “This case comes clearly under Order No. 60, June 6th par. 4 – and Dr. Hayward should be released.” Ludlow agreed, writing, “The parole given by Dr. Hayward is null and void.”

Hayward eventually returned to his regiment, but had to resign his commission in April 1863 due to poor health. After serving for a short time as post surgeon at the Long Island conscript camp in Boston Harbor, he opened a private practice in Boston. In an interesting postscript to his Civil War service, documents in the collection indicate that, on 26 March 1864, he exhibited an invention to the Suffolk District Medical Society – a “mule ambulance” of his own design. The society immediately approved his invention for submission to the War Department.

John McLean Hayward was clearly well-respected as a doctor and a military man. His friend Col. James L. Bates, speaking on behalf of the regiment in a letter to the surgeon general, described Hayward as “a gentleman whom we all love and esteem, and in whose skill in surgery and medicine we have an unbounded faith.”

To learn more about the Hayward family, please visit the MHS library.

Posted in From Our Collections Tagged

The Past in the Present: Election Day

By Elaine Grublin

As evidenced in this 1798 cartoon, politcs in America have always been contentious. To mark Election Day the MHS offers a retrospective of items from our blog and across our website related to American electoral history. 

From the Beehive:

Terrorism No New Topic to Presidential Elections (6 November 2012)

“The Inveteracy of Party Spirit is however indeed allarming at present.”: Press and Partisanship in the Election of 1796 (31 October 2012)

Historian Ray Raphael on that Flummoxing Electoral College (28 September 2012)

Election Days Past (2 Nov 2010)

Our Newest Arrival: Abigail Adams on Election of 1800 (27 May 2010)

 

From Collections Online:

Leverett Saltonstall and the Election of 1876

The American Party (the Know-Nothing Party) comes to power in Massachusetts in 1855

The Gerry-Mander. A new species of Monster which appeared in Essex South District in Jan. 1812

GOP campaign mugs of Richard M. Nixon and Henry Cabot Lodge, Jr. (Just for fun.)

 

And with all the attention political ads have given to female voters in this year, it seemed appropriate to point back to Massachusetts Woman Suffrage Victory Parade : Instructions for Marchers. 

 

The image above is “Congressional Pugilists”, a political cartoon depicting Matthew Lyon fighting with a federalist opponent on the floor of Congress early in 1798.

 

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“The Inveteracy of Party Spirit is however indeed allarming at present.”: Press and Partisanship in the Election of 1796

By Amanda A. Mathews, Adams Papers

As another election season draws to a close, there is mounting concern over the state of American party politics with vitriolic and panic-stricken ads, headlines, and pleas for support dominating the media. We rush to declare an election “the nastiest ever” as we consume the negative ads and media distortions. Meanwhile, all sides assert, as Abigail Adams did to her son, John Quincy, in the late fall of 1796, “at no period has our National interest been in a more Dangerous, or difficult situation than the present.”

In the forthcoming Adams Family Correspondence, Volume 11, John Adams faces off with Thomas Jefferson in the nation’s first contested presidential election, following the retirement of George Washington in 1796. While this contest predates modern electioneering practices such as party conventions and stump speeches, much of it sounds familiar to the modern reader. Abigail complains, for instance, that Democratic-Republican newspaper editors falsely attack John for supporting “hereditary” government, and that “by such false and glaring absurdities do these misirable Beings endeavour to deceive and delude the people.”

Still, Abigail remained fearful of what might happen if the country made the wrong choice. “I feel anxious for the Fate of My Country,” Abigail wrote, “if the Administration should get into Hands who would depart from the System under which we have enjoyed so great a share of Peace prosperity and happiness, we should soon be involved in the wars and calamities which have deluged other Nations in Blood, we should Soon become a devided and a misirable people.”

Writing to his wife in December 1796, John Adams noted, “The Inveteracy of Party Spirit is however indeed allarming at present. There have been Manœuvres and Combinations in this Election that would Surprize you.” Adams, however, should not have been so surprised. In his own Defence of the Constitutions of Government of the United States of America (1787–1788), a work repeatedly held up as proof of his “undemocratic” principles, Adams noted the “natural and unchangeable inconvenience in all popular elections.” Candidates were likely to be of near equal merit, and voters of good faith would be nearly evenly divided. Therefore, elections would turn on which candidate “has the deepest purse, or the fewest scruples about using it” to win over those whose votes were for sale. So as we shake our heads at yet another political ad, we can take a bit of comfort that it is just another part of one of America’s oldest political traditions.

Posted in From Our Collections

“Death and the Civil War” airs on PBS

By Elaine Grublin

Last night I eagerly watched as American Experience debuted “Death and the Civil War,” a documentary film based on the remarkable This Republic of Suffering (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2008) by Drew Gilpin Faust. My eagerness was generated in part by my personal interest in the Civil War, and in part because this past spring I had the pleasure of working with Emmy Award winning documentary filmmaker Ric Burns and a wonderful production team from Steeplechase Films when they visited the MHS to work on this project. I assisted them in selecting documents and artifacts for filming and had the special opportunity of supervising the filming process in the Society’s Dowse Library. What an eye opening experience!  Seeing the care and time invested in the selection and filming, all the while knowing the MHS material only represented a small portion of the total material needed for the two hour film, left me with a deeper appreciation for those that research and create documentary films. 

So last night, I was anxious to see which MHS materials made the final cut and was thrilled to see a large number of our resources were used to tell portions of the story.  MHS materials feature prominently in two segments of the film. In the segment “Dying” a letter written by Wilder Dwight to his mother Elizabeth Dwight (available on our website), begun “in the saddle” at the opening of the Battle of Antietam and finished as he lay mortally wounded on that field, is read aloud while the letter and a photograph of Dwight are featured on screen.

Later in the film the story of Nathaniel Bowditch, a Massachusetts soldier mortally wounded at the Battle of Kelly’s Ford, and his father Henry Bowditch, who championed improvement of the ambulance service available to soldiers after the death of his son, weaves through the segment “Naming.”  This segment includes images of both Nathaniel and Henry Bowditch, a panning shot featuring a number of personal items belonging to “Nat” from the Bowditch Cabinet, as well as an assortment of items – the “terrible telegram” and the annotated map of Virginia showing the site of the younger Bowditch’s death, among others — contained in the Nathaniel Bowditch Memorial Collection.   

If you missed the episode, look for it to re-air on PBS or watch it online. You will be glad that you did. 

Posted in From Our Collections Tagged

Louisa Catherine Adams: A Mother Reflects on the Death of her Infant Daughter

By Judith Graham, Adams Papers

Louisa Catherine Adams’ (LCA) only known writings about the period of her daughter and namesake’s final illness in St. Petersburg are eloquent in their brevity and starkness. In a second, shorter version of “The Adventures of a Nobody,” a memoir begun in 1840 and composed largely in diary form, LCA wrote: 

3 [30] August [1812]: Went into the Country with my sick Child.

9 [September]: Took my Babe back to the City in Convulsions Dr  Simpson and Galloway both attend the Babe

12 [15 September]: My Child gone to heaven

To assuage her grief, LCA on 22 October began to keep her Russian diary. “I have procured this Book with a view to write my thoughts and if possible to avoid dwelling on the secret and bitter reproaches of my heart for my conduct as it regarded my lost adored Child whose death was surely occasion’d by procrastination,” LCA explained, needlessly blaming herself for the loss. In her despair LCA wrote on 5 Dec. that her daughter’s death was a blow that left her “only desirous of mingling my ashes with those of my lovely Babe.”

In a 30 January 1813 letter, Abigail Adams, writing as one who early in life “had also been “call’d to taste the bitter cup”—a reference to the loss of her own daughter, Susanna, in infancy—offered her daughter-in-law consolation. When LCA replied on 4 April, her self-reproach was again evident: “I have the horrid idea that I lost my darling owing to a fall which I had with her in my arms in, which I did not percieve that she had met with the slightest injury but which is said to have been the cause of her death.” By 14 August of that year LCA could report relief of a kind. “What wonderful changes have taken place since I last took up this book even my health and spirits are so much amended that I scarcely know myself,” she wrote in her diary, and she thanked “the Almighty disposer of events for his great mercy in having raised me up and comforted me.” She would “ever put my trust in him for in heaven alone can I find consolation and I look forward with the hope of soon being reunited to my Angelic Babe—”

But on 7 February 1814 she wrote, with her usual forthrightness, “Mr Adams gave me Dr [Benjamin] Rush’s work upon the deseases of the Mind to read. . . . I confess it produced a very powerful effect upon my feelings and occasion’d sensations of a very painful kind since the loss of my darling babe I am sensible of a great change in my character and I often involuntarily question myself as to the perfect sanity of my mind.”

LCA gradually regained her confidence, showing remarkable resourcefulness and nerve on her 2,000-mile journey from St. Petersburg to Paris, 12 February to 23 March 1815, to meet her husband, John Quincy Adams (JQA), who had been negotiating the Treaty of Ghent. In “Narrative of a Journey from Russia to France” she reflected on her bitter experience in Russia: “In Petersburg for five long years I had lived a Stranger to all, but the kind regards of the Imperial family; and I quitted its gaudy loneliness without a sigh, except that which was wafted to the tomb of my lovely Babe— To that spot my heart yet wanders with a chastened grief, that looks to hopes above—”

An edition of Louisa Catherine Adams’ account of her demanding and eventful life—her childhood, courtship and marriage, and the years with JQA on his diplomatic missions to Prussia and Russia and during his periods of service as Massachusetts and U.S. senator, U.S. secretary of state, and U.S. congressman—has been prepared at the Adams Papers, Massachusetts Historical Society, and will shortly be published: Diary and Autobiographical Writings of Louisa Catherine Adams, ed. Judith S. Graham, Beth Luey, Margaret A. Hogan, and C. James Taylor, 2 vols., The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2013.

For JQA’s description of the death of his daughter, please read, Louisa Catherine Adams: A Father Reflects on the Death of his Infant Daughter.

Posted in From Our Collections

Louisa Catherine Adams: A Father Reflects on the Death of his Infant Daughter

By Nancy Heywood, Collection Services

On 15 September 1812, John Quincy Adams (JQA), then serving in St. Petersburg as U.S. minister plenipotentiary to Russia, and his wife, Louisa Catherine Adams (LCA), suffered a huge loss—the death of their only daughter. Thirteen-month-old Louisa Catherine, named for her mother, had been unwell for weeks. She experienced extreme discomfort due to teething (in his diary, JQA stated she was cutting seven teeth at the same time), had dysentery, and was feverish. JQA sought out the best medical treatment for his daughter in St. Petersburg. The standard medical practices at this time, bleeding and the deliberate creation of boils, were based on the assumption that infections and toxins could be removed from a person by drawing out bodily fluids; however, rather than providing relief, these techniques usually only weakened the patient further.

JQA’s long diary entry for 15 September 1812 includes this passage: 

The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away— Blessed be the name of the Lord— At twenty-five minutes past one this morning, expired my daughter, Louisa Catherine, as lovely an infant as ever breathed the air of Heaven— … Her last moments were distressing to me and to her mother, beyond expression. (From John Quincy Adams diary 28, 1809–1813, page 413) 

The weeks leading up to young Louisa Catherine’s death were stressful for JQA. Following the advice of two doctors, Dr. Galloway and Dr. Simpson, who thought the infant might benefit from fresh country air, JQA made arrangements for his family to move to Ochta, about 7 miles northeast of St. Petersburg. JQA’s diary indicates that he traveled back and forth between the two locations, sometimes making more than one trip each day. Both doctors made frequent visits to check on the young patient. On 8 September, Dr. Galloway “ordered a blister between the shoulders” of young Louisa Catherine. Then, both doctors recommend that JQA and LCA bring their daughter back to St. Petersburg, which they did on 9 September. Two days later, on 11 September, Dr. Gibbs, a surgeon, lanced one of the infant’s gums. 

Understandably, JQA was distracted as he did his best to fulfill his duties during this time.  On 10 September 1812 JQA wrote: 

The agitation of mind occasioned by her illness, is so great that I have neither time for the ordinary occupations of my life, nor recollection of its common incidents. I have had in the course of the few last days several visitors, but have hardly the remembrance of their names, or of the occasions of their visits. (From John Quincy Adams diary 28, 1809 -1813, page 411)

JQA’s diary indicates the toll the baby’s final days took on the whole family. On the afternoon of 13 September, an exhausted and distressed LCA temporarily left her daughter’s side and went into a different chamber. JQA describes how he alternated between checking on his wife and checking on his daughter, who at that time was under the care of a nurse and LCA’s sister, Catherine Johnson. According to JQA’s diary, 14 September was a particularly grueling day for all involved. LCA returned to her daughter’s side, but by evening all hope was gone. Catherine fainted (JQA states that for forty-eight hours she “had scarcely for an instant moved from the side of the Cradle”) and LCA “was suffering little less than her Child.” Young Louisa Catherine died early on the morning of 15 September.  

After a funeral service in St. Petersburg’s English Factory Church on 17 September 1812, the infant Louisa Catherine Adams was buried at the Lutheran Cemetery on nearby Vasilevsky Island. Two hundred years later she is still remembered—on 15 September 2012 the Consul General of the United States of America in St. Petersburg will host a ceremony in that cemetery to unveil a new memorial stone for Louisa Catherine Adams.

For some of JQA’s wife’s writings about the death of her daughter, please read, Louisa Catherine Adams: A Mother Reflects on the Death of her Infant Daughter.

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