Joseph Doane v. Lot Gage, rela a Whale, Part 1

By Heather Rockwood, Communications Associate

In 1765, nearly 100 Massachusetts vessels fished and whaled the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the Straits of Belle Isle, which lie between Newfoundland and Labrador. There were several Cape Cod whalers, including the two ships that concern us today, captained by Capt. Joseph Doane of Chatham and Capt. Lot Gage of Harwich. On 21 June the hunting was good in the Straits; a sizable number of boats from several vessels were in the water, and numerous whales had been sighted. One whale had succeeded in eluding capture, until Asa Nickerson, commanding one of Doane’s boats, drove his “iron” into it. The whale sounded with the line. At some point thereafter, Gage himself struck the same whale and Nickerson’s line came free. Gage was able to maintain control over the whale, supervise the kill, and bring its marketable parts aboard ship.

It seems that Gage then owned the whale and the rights to all proceeds made from it, right? Not according to Doane who then demanded one-eighth share in the profits of the whale since his sailor caught the whale first. Gage stood his ground and Doane had no choice but to take him to court.

This is where the story gets very interesting and dramatic! The two captains brought the case to the Inferior Court in Barnstable on Cape Cod, where people were swayed to a side, depending on long-standing rivalries, which ship’s sailors told them the story, or because they held a financial interest in one of the ships. Sides were chosen all along the Cape and public opinion was running rampant.

In June 1766, John Adams was asked to serve as counsel to Doane in his suit for that one-eighth share. James Otis, Jr., John Adams’ mentor as a lawyer, as well as James Otis, Sr., represented the Gage interests.

Depositions were taken in Barnstable, but public opinion was so strong on each side that both lawyers felt that holding the trial in Barnstable would be detrimental since a partial jury would not be found there. It was agreed between them that depositions are fine, but the Vice Admiralty Court would be the place for the eventual trial.

On 6 January 1768 John Adams entered “Joseph Doane v. Lot Gage, rela. a Whale” on the docket for the Vice Admiralty Court. At this time Robert Treat Paine, a whaler himself for a brief time, joined the father and son Otis on the counsel for Gage.

I’d like to pause here because there are things happening in Boston that would have made emotions run even higher. In October 1768, 2,000 troops arrived from his Royal Highness’s Army to quell suspected rebellion in Boston. This came after taxes were levied in the previous years and Bostonians refused to pay them which resulted in tax collectors’ property and bodies being attacked. The soldiers were there to dampen the fervor in the town, but it stoked the fire of rebellion instead and eventually led to the Boston Massacre on 5 March 1770, after which the soldiers were sent out of Boston.

I’ve written before about James Otis, Jr. and his volatile, if brilliant, nature, but an incident occurred during this time that shines a little light on his character and capacity. Otis was known for having exemplary oratory capabilities and could wax poetic for literally hours. However, he could also have bouts of mania where he would malign his enemies in Boston papers, have abrupt changes in mood, and be despondent for days. In September 1768, one of his enemies finally had enough. Otis responded in one of his newspaper writings to something tax collector John Robinson had said about him. Robinson and Otis happened upon each other in a Boston coffeehouse and a fight ensued. Robinson struck Otis on the head with his cane, after which Otis was never quite the same. He had mental struggles before this, but after the incident it was difficult for Otis to carry on conversations, handle his law cases, or do his duty to the Massachusetts General Assembly. His family eventually secluded him in a friend’s house. Although he would periodically dine with friends or other Assembly members, it was obvious he was very different.

With all this going on in Boston, and personally with Otis, on 22 April 1769 the parties agreed to submit the matter to arbitrators.

Watch for Part 2 coming soon, where we will discuss the particulars of the case and the outcome.

Resources

  1. Wetmore’s Minutes of the Trial from the Legal Papers of John Adams
  2. The Boston Gazette wherein Otis offended Robinson
  3. A 10-minute video explaining the lead up, event and aftermath of the Boston Massacre
Posted in From Our Collections

“My conscience presses me on”: John Quincy Adams and the Amistad Case, 1839–1842

By Neal Millikan, Series Editor for Digital Editions, The Adams Papers

Transcriptions of more than 1,400 pages of John Quincy Adams’s diary have just been added to the John Quincy Adams Digital Diary, a born-digital edition of the Adams Papers editorial project at the Massachusetts Historical Society. The new material spans the period January 1839 through December 1842 and chronicle Adams’s involvement with the Amistad court case as he also continued serving in the United States House of Representatives.

In July 1839, fifty-three Africans revolted aboard the Spanish slave ship Amistad as they were being transported by their enslavers from Havana to another Cuban port. During the revolt, the Africans killed the ship’s captain and another crew member, demanding to be returned to Mendiland (now Sierra Leone). However, the remaining Amistad crew were able to divert the vessel from its course. On 24 August a U.S. revenue cutter seized the Amistad off Long Island and brought it into the port of New London, Connecticut. The Africans were imprisoned at New Haven, Connecticut, while their case moved through the U.S. District and Circuit Courts.

woodcut print, man, chair, table
John Quincy Adams, woodcut of a painting by Alonzo Chappel

While he offered opinions and advice on the Amistad case as early as September 1839, John Quincy Adams did not take a formal role until a year later. Abolitionists visited the former president at his home in Quincy on 27 October 1840 and convinced him to join the Amistad defense team when the case went before the U.S. Supreme Court. In his diary, Adams noted his reluctance to provide further legal counsel. “I endeavoured to excuse myself upon the plea of my age and inefficiency—of the oppressive burden of my duties as a member of the House of Representatives, and my inexperience after a lapse of more than thirty years . . . before judicial tribunals.” However, the abolitionists “urged me so much and represented the case of those unfortunate men as so critical, it being a case of life and death, that I yielded.”

The trial opened in February 1841. John Quincy Adams began his oral arguments for the defense on the 24th, speaking for “four hours and a half, with sufficient method and order to witness little flagging of attention, by the judges or the auditory.” Pleased with his performance, he modestly assessed: “I did not I could not answer public expectation—but I have not yet utterly failed.” Adams returned to the court on 1 March to conclude his argument on behalf of the Amistad Africans and spoke for another four hours. The court’s opinion, delivered on 9 March, ruled that the Africans were free and could return home.

printed page
Title page of John Quincy Adams’ Amistad argument before the Supreme Court, 1841

As he revised for publication his oral arguments in the Amistad case, John Quincy Adams mused in his diary on the current state of the emancipation cause in the United States. “The world, the flesh, and all the devils in hell are arrayed against any man, who now, in this North-American Union, shall dare to join the standard of Almighty God, to put down” the issue of slavery. He lamented that his own physical infirmities prevented him from doing more to further the cause. “What can I, upon the verge of my seventy-fourth birth-day, with a shaking hand, a darkening eye, a drowsy brain, and with all my faculties, dropping from me, one by one, as the teeth are dropping from my head . . . what can I do for the cause of God and Man? for the progress of human emancipation? . . . Yet my conscience presses me on.” The following year, Adams recorded that his continued opposition to slavery produced considerably different reactions in the North and South. While northerners routinely wrote to him asking for an autograph, the letters he received from southerners often contained “insult, profane obscenity and filth.”

For more on John Quincy Adams’s life, navigate to the entries to begin reading his diary. The addition of material for the 1839–1842 period joins existing transcriptions of Adams’s diary for his legal, political, and diplomatic careers (1789–1817), his time as secretary of state (1817–1825), his presidency (1825–1829), and his early years in the House of Representatives (1830–1838) and brings the total number of transcriptions freely available on the MHS website to more than 9,800 pages.

The Adams Papers editorial project at the Massachusetts Historical Society gratefully acknowledges the generous support of our sponsors. Major funding for the John Quincy Adams Digital Diary was provided by the Amelia Peabody Charitable Fund, with additional contributions by Harvard University Press and a number of private donors. The Andrew W. Mellon Foundation in partnership with the National Historical Publications and Records Commission also support the project through funding for the Society’s Primary Source Cooperative.

Posted in From Our Collections, MHS News Tagged ,

Behind the Scenes: Challenges in Processing

By Susan Martin, Senior Processing Archivist

box with loose papers
Before processing

For today’s blog, I’d like to give you a behind-the-scenes peek at the work of archivists, specifically some of the small challenges we face in processing and preserving manuscripts for researchers. Collections come to us in all shapes, sizes, and physical conditions. While the work is interesting and rewarding, you may be surprised how long it takes to get a collection ready for use. Here are a few of the issues that make our jobs a little harder.

First, let’s talk about processing. Processing involves physically arranging a collection and describing its contents in a catalog record or collection guide. Imagine taking the carton shown above, removing all the letters from their envelopes, arranging them chronologically, identifying correspondents and subjects, etc. So, what are the most common hurdles?

Letter
An undated letter
  1. Undated manuscripts. I give this issue pride of place in my list because of how common and how frustrating it is. Archivists may be able to date a letter based on a postmark (if we still have the envelope), a partial date, or internal clues, such as the passing mention of a recent event. The black border on the letter pictured here tells us a relative of the writer has recently died. However, archivists don’t read all the letters in a collection and seldom have time to do the digging necessary to date undated letters.
  2. Unattributed manuscripts. I’ve seen this primarily with diaries, which is understandable. After all, most people probably don’t think their diaries will ever be read by anyone else. (God forbid!) But so much information is lost without this context. Who was this person? What experiences did they live through? Like letters, diaries can often be identified with some investigation, but it’s time-consuming.
  3. Unidentified photographs. I wrote a few years ago about processing a large collection of family photographs and having to identify the baby pictures of three sisters who looked almost identical. We see so many terrific photographs come through our doors, it’s a shame when we can’t tell you who’s in them.
paper
This word is “some,” believe it or not
  1. Difficult/illegible handwriting. Archivists get better at this with practice, but it never really stops being tricky. If you’re responsible for processing a large collection of someone’s papers, you’ll become intimately familiar with their handwriting and the way they form certain letters, but then you’ll move on to the next collection and start all over again. Centuries-old writing sometimes barely even looks like English.
paper, letter
An example of cross-writing
  1. Cross-writing. It was very common for correspondents, when they were running out of space but had a little more to say, to return to the first page and write across it at a 90-degree angle, as shown in this letter by Margaret Fuller. In this example, the end of the letter is right on top of the beginning. I’ve seen many variations of this, including writers who scribble along the margins or even turn a letter upside down and write in the gaps between the lines.
  2. Duplicate copies. For modern collections, one of the biggest problems is excessive duplication. A collection, particularly the records of an organization, will usually contain multiple photocopies of documents that take up unnecessary space and need to be weeded.

Next up is preservation, the key to the long-term survival of our collections. Preservation encompasses everything from conservation—the physical repair of individual documents—to temperature and humidity control, light management, and the selection of acid-free enclosures. It also includes all the little steps we processing archivists take to ensure that a given document lasts as long as possible.

Papers, newspaper clipping
Newspaper stains the papers it touches
  1. Acidic paper. Newspaper clippings, as they deteriorate, will not only become more brittle themselves, but they’ll also emit acid that does the same thing to the papers that touch it. You’ll see the pattern of staining on documents that have lived next to clippings for a period of time. It’s not just newspapers, either; the same kind of poor-quality wood-pulp paper was used for telegrams and some 20th-century copy paper. MHS archivists generally, time-permitting, photocopy newspaper clippings and remove the originals, or at least isolate any acidic paper.
  2. Onion-skin paper. This unmistakable thin paper was common in airmail because of its light weight. It was also used for carbon copies of typed business correspondence. The ink on these copies is frequently faint to the point of illegibility, and the paper tears very easily.
Paper, handwriting
Rust from metal fasteners
  1. Metal fasteners. Ah, staples and paper clips. I often think archivists should be sure to keep up with their tetanus shots. Some past recordkeepers even used straight pins to attach pages together. And if a collection has been kept in a damp and/or warm environment before coming to the MHS, the rust (and rust stains) resulting from these metal fasteners can be epic. Rubber bands get an honorable mention here, too, because as they dry and harden, they will also stain paper. When fasteners are necessary, we use plastic paper clips.
  2. Post-it® notes, tape, and other forms of adhesive are dangerous for paper even after they’ve been removed. Some residue of the adhesive remains on the paper and will damage it over time. Best to avoid them altogether.
Books
Deteriorated leather bindings
  1. Red rot. Red rot is what happens to leather that has been exposed to humidity and/or high temperatures. This image shows how poor the condition of leather-bound volumes can become. Red rot is also, as any archivist or special collections librarian can tell you, a huge mess; it will crumble onto shelves, desks, your clothes, everything. Volumes that are literally falling to pieces can’t be handled by researchers, so the MHS measures each volume and orders custom-fitted cases.
  2. Organic material. More than a few collections contain other forms of organic material, such as leaves and flowers pressed into volumes, as well as locks of human hair. These items are removed.

This is only a partial list; I haven’t mentioned digital records or issues related to the reference side of things. If my fellow archivists or librarians out there want to add anything in the comments, you’re more than welcome!

Box with folders
The finished product
Posted in From Our Collections 1 Comment

“How will he support life without her”: John without Abigail

By Gwen Fries, Adams Papers

Abigail Adams’s death on 28 Oct. 1818 represented a cosmic shift in the Adamses’ universe. As her daughter-in-law Louisa Catherine Adams explained, Abigail was “the guiding Planet around which all revolved, performing their separate duties only by the impulse of her magnetic power.”

Though her death touched every member of the family, John Quincy Adams, then in Washington, D.C., knew his 83-year-old father would be the most affected. On 1 November, having received notice that his mother was gravely ill, he wrote in his diary, “Oh! what must it be to my father, and how will he support life without her who has been to him its charm?”

The next day, John Quincy received confirmation of his mother’s death. He retired to his chamber to weep and then reflected on what this loss would mean to his father.

“She had been fifty four years the delight of my father’s heart; the sweetener of all his toils—the comforter of all his sorrows; the sharer and heightener of all his joys— It was but the last time when I saw my father that he told me . . . that in all the vicissitudes of his fortunes, through all the good Report, and evil Report of the World; in all his struggles, and in all his sorrows the affectionate participation, and cheering encouragement of his wife, had been his never failing support; without which he was sure he should never have lived through them.”

John Quincy wrote to his father, lamenting their mutual loss and assuring his father it was “the dearest of his wishes to alleviate” John’s pain. “Let me hear from you, my dearest father; let me hear from you soon.” On 3 November, John Quincy repeated to his diary, “It is for him, and to hear from him that my anxiety now bears upon my mind.”

letter
John Adams to John Quincy Adams, 10 Nov. 1818

On 10 November, John Adams responded to his “ever dear, ever affectionate, ever dutiful and deserving Son.” He wrote that “The bitterness of Death is past. The grim Spector So terrible to human Nature has no Sting left for me.” Knowing John Quincy was agonized to be separated from his father at such a painful juncture, John reassured him that “the Sympathy and Benevolence of all the World, has been Such as I Shall not live long enough to describe” and that his “consolations are more than I can number.”

John Quincy wrote to his last-surviving sibling, Thomas Boylston Adams, on 22 November. “I have received a short Letter from our dear and honoured father, and have heard from various quarters of the fortitude with which he has met the most distressing of calamities. Knowing his character as I do this was what I expected.” John Quincy confided to his brother that he still fretted for their father. “The struggle which is not apparent to the world, is not the less but the more trying within— Watch over his health, my dear brother with unremitting, though if possible to him imperceptible attention. Assist him with unwearied assiduity in the management of his affairs; and always according to his own deliberate opinions and wishes.” He stressed this last point. “Let the study of every one around him be to gratify his wishes, according to his ideas, and not according to their own.”

Indeed, John Adams had lost the person who most carefully watched over his health and affairs, but it was the loss of Abigail’s constant company and conversation John felt most severely. Though Adams put on a brave face for his family—his letters from this period are filled with levity and self-deprecating jokes—his boredom and loneliness saturate the page.

John Quincy couldn’t leave Washington, so he dispatched his eldest son, George Washington Adams, to Peacefield during Harvard’s winter break. “He is fond of your company,” John Quincy wrote to his son. “You can render yourself very serviceable to him; and . . . you can be in no possible situation better adapted to the improvement of your heart and the cultivation of your Understanding than with him.”

In December 1818, the bereaved patriarch and his grandson embarked on a project that thrills the heart of this editor. The two Adamses tore Peacefield apart in search of family papers. “Trunks Boxes Desks Drawers locked up for thirty Years have been broken open because the Keys are lost. Nothing Stands in my Way. Every Scrap Shall be found and preserved.”

letter
John Adams to John Quincy Adams, 24 Dec. 1818

 

Though John Adams had been kicking around Peacefield since 1801, it was the loss of Abigail that stimulated this frenzied search. Perhaps her death made him reflect on his own mortality and legacy. Perhaps he just needed a project to keep him busy. But I wonder if the quest to find old family letters wasn’t a grieving widower seeking the company and conversation of his dearest friend.

The Adams Papers editorial project at the Massachusetts Historical Society gratefully acknowledges the generous support of our sponsors. Major funding is provided by the National Endowment for the Humanities, the National Historical Publications and Records Commission, and the Packard Humanities Institute. The Florence Gould Foundation and a number of private donors also contribute critical support. All Adams Papers volumes are published by Harvard University Press. Major funding for the John Quincy Adams Digital Diary was provided by the Amelia Peabody Charitable Fund. Harvard University Press and a number of private donors also contributed crucial support.

Posted in From Our Collections Tagged

Plant Antics of the Adams Family in the MHS Archives

By Heather Rockwood, Communications Associate

When I look through the archives of the MHS, I find myself laughing a lot. Not everything is funny, of course, but enough to remind you that these towering figures from history were, in fact, human beings that made mistakes and experienced awkward situations, just like anyone else. I’ve gathered a few stories revolving around plants that I hope you enjoy as much as I do.

In his diary on 6 June 1771, John Adams recounts what I took to be an exaggerated and funny tale about eating fruit, told by his friend Mr. William Barrell. In the end, Adams moralizes that it’s a wholesome way to eat:

“Barrell this Morning at Breakfast entertained Us with an Account of his extravagant Fondness for Fruit. When he lived at New market he could get no fruit but Strawberries, and he used frequently to eat 6 Quarts in a Day. At Boston, in the very hottest of the Weather he breakfasts upon Water Melons—neither Eats nor drinks any Thing else for Breakfast. In the Season of Peaches he buys a Peck, every Morning, and eats more than half of them himself. In short he eats so much fruit in the Season of it that he has very little Inclination to any other Food. He never found any Inconvenience or ill Effect from fruit— enjoys as much Health as any Body. Father Dana is immoderately fond of fruit, and from several other Instances one would conclude it very wholsome.”

More from John Adams, this time when he was in Paris on 7 December 1779 on a diplomatic mission, when he had an unfortunate experience with caustic nut oil:

“Yesterday the Chevr. de la Molion gave me some Nuts which he call’d Noix d’Acajou. They are the same which I have often seen, and which were called Cooshoo Nuts. The true name is Acajou Nuts. They are shaped like our large white Beans. The outside Shell has an Oil in it that is corrosive, caustic, or burning. In handling one of these Shells enough to pick out the meat I got a little of this oyl on my fingers, and afterwards inadvertently rubbing my Eyes, especially my Left, I soon found the Lids swelled and inflamed up to my Eyebrow.”

If you have ever handled spicy food then rubbed your eye, I know you are cringing as much as I did when I read that!

Abigail Adams is famous for inoculating her children for smallpox while her husband was away at the Continental Congress in 1776. This was cutting edge medicinal science at the time. So, when her mother-in-law  took to carrots as a way to heal an arm sore, she did not believe it would work. However, in this letter to John on 21 February 1796, she remarks on the potential of carrots to heal this type of malady, perhaps as a joke.

“Tho I have not seen her since, I saw her Arm last week. There is not the appearance of a Soar upon it. It is matter of surprize and proves the powerfull efficacy of carrots in such cases as the rose kind.”

On 18 October 1820, John Quincy Adams was enjoying an evening with friends, including a beautiful young woman, when he was teased and challenged to come up with a poem about myrtle and geranium leaves for an album they were creating together. However, he disappointed the group, as he was unable to come up with anything imaginative on the spot. Afterwards, Adams notes that what was especially mortifying for him was the young woman’s impression of him as a man with an “inability” to produce a poem. Although he admits “I produce no impromptus,” later that night, he did write a poem for his friends to place in the album:

“Leaves of unfading verdure! here remain!
Myrtle of beauty! still thy place retain!
Still o’er the page, your hope-ting’d foliage spread;
Imprison’d still, your genial fragrance shed.
But Oh! could language, worthy of the theme,
Give instant utterance to fond fancy’s dream;
When your frail forms, her gentle hand shall raise,
The page should blossom with perennial praise:
A sweeter fragrance than your own should rise”

The Adams family may have been prominent, learned, worldly, and presidential, but these stories revolving around plants found in the MHS archives, are examples of the ways they could also be simply human. Perhaps what we can learn from the above is to always eat your carrots and fruit, and be careful which nut shells you handle—or, at least, don’t rub your eye afterwards!

Posted in From Our Collections Tagged 1 Comment

Call For Judges: NHD Massachusetts Regional Competitions Have Gone Virtual!

Deadline: Wednesday, 22 February 2022

A picture containing text, person, indoor
National History Day in Massachusetts

It’s time again for National History Day in Massachusetts! Our students and teachers are hard at work on their “Debate and Diplomacy in History” themed exhibits, performances, documentaries, websites, and essays.

Want to support our students and learn a wide array of interesting histories? Volunteer from home as a judge for one of our Virtual Regional competitions! We need your help to provide quality judging and a great contest experience for the students. Not only will you support our NHD MA students, but you will have the opportunity to learn about a wide array of histories. No prior experience required, just a love of history!

Our 2022 Regional Competitions will be held virtually this year. Judging for our South Shore competition will take place on Saturday, 5 March, and our Greater Boston competition will take place on Sunday, 6 March. Judges will receive project materials a week in advance, and on their contest day will meet with other judges to review and provide feedback. After judging is completed, judges will then join students, teachers, and parents for a Reflection Roundtable as students discuss their research process and discoveries.

To learn more about judging and to register for one of our competitions, visit our Judges page! For more information about NHD in Massachusetts and to see examples of past projects, visit our website or e-mail us at nhd@masshist.org.

Posted in MHS News

Subject Guides at the MHS

By Susan Martin, Senior Processing Archivist

I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce our Beehive readers to an exciting project at the MHS. In an effort to draw attention to collections that contain material documenting historically underrepresented populations, library staff have added four new subject guides to our website. They describe items and collections related to African American history; Native American history; the history of sexuality, including LGBTQ+ populations; and the history of the economically disenfranchised.

table of text
New subject guides cataloged in ABIGAIL

This is a relatively new endeavor for the MHS. Of course, we have hundreds of guides available at our website, but they describe the contents of individual collections. We use these guides to explain a collection’s organizational scheme and assist researchers to locate specific material. The four new guides serve a different purpose. They bring together material from across MHS collections, and with them we hope to highlight the lives and experiences of individuals traditionally overlooked or undervalued in the historical record.

The subject guides are similar but not uniform. The guide to African American resources, first written over fifteen years ago, was substantially revised just a few months ago. It contains a fairly comprehensive overview of material related to enslavement, freedom seekers, the antislavery movement, and emancipation; the colonization movement; African Americans in the American Revolution and the Civil War; African American organizations and education; civil rights; and other subjects. Its contents are grouped chronologically by era.

Collections listed in the guide to Native American resources are arranged within general subject areas, such as “The Land,” “Missions to Native Americans,” “Diplomacy and Warfare,” etc. The guide covers many aspects of Indigenous life, society, governance, and history. Staff members made significant efforts to identify specific individuals and nations where possible, and we particularly wanted to highlight manuscripts, artwork, and artifacts created by Indigenous people.

The guide to the history of sexuality takes the form of an alphabetical list. Included is material related to sexual desire and behavior, sexual and gender nonconformity, courtship, pre- and extra-marital sex, gay rights, sex work, birth control and abortion, pregnancy and childbirth, and other subjects. This guide is necessarily less comprehensive than the others, as the MHS holds thousands of collections of family papers, and most of them cover, to some degree, topics like courtship, marriage, childbirth, etc.

This guide also proved challenging for another reason. It can be difficult to determine the exact nature of relationships between people who leave an incomplete historical record or who had to be circumspect because of stigma or prejudicial laws. The parameters of relationships have also changed over the years, as has the language used to describe them.

The last of the new subject guides covers the history of the economically disenfranchised. Like the guide to Native American resources, it’s organized into broad subject areas so that similar collections appear together. Most MHS material on this subject documents the work of charitable organizations and reflects the class prejudices of the time, but you’ll still find some fascinating details about the lived experiences of impoverished communities. The guide also identifies some first-hand accounts of poverty and hardship.

These four new subject guides—along with our list of presidential letters at the MHS—include links to available collection guides and/or catalog records, so researchers can easily begin requesting material.

Researchers have always been able to use our online catalog ABIGAIL, of course, to search for collections by subject, but a catalog requires controlled vocabulary—that is, subject terms defined by an authority, such as the Library of Congress. The choice of words and the format of these access points must be consistent to be useful. Our new subject guides, however, allow us to include more detailed contextual information, use our own terminology, explain how collections relate to each other, and draw attention to material that may not otherwise get the attention it deserves.

The MHS will continue to collect in all of these subject areas, and additional relevant material will undoubtedly be uncovered in collections we already hold, so the subject guides will be revised as needed. We also hope to create more of these kinds of resources to assist and encourage research into other underrepresented populations.

My heartfelt thanks to everyone who helped with this project!

Posted in From Our Collections

“Because of Epidemic”: Diaries Kept During the 1918 Influenza Pandemic

By Rakashi Chand (she/hers), Senior Library Assistant

The COVID-19 Pandemic continues to loom over all aspects of our lives—well past the point any of us initially imagined—and our patience wears thin. Many wonder if there will ever be a return to ‘normal’.

In researching the diaries of people who survived the 1918 influenza pandemic, it is apparent that after a public health emergency was declared to stop the spread of the influenza, things seemed to settle and daily routines resumed.

Two collections at the MHS show how people managed, survived, and thrived during and after the 1918 Influenza Pandemic: the Eleanor Shumway diaries, 1913-1918 and the Clara E. Currier diaries, 1918-1932. In the diaries kept by Shumway and Currier there is one striking commonality. Both diarists record that on 29 September 1918 everything shuts down ‘on account of’ or ‘because of’ the Epidemic.

The Eleanor Shumway diaries consist of two diaries kept by Eleanor Shumway of Newton, Mass. while she was in her late teens and early twenties. The collection was acquired in October 2020. It accompanies the Eleanor Shumway scrapbook already held by the MHS, and the Eleanor Shumway photographs removed from the Eleanor Shumway Scrapbook. Entries in the diaries primarily describe her social activities, lessons at Newton High School, sports and other recreation, church and Sunday School attendance, and family matters. Beginning 16 September 1918, entries describe Shumway’s training as a nurse at Peter Bent Brigham Hospital.

book cover
Eleanor Shumway Line-A-Day Diary, cover

From 1914 to 1917 Eleanor consistently wrote in her Line-A-Day diary, but in 1918 she was not as consistent. Her entries trail off on 31 May 1918 and are left blank until 16 September when Eleanor records:

“Mon. Entered P.B. Brigham Hospital. Madeline Wentworth and I room together in a funny apartment house on Wigglesworth Street. 26 in our class. Very nice girls. 3 other girls on our floor.”

On 17 September she writes:

“Tues. Great time getting into our uniforms and over to breakfast at 6:40. Books were given out and we were given rules and regulations. In eve Madeline, Gertrude [–] and I walked up Parker Hill.”

18 September through the 26 September are left blank.

On 27 September 1918 Eleanor records only one line:

“Fri. Carried trays and took temperatures.”

28 September 1918:

“Sat. Carried trays for past [week? Hour] Got 1 O’Clock car home. Walked down street with mother and Mrs. Shute. In eve-ning wrote letters.”

On 29 September 1918, Eleanor notes the epidemic:

“Sun. Slept late. No Church because of Epidemic. Went to dinner at Taylors. May & [–] & I went to walk in woods. Came back at 10 with Madeline.”

handwritten text, book
Eleanor Shumway diary entry for September 29, 1918

30 September 1918:

“Mon. Patient for bed [evaluating] in PM. Madeline and I went down town. Did errands & went for dinner at café de Paris. Walked home & studied in eve.”

1 October 1918:

“Tues. Cleaned House. Beat rugs. Patient for Bed [making/walking] P. M. Madeline and I walked over to Coolidge Corner. Got eats and walked back. [–] supper. Danced in evening.”

The days go on filled with studying, exams, walks to Coolidge corner, dinners and even trips to the Orpheum Theatre. Life returned even more so as Eleanor wrote on 11 November 11 1918:

“Mon. End of the War. Fighting stopped at 6AM. Everyone wild with Joy. Bells rang, whistles the all day. Went in town with Mad. Stayed un till 7. Then went home. [–] The town had a victory parade.”

Again, the entries continue with walks, dinners, and nursing exams, until 12 December when Eleanor writes:

“Fri. Wallace Seaward died of influenza..”

handwritten text, page of diary
Eleanor Shumway diary page, December 12th 1918

After a few more diary entries, mostly about Eleanor’s nursing exams, the last entry in the Line-A-Day diary is on 18 December 1918:

“Wed. Did lab work all day long. Dissected a frog in anatomy. In P. M> went down town to do errands. Didn’t accomplish much. Met Gerty & had a sundae at Baileys. Met [Stanley] May. Slept in Mary Ellen’s room.”

 

The Clara E. Currier diaries consist of three paperbound diaries kept by Clara E. Currier of Haverhill, Mass. (1 July 1918 to 31 December 1919, 1 January 1925 to 31 March 1926, and 1 January 1928 to 1932. Brief entries describe her daily activities; social calls; letters written and received; church and Sunday School attendance; sewing, gardening, and canning; sightings of early airplanes; attendance at minstrel shows; events such as eclipses and earthquakes; her attack of measles in 1925; family matters; and the weather. In 1918, Currier references the influenza epidemic and the end of World War I. The Clara E. Currier diaries were acquired in September of 2020.

book
Cover, Clara E. Currier diary 1918-1919

While most entries describe the weather, daily activities, meeting friends and family, and efforts to assist the Red Cross, beginning in September we start to see entries that reflect the impact of the Influenza Pandemic in Haverhill, Mass. On 22 September 1918, Clara writes:

“Went to Church morning and evening and S.S. A pleasant autumn day. Ada called, went to the Y.W.C.A. with flowers for Ethel who is sick with gripe or Influenza.”

On 29 September  1918, Clara mentions the epidemic:

“A beautiful day. No Church on account of Epidemic. Schools and theatres closed for the week. Took a little walk and called on Alice B. Laisdall. Wrote to Elsie and Mary.”

handwritten text
Clara E. Currier Diary page inclusive of September 29, 1918 entry

Skipping ahead a few days, the next mention on the epidemic is on Saturday, 5 October:

“A dull day. Went down town on errands. Influenza still raging.”

The days of October and November are filled with crocheting, dress making, jam making and calling on friends – and sometimes calling on friends while going to volunteer at the Kenoza Base hospital, which at the time was set up for Influenza patients.

On 7 December, she mentions being sick though she does not identify her sickness as influenza:

“A cold day. Awful tired and lame.”

8 December 1918:

“A dull day. Went to church in the a.m. and S.S. Am not feeling well. Wrote to Elsie and Mary.”

9 December 1918:

“A pleasant day. Don’t feel much better. Crocheted and knit a little.”

December 10, 1918:

“A beautiful winter day. Felling better but not very strong. Did a little sewing. Had a letter from Mary.”

handwritten text
Clara E. Currier Diary page describing her illness, December 1918

Clara recovered from her illness, and continued canning, sewing, and paying visits to friends. Based solely on the number of days she was ill, we can likely conclude that Clara was sick with and overcame the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

For more blog posts featuring diaries and letters about the 1918 Influenza pandemic please see  100 Years after the Influenza Pandemic | Beehive (masshist.org) and The Human Element in War & Disease: The Emerson P. Dibble Papers | Beehive (masshist.org).

For further research, please search our library catalog ABIGAIL. Learn more about visiting the library.

Posted in From Our Collections

This Week @MHS

Here is a look at the virtual events we have planned this week:

On Tuesday, 1 February, at 5:15 PM: The American Funding with Katie Moore, University of California, Santa Barbara; Ann Daly, Mississippi State University; and comment by Simon Middleton, The College of William & Mary.

This panel discussion will consider two papers on the history of money from the mid-18th through the early 19th centuries. Katie Moore’s essay will examine the political, economic, and monetary preconditions that informed the colonial Massachusetts land bank “controversy.” While previous scholars have linked the land bank to parallel events such as the Great Awakening or to the coming of the American Revolution, this paper reappraises it as a solution to the dull demand for labor that shaped Massachusetts’ economic decline after Queen Anne’s War and imperial restrictions that prohibited the colony from issuing its own currency after 1741. Ann Daly’s essay will then consider the cultural construction of monetary value in the antebellum US through two approaches to valuing individual coins. Known as the ‘science of real money,’ the first was a system of scientific analysis developed by federal scientists at the US Mint for elite capitalists. At the same time, lower-class Americans developed a competing, sensory approach to assessing coinage. Whether they deployed scientific assessment or embodied inquiry, all Americans needed to gather knowledge to protect themselves from bad money. This event is part of the Pauline Maier Early American History Seminar series. Register for this online event.

On Thursday, 3 February, at 3:30 PM: MHS Mid-Year Fellows Meeting.

MHS Fellows are invited to this mid-year meeting to discuss proposed bylaws changes and vote. All elected MHS Fellows are encouraged to attend. The meeting will be held online and in-person so that more people can participate in the discussion. Please note, that only those participating in-person will be able to vote. Register to attend online or register to attend in person.

Visit www.masshist.org/events for a complete schedule of events. If you missed a program or would like to revisit the material presented, please visit www.masshist.org/video or our YouTube channel. A selection of past programs is just a click away.

Posted in This Week @MHS

Tagore Letters at the MHS

By Rakashi Chand, Senior Library Assistant

MHS library staff members answer reference questions from far and near through e-mail, chat, mail, social media, and by phone on a daily basis. While working on one such reference question, I needed to consult a box from the Ellery Sedgwick papers. Sedgwick was the Editor of America’s most noteworthy literary magazine in the early 20th century, the Atlantic Monthly. As I read through the names of correspondents in the collection guide, one name jumped out at me. This was a name that I know well but never thought I would see at the MHS: Rabindranath Tagore. ‘Could this be?’ I thought to myself. As an Indian-American raised in the United States, I have always admired Tagore so I was astounded by this serendipitous discovery.  

Ranidranath Tagore was and is India’s literary giant. Tagore was awarded the Nobel prize for literature in 1913, the first non-European to be awarded a Nobel Prize, in any category. Tagore was knighted by King George V in 1915. He renounced the knighthood in 1919 in response to the Jallianwala Bagh Massacre when British troops gunned down hundreds of innocent Indians. A supreme hyphenate, Tagore was a poet, writer, spiritualist, and artist, and he wrote the Indian national anthem. Tagore helped define the culture of modern India. He represented India in his travels and lectures around the world, not as a British colony, but as a unique country with a long history, rich culture, and a diverse people. Cumulatively, Tagore spent the greatest amount of time outside of India in the United States over a series of three trips.  

I eagerly awaited the arrival of the offsite box and was filled with elation when it arrived.  The letters, five in total, plus one from his private secretary, span the years 1914 to 1930.  

Most of the letters discuss submissions to be published in the Atlantic Monthly. One letter dated 12 October 1930 was very unusual and intriguing. In it Tagore writes to Sedgwick as a friend seeking guidance on how to handle the American media. In this letter, Tagore reveals his thoughts not only about his experience of coming to America, but what he feels as an Indian in America at that moment in time trying the grasp and understand American culture. The letter is magnificent in depth, intimacy, and detail. Please see below for an unofficial transcription. The letterhead is of Williamstown, Mass. where Tagore would have been staying at the time.  

handwritten text, letter
Rabindranath Tagore to Ellery Sedgwick, 12 October 1930

Williamstown 

Massachusetts Oct. 12, 1930 

My Dear Mr. Ellery Sedgwick, 

Some time ago while travelling in Europe I got your letter and in a fury of movement I completely forgot that I had not answered it. Can you forgive me? 

I hope I shall be able to elbow my way to a meeting with you while I am here and shall have the opportunity of a talk. In the meanwhile I ask your friendly advice in my present state of helpless bewilderment. Let me state my case in brief. 

Directly my steamer came to the dock in New York, my cabin was invaded by a host of strangers before I could guess their intention and adequately prepare myself for the attack. In my own country I am used to  such unannounced and unforeseen catastrophe. We are a democratic people with our doors open to all kinds and conditions of men. My position in the world offers no barricade against intrusion into my privacy, interruption of my work or disturbance of my peace of mind. So with a spirit of resignation which has become habitual to me, I silently suffered these unexpected guests of mine to fill up all of the available space in my cabin. At first, in my pathetic vanity, I though it was deputation from some committee which tried in its own manner to express its obligation to offer me welcome at the moment of my reaching your shore. But their object was made clear to me when they brandished their pencils and notebooks and began to question me about matters that were personal to myself or that concerned my own country. I meekly accepted the inevitable decree of my fate and did my best to satisfy their curiosity in as clear a language as was in my ability to use. Let me assure you that I did not court this publicity nor did I appreciate it as a favour. However, the next day to my painful surprise I found in the first newspaper that came to my hands my words twisted to give a contrary suggestion to what I tried to convey to them. Then I came to know from my friends that several other newspapers have followed the same track of misinterpretation on questions vitally important for my people and for the cause of truth. I am sorely puzzled. I cannot ascribe this to a sudden epidemic of unintelligence among the American reporters and my vanity forbids me to think that I failed to make my meaning clear specially on points which would lead to mischief if vaguely expressed. I fully know that all earlier misinformations have the advantage over the contradictions that follow later as the wound creates a deeper impression than the bandage. And yet I did send my own original version to one of the most important of these papers and waited for its appearance on the next morning. But I find that they are not as prompt in publishing the correction as they have been in giving currency to the wrong statement. I am a simple man from the East and I hate to carry in my mind distrust against any section of your community specially the one whose duty it is to supply information to the public. I tell you truly it has made me feel afraid, for I do not know the technique of your public life and it tires me to be always on my guard. I am beginning to feel like a pedestrian from my country trying to walk in his own absent-minded manner in some busy street in New York and suddenly finding some necessary portions of his limbs disappearing in the dust. I only wish I could laugh at my misadventure, but that has become impossible even for an oriental philosopher owing to its extremely mischievous nature. I have come to the conclusion that the only place which is safe for the eastern simpleton is his own remote corner of obscurity. Waiting for some advice and consolation from you 

I remain 

Very sincerely yours 

Rabindranath Tagore 

 

Sent from:  

Buxton Hill 

Williamstown 

Massachusetts 

handwritten text, letter
Page 2 of letter from Rabindranath Tagore to Ellery Sedgwick, 12 October 1930
handwritten text, letter
Page 3 of letter from Rabindranath Tagore to Ellery Sedgwick, 12 October 1930
handwritten text, letter
Final page of letter from Rabindranath Tagore to Ellery Sedgwick, 12 October 1930

This poetic letter reveals so much about Tagore and his experience in America and with the American public. Tagore embarked on his journeys to connect with to learn as much as possible about people across the globe, while also sharing the wealth of culture, philosophy, ideology and art from his own country, a country fighting for freedom against colonial oppression. 

This letter and so much more can be found at the MHS. Please reach out for more information about visiting the library. For further reading on collections held at the Society related to the history of India, please see our blog post Boston to Bombay*: Historical Connections between Massachusetts and India | Beehive (masshist.org).

Posted in From Our Collections