Count Rumford, or Benjamin Thompson Jr., was born in Woburn, Massachusetts, on 26 March 1753. He went to school in Woburn and Byfield and attended Harvard classes, apprenticed to a doctor for a short time and to a merchant. During his apprenticeships he gained refinement and an interest in science. In 1772, he married Sarah Rolfe, a rich and well-connected widow. Her late husband left her property in Rumford, New Hampshire (now Concord), but after marrying, the couple moved to Portsmouth and had a daughter two years later, whom they named Sarah.
When the American Revolution started, Thompson was a loyalist, and although his wife’s connections got him an appointment as a major in the New Hampshire militia, he acted as a British intelligence agent and recruiter for the British army. His activities became known, and a mob attacked his house. He escaped, abandoning his wife and child. For the rest of the war, he led the king’s American Dragoon’s on Long Island and conducted scientific experiments on gunpowder. The results of his work were published in 1781, in Philosophical Transactions, solidifying his early scientific acclaim. When the war ended in 1783, he left the United States, never to return. In England, King George III knighted him, and in 1785 he moved to Bavaria where he undertook projects for Prince-elector Charles Theodore, including cultivating the potato and creating the Englischer Garten park that still exists today. He also continued his scientific research, for which he was made an Imperial Count, Reichsgraf von Rumford, named for the New Hampshire town of his marriage.
Count Rumford spent eleven years in Bavaria conducting scientific research, the most important of which was a contentious theory that heat was not caloric but caused by motion. His research on this topic helped to later create the law of the conservation of energy in the 19th century.
So, how was Count Rumford connected to Rumford Baking Powder? He endowed the Rumford Chair and Lectureship on the Application of Science to the Useful Arts at Harvard, under which Eben Horsford was employed. Eben Horsford also built statues to Leif Erikson, but that’s a different blog.
What happened to Count Rumford’s wife and daughter? And where did he go after those eleven years in Bavaria? Stay tuned for part 2, where we connect this story to the MHS’s archival documents.
Count Rumford, Rumford Baking Powder, Rumford, NH, Rumford, RI, and the Rumford Professor at Harvard University, Part 2: He Loves Her, He Hates Her
This is Part Two of a three-part series on architecture at the MHS. You can find Part One here.
If you’ve ever done research at the Massachusetts Historical Society, you’ve spent an afternoon (or ten) in the reading room, officially known as Ellis Hall. Your eyes, when not glued to the materials you were consulting, may have wandered around the room or through the windows to get a break from cramped, crosswritten cursive. But did you know that this room is a historical resource of its own? And much easier on the eyes!
The current MHS building on Boylston Street was completed in 1899 by Edmund March Wheelwright in the Georgian Revival Style. Originating in the 18th century and revived as the 20th century approached, Georgian Revival relied heavily on the Classical details of the Greeks and Romans and emphasized symmetry. Looking around Ellis Hall, you can see these two characteristics on display.
Standing in the center of the room, one can see how each wall is framed by partial columns, just sticking out from the wall at regular intervals. These kind-of-columns are known as pilasters, a decorative element which create a feeling of structural strength and emphasize the wall itself. These pilasters are fluted, meaning they have deep grooves recalling the columns of ancient Greece or Rome.
Symmetry of the walls of Ellis Hall.
As they reach toward the ceiling, they end with fancy, curled tops. These tops are called capitals, and they have a variety of forms – some are simple and give the feeling of strength, while others have plant shapes and designs to feel light and natural. The curly capitals of the reading room are Ionic capitals, a middle ground that emphasizes both structural integrity and artistic precision. If the curls remind you of scrolls, they’re doing their job! (Remember, you’re in a historical society, after all.)
Keep looking upwards and spot the area where the walls meet the ceiling. There you’ll find an entablature, or a set of decorative bands. In classical architecture, entablatures were decorative sections on a lintel, or the long beam that went across columns and supported the roof.
An entablature typically has three sections, all visible in Ellis Hall. On the bottom is an architrave, which is decorated in the reading room with bead and reel and egg and dart patterns, both of which were used in the Greek and Roman periods. Following the architrave is the frieze, which can be decorated with moldings, paintings, or sculptures, but here it is rather simple and undecorated. This works well for the modern MHS, which uses the frieze to attach speakers and cameras during public programming. Finally, the entablature concludes with a cornice, or the portion that sticks forward into the room and reaches up to meet the ceiling. The cornice in Ellis Hall is decorated with larger bead and reel, and egg and dart patterns.
Above these patterns are numerous thick wooden blocks. These are known as dentils, literally meaning “little teeth,” since they look like little teeth sticking out of the wall. (Cool! Gross!) Dentils were commonly used in Ionic Greek architecture and contribute to the Classical feeling of the reading room. When ancient architects were building massive stone temples to outshine the earlier wooden constructions, they used dentils to represent the original timbers used in roof construction. So, when you look at those unassuming little blocks, remember that you’re looking at architects using wood to remind us of architects who used stone to remind us of architects who used wood. As with everything at the MHS, there are layers upon layers of history!
Detail of the wall in Ellis Hall. See if you can find the pilaster, capital, entablature, and dentils!
While Wheelwright used symmetry and Classical details to emphasize the philosophical, thoughtful nature of Greece and Rome, he also aimed to emphasize the enlightened, national feelings evoked by more recent constructions. The dark wood paneling of the room, the ornamented fireplace, and the door to the Orientation Room, all recall the Georgian Colonial style common across the homes of the wealthy during the Revolutionary period.
One key example can be found above the door to the orientation room. There, you’ll see another entablature, with the image of a bald eagle on its frieze and an egg and dart cornice. Above it, two pieces of wood curve towards each other, with a little box in the middle. This is a Georgian remix of a Greek feature, the pediment. On Greek structures, you may recall a triangular area between the lintel (decorated with an entablature) and the sloping roof. This area is called the pediment, and it is often recreated at smaller scales over doors or windows to make them seem fancier or more significant.
In the Georgian style, these pediments are often “broken” or separated in the middle. To get even fancier, these broken pediments were curved to look more natural, resembling the graceful necks of swans. As such, these pediments are called swan’s neck pediments, and you will see them all over colonial mansions if you keep your eye out. Many American swan’s neck pediments feature an ornament in the middle, such as a family crest or a bust, though ours are undecorated. These design features recall the earliest days of the American project, and the meticulously planned appearance of the homes of our founders. After all, if the papers of Jefferson and Adams are going to live here, shouldn’t it be a delightful place to stay?
A door in Ellis Hall. Can you find the frieze, the egg and dart pattern, and the swan’s neck pediment?
These are only a few details about the architecture of our favorite reading room. There is more to be seen in design above the mantel, for example, or the mysterious lizard living in our fireplace. But this brief overview will have to do for now. The next time you’re doing research at the MHS, take a moment to look at the room around you and consider why it looks the way it does. In Ellis Hall, the Georgian Revival blends Classical details and Georgian embellishments to make you feel thoughtful, enlightened, and curious. Architects like Wheelwright hide small secrets and reminders in every detail of the places we inhabit. Now that you know their names, can you hear what they’re saying?
When I began my fellowship at the MHS, I did not plan to find much in the collections about Louisa Jacobs (1833–1917), the subject of my research project. I was there to research the people she knew, especially in the African American community of the Boston area. Louisa Jacobs has previously only been a minor character in the writings about her mother, author Harriet Jacobs (1815-1897), who wrote Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861).
Kate Culkin, Jean Fagan Yellin’s Associate Editor for the Harriet Jacobs Family Papers (2008), once told me that “Louisa Jacobs was like a ghost—very difficult to find.” The comment struck a chord; my research for a biography of Louisa Jacobs seems a bit like ghost hunting. I see hints or tantalizing details, but little to add to what has already been found. Gradually, however, a more comprehensive understanding of Jacobs is emerging for me.
Louisa Jacobs is everywhere in Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, because her mother wrote about her daughter, using the pseudonym, Ellen. I began reading Incidents my first day as a Fellow at the MHS in 2023. Purchased in 1911 by the Society and inscribed “April 2, 1864” on the flyleaf, the book had once been owned by J. W. Clarke (perhaps John Willis Clarke, who wrote The Care of Books in 1901). Reading in the quiet comfort of Ellis Hall Reading Room makes me part of a shadowy community of people who over the course of 163 years have also read this very copy of the Jacobs’s family story.
Harriet Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861), Title Page. Massachusetts Historical Society. Call #E187.
Jacobs was more elusive in the sources of people she knew; many of them ghosted her. For example, in sixteen volumes of the diaries of Robert A. Boit, who married Lilian Willis, a member of a family deeply connected to Jacobs for over fifty years, he detailed his life and glued in his correspondence. He noted he took tea with Louisa Jacobs twice, but barely discussed her otherwise. He waited until her death to write, “She had great intelligence, a rare fancy & imagination, and a way of expressing herself that was quaintly and delightfully her own. Her letters were always interesting in their graceful and quite unusual turns of thought and of expression.” Did he save any of her letters? Not one.
Another example of ghosting appears in the collection of Reverend Samuel May, Jr., a Garrisonian abolitionist. May and his wife, Sarah, visited so-called “contraband camps” for freedpeople during the Civil War. They visited the Jacobs School in Alexandria, VA, where Louisa Jacobs taught. Did Samuel May note the visit in his memorandum book? No. Based on a letter Louisa wrote to Sarah May, published in the February 1865 National Anti-Slavery Standard, the Mays had continued soliciting donations for the school. But the Mays did not record their efforts.
One more example of ghosting Louisa Jacobs. In May 1865, Jacobs traveled with Hannah E. Stevenson and other women to Richmond, VA to distribute clothing. Stevenson was the first woman from Boston to volunteer to serve as a nurse, and the MHS has a collection of her wartime letters to family members. Stevenson didn’t mention the Jacobses in any of her letters home that month. She redeemed herself, however, when she worked as secretary for the Boston branch of the Freedmen’s Union Commission. At the Boston Public Library, I recognized a previously unidentified fragment of a letter as having been written by Stevenson, who commented that Louisa Jacobs had stopped by the office, “looking pretty and well.”
That’s what is so invigorating about this quest; I find Louisa Jacobs in unexpected ways. From a Garrison family scrapbook, I learned that Jacobs donated $2.00 (approximately $75 today) to the anti-slavery cause.
Scrapbook, 1859-1860/compiled by an unidentified member of the Garrison family. 1 vol. Massachusetts Historical Society. Call# E187.
In other sources I got a sense of William Cooper Nell, an African American historian who helped integrate Boston schools in the 1850s. The MHS has an edited collection of his letters; he hinted of his romantic interest in Louisa Jacobs in letters to Amy Kirby Post. I also traced the teaching careers of Jacobs’s friends, sisters Virginia and Mariana Lawton, in the Freedmen’s Record, and I built an understanding of the African American community Louisa Jacobs inhabited in the Boston and Cambridge areas from numerous sources available at the MHS.
The staff of the research department enhances the extensive collection of books, diaries, manuscripts, and artifacts. They found answers to questions such as those I had about stage sleighs, religion, and nineteenth-century maps and publications. They also connected me to scholars and archivists who continue to help me recreate the world Louisa Jacobs inhabited. The woman who was once a ghost is materializing as personable and imaginative, deeply loyal to her friends and her community. My sojourn at the MHS helped make this possible.
Can I tell you a story? A story that will transport you to the court of Tsar Nicholas II and the Meiji Regime, gilded carriages, opulent palaces, and a war between superpowers, that ends in Portsmouth, NH, USA.
The Russo-Japanese War (1904–1905) was primarily fought over Russia’s expansionist policies in East Asia, with major battles occurring both at sea and on land. Japan emerged victorious over Russia, marking the first time an Asian power defeated a European power in modern history, setting the stage for Japan’s future imperial ambitions and exacerbating internal political unrest growing in Russia. President Roosevelt made it his personal mission to bring peace to the two empires, eager for America to take its place as a world power player.
Getting both sides to the negotiating table at the neutral location of Portsmouth Naval Yard, straddled between New Hampshire and Maine, proved to be a daunting task. Roosevelt hand selected George von Lengerke Meyer, a Bostonian serving as the US Ambassador to Italy, for the very special mission of negotiating that peace, and reassigned him to the court of Nicholas II, Emperor of Russia. The George von Lengerke Meyer Papers detail the Russo-Japanese War from the Russian perspective and Meyer’s extensive peace negotiations with the Russian Tsar and government.
Roosevelt writes to Meyer on December 26, 1904, from the White House (Received by Meyer on January 20, 1905, in Italy)
“Dear George,
This letter is naturally to be treated entirely confidential, as I wish to write to you freely. I desire to send you as ambassador to St. Peterburg. My present intention is, as you know, only to keep you for a year as Ambassador, but there is nothing certain about this inasmuch as no man can tell what contingencies will arise in the future, but at present the position in which I need you is that of Ambassador at St. Petersburg. St. Petersburg is at this moment, and bids fair to continue to be for at least a year, the most important post in the diplomatic service, from the standpoint if work to be done, and you come in the category of public servants who desire to do public work, as distinguished from those whose desire is merely to occupy public place – a class for whom I have no particular respect. I wish in St. Petersburg a man who, while able to do all the social work, able to entertain and to meet the Russians and his fellow-diplomats on equal terms, able to do all the necessary plush business – business which is indispensable can do in addition, the really vital and important things. I want a man who will be able to keep us closely informed, on his own initiative of everything we ought to know, who will be, as an Ambassador ought to be, our chief source of information about Japan and the war – about the Russian feeling as to the continuance of the war, as to the relationship between Russia and Germany and France, as to the real moaning of the movement for so-called internal reforms, as to the condition of the army, as to what forces can and will be used in Manchuria next summer, and so forth and so forth.”
Letter from George von Lengerke Meyer to President Theodore Roosevelt, 31/13 April, 1905.
Arriving in St. Peterburg on April 7, 1905, Meyer sought an audience with the Emperor of Russia, Nicholas II and after being presented at court, Meyer wrote to Roosevelt on 31/13th April 1905:
“Mr. Delcasse assured me, as far as France is concerned, that there was nothing official in this talk of peace and that the two warring nations had not asked for it or agreed to enter into pourparlers.
Wednesday, April 5th, I left for St. Petersburg, arriving the afternoon of the 7th. The next day I called on Count Lamdorff, Minister of Foreign Affairs, presented a copy of my letter of Credence and asked for formal audience with the Tsar, after exchanging the usual courtesies. The audience took place yesterday afternoon at Tsarskoo Selo in the Alexander Palace, with much formality and state. I was driven from the station I a gilded coach with six white horses. My first presentation was to the Dowager Empress, (Sister of the Queen of England), and ten minutes later I was received by the Emperor and Empress. I had hoped I would see the Emperor alone, as the English Ambassador had told me that the young Empress was influencing her husband to continue the war and gain a victory.
I delivered your instructions as cabled by Adee on March 27th, and she drew nearer and never took her eyes off the Tsar. When I pronounced the words “at a proper season, if the two waring nations are willing, the President would gladly use his impartial good offices towards the realization of an honorable and lasting peace, alike advantageous to the parties and beneficial to the world,” His majesty looked embarrassed and then said: “I am very glad to hear it.” but instantly turned the conversation on to another subject, never alluding it to it again.“
Convincing the Emperor and, more importantly, the Empress, was not going to be easy.
On June 12/1, 1905, Meyer writes to Mr. J. Morris Meredith: “They are tremendously shocked by their naval defeat here, but are not even yet talking peace. What they are demanding through the press is a call of the promised Representative body, in order that they may get an expression of opinion from the people direct whether the war should continue or not.” It would take a lot of convincing on Meyer’s part to make the Emperor and Empress realize the effort to continue the war was futile, but in the end he succeeded. Japan was optimistic that Russia would acquiesce based in the expense and political unrest the war was causing.
Roosevelt writes to Meyer on June 19, 1905:
“In my efforts I have been actuated by an earnest desire to stop bloodshed, not merely in the interest of humanity at large and in the interest of other countries, but especially in the interest of the Russian people for I like them and wish them well.
You know Lamsdorff and I do not. If you think it worthwhile, tell either him or the Czar the substance of what I have said, or show them all or parts of this letter. You are welcome to do it. But use your own discretion absolutely in this matter.
Russia has not created a favorable impression here by the appearance of quibbling that there has been over both the selection of the place and over the power of the plenipotentiaries whom Russia will appoint. It would be far better if she would give the impression of frankness, openness and sincerity.”
The envoys of Imperial Japan and Imperial Russia arrived in Portsmouth on August 9, and the Treaty of Portsmouth was signed on September 5, 1905. Roosevelt won the Nobel Peace prize for his success in bringing both sides to the negotiating table. On September 1, 1905, Roosevelt finally writes to Meyer, as the negotiations are settled in Portsmouth:
“Dear George,
It seems to me that one of the crucial points in securing the peace was what you finally did in your conversation with the Czar when you persuaded him that the southern half of Saghalin would have to be surrendered to the Japanese. Of course while I was cabling to you messages for the Czar I was also doing what I could with the Japanese Government…
(and concludes the letter with)
Well, apparently we have carried the thing safely through, but it has not always been plain sailing.
Faithfully yours,
Theodore Roosevelt”
Dive further into the Meyer Papers to be transported to Imperial Russia on the brink of chaos and experience the effort to bring a peaceful end to the Russo-Japanese war.
Portsmouth is a beautiful city by the sea, featuring cobblestone streets lined with gas lanterns and the historic homes of sea captains and merchants. Whenever I visit Portsmouth, I look out at the ocean and imagine what a sight it would have been to see the arrival of vessels from Imperial Russia and Imperial Japan in August of 1905.
Having recently moved to Boston from a much smaller, younger town, I have been amazed at how many beautiful buildings the city has to offer. In less than half a mile, you can walk from the medieval-looking wooden home of Paul Revere to the modern concrete goliath, Boston City Hall. Along the way, you’ll see a half-dozen architectural styles and movements sitting side by side.
The home of Paul Revere in Boston’s North End.
While this gives the city a beautiful character, blending the old with the new, it can be difficult to interpret your surroundings without prior knowledge about the city’s development or an architectural vocabulary. Wanting to more fully engage with the city’s built environment, I consulted the MHS reference library. Before this research, I had the bare minimum knowledge of architecture – I could tell a floor from a wall, and that was about it.
Like any good trip to the Historical Society, my project started in ABIGAIL, our online catalog. I used keywords to find items that might fit: “architecture,” “buildings in Boston,” and “Boston city planning” all returned some interesting results, but I knew I could refine my search further. I began searching by subject, which I often recommend to researchers wanting to quickly see what materials the MHS has on a given topic. By trying different phrases, I was able to generate a list of relevant materials very quickly.
I found that the MHS has plenty of published works on architecture. Some were broad, and I used them to familiarize myself with the most basic ideas and historical movements in American architecture. Others were specific, providing me with the vocabulary for several types of brick patterns and roof shapes. My personal favorites were handbooks, designed to help readers identify architectural styles at a glance. Written for architecture students and laypeople alike, they provided excellent summaries of important movements and their key features.
When I left Ellis Hall at the end of each day, I was excited to start recognizing different elements in the buildings I saw. On the short walk to the nearest train station, you leave the Georgian Revival MHS, pass the pointed arches of the Gothic-style Saint Clement Eucharistic Shrine, and turn just before reaching the Romanesque Boston Architectural College’s dark, rough stone exterior.
St. Clement Eucharistic Shrine, across the street from the MHS.
Researchers at the MHS are often working towards some form of published project: a book, a thesis, or a family tree. But the materials here are just as useful for those who are simply interested in learning about the world around us. I found the research valuable because as I walked through Boston, I could look at a building and consider how and why it made me feel a certain way. It gave me a sense of familiarity and even ownership over a city with lifetimes of history and culture, and I felt a sense of pride and excitement that I had learned it on my own.
In future blog posts, I’ll be sharing some of what I’ve learned by considering parts of the architecture at the MHS itself. The details of Ellis Hall and the design of our building’s exterior are both pleasing to look at and work together to tell the story and values of the MHS through architectural design. Follow along, and if you get the chance to visit in person, see it for yourself! As I learned through this research, the MHS is not just a space for graduate students and professional researchers – it’s a place for anyone to read and think about the things that matter to them.
The dark stone exterior of Boston Architectural College (left).
Interested in architecture? Here’s what I used to start learning:
A-B-C of Architecture – by Frank E. Wallis (NA200 .W25) This is a concise and effective introduction to the major movements in European architectural history. Wallis packs quite a bit in this brief handbook, and does a good job of connecting engineering, aesthetics, and history. For those looking for a more narrative style, this is a good place to start.
Identifying American Architecture: A Pictorial Guide to Styles and Terms, 1600-1945 – by John J. Blumenson (NA705 .B55). Of all the books I read for this project, this was the one I found most useful. Blumenson selects a handful of photos and roughly a dozen key features for each architectural movement in the United States, and outlines what makes them distinct. If you’re interested in identifying the buildings around you, this is the best place to start.
Early American Houses: and a Glossary of Colonial Architecture Terms – by Norman Morrison Isham (REF. NA7206 .I7) This is a helpful book for those interested in early colonial architecture from a construction and material perspective. The essays focus directly on specific architectural elements from colonial structures, and the glossary is a very good resource for developing your architectural vocabulary.
Boston After Bulfinch: An Account of its Architecture 1800-1900 – by Walter Harrington Kilham (REF. NA735.B7 K5) This book has a narrative feel, guiding readers from the Federalist period of Boston architecture to the “Steel Frame” period. This book is especially useful for naming the important architects of each movement, and helpfully lists some of the buildings they constructed. This is an excellent all-around text for beginners (like me).
The A.I.A. Guide to Boston – by Michael and Susan Southworth (REF. NA735.B7 S68 1984) This guide was written by a married couple who worked as city planners and architects in Boston, hired by the city to work on preservation projects. This book contains information about hundreds of locations and landmarks, as well as self-guided tours based on different themes. If there’s an area or aspect of the city you find yourself especially interested in, this would be a great choice.
Architecture, Boston – By the Boston Society of Architects (REF. NA735.B7 B67 1976 Whereas most of the books recommended here are organized by architectural style or period, this book seeks to consider the architecture of Boston, neighborhood by neighborhood. Filled with dozens of high-quality photos, this is an excellent resource for those interested in Boston’s contemporary appearance and character.
Great Georgian Houses of America – by the Architects’ Emergency Committee (NA707 .A7) This is a well-soruced, clear display of the wide variety in styles, materials, and approaches to the Georgian style in the late 18th century. There’s little commentary throughout, so it isn’t a useful resource for introductory readers, but those with an existing vocabulary and understanding of the Georgian style may find this book useful in finding examples of the style.
For my own research, I worked primarily with published materials in our collection. Though I consulted some manuscript items that related to architecture, I found that the published materials were more useful for gaining a basic knowledge. The published materials can sometimes be overshadowed by our collection of presidential autographs or beautiful portraits, but these books and pamphlets are just as useful for research. Don’t miss out!
The campaign trail is heating up and the candidates are crisscrossing the country trying to win over voters. During a similar moment in history the elected Vice President suddenly had to step in as POTUS. On the subsequent campaign trail, he was almost killed in a 20mph collision with a trolley. The bizarre incident can be found in the Papers of Winthrop Murray Crane at the MHS.
After McKinley’s assassination on 14 September 1901, the nation reeled, and 42-year-old Theodore Roosevelt suddenly became President of the United States. Roosevelt hit the campaign trail in 1902 to win over the nation as President and campaign for his party platform before the congressional elections.
“How early of a bird are you!” Roosevelt writes to Crane in preparing for their campaign tour. Winthrop Murray Crane Papers
Roosevelt arrived in Bangor, Maine on August 27th with an entourage of more than fifty newspaper reporters, photographers, telegraphers, politicians and secret servicemen. He made his way through Vermont and crossed into Mass. where he met Sen. Henry Cabot Lodge. In Springfield Mass., Roosevelt delivered a speech defending America’s actions in the Philippines, specifically targeted to persuade the Mass. opponents of those actions. On the morning of September 3rd, Roosevelt gave a ten-minute speech on citizenship in Dalton, and was joined by Mass. Gov. Winthrop Murray Crane as they headed to Pittsfield, Mass.
Roosevelt’s handsome pullman carriage, the Mayflower, was waiting for him in Stockbridge. Crane and Roosevelt rode in his open carriage to Pittsfield, accompanied by Roosevelt’s secretary, George Cortelyou, and Secret Service Agent William Craig. The four horses were driven by Crane’s friend, Deputy Sheriff David Pratt, with mounted troops on each side. Roosevelt would have had the opportunity to enjoy some Berkshire scenery knowing that the press and the public were becoming more enamored with each speech and stop along the way.
At 9:35 AM a trolley became visible to the carriage that remained on the right of the trolley tracks, which seemed inconsequential as the Pittsfield Street Railway Company had been informed the regular schedule would be interrupted during the President’s visit, but the motormen running the trolley had been told to run as long as it was still possible. Why was this trolley on the track? Apparently, it was full of members of the Pittsfield Country Club who asked the motorman, Euclid Madden, to get to the Country Club before the President in a desire to receive him. Clearly there was a lack of communication. But what happened next was inexplicable. Pratt suddenly moved the carriage to the left, across the trolley track, perhaps, it is thought, for shade. Pratt’s peripheral view would have been obstructed by the mounted troops on each side of the carriage.
Roosevelt was confident the trolley would stop to let the Presidential caravan pass; Crane was not so confident and began waving his arms at Madden and the impending trolley. Madden tried everything he could to stop the trolley, including the brakes and shutting off power, but nothing could stop the trolley from crashing into the carriage. Madden contended afterwards that the trolley was only moving at eight miles per hour, although others felt it must have been moving at twenty miles per hour.
Witnesses describe a shocking silence after the collision. Both Crane and Cortelyou grabbed the president upon impact. Roosevelt hit the side door of the carriage, resulting in cuts, swelling, and bruising on his face and lower left leg—a leg injury that would continue to bother him for years. Cortelyou hurt his nose and head, but Crane was miraculously unscathed. Pratt was thrown to the front of the trolley, but with little injury. Craig, known as “Secret Service Man Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to the President”, got up from his seat to shield the president and was thrown directly in front of the trolley as it charged forward. Craig was the first Secret Service agent who died protecting the President of the United States.
As the crowd rushed forward, the president and the governor held each other in shock. Roosevelt then became irate and perhaps uttered a profanity, but quickly gathered himself and assured the public that he was unhurt. He arranged to have Craig’s body moved to the nearby home of Mrs. A. B. Stevens and take Pratt to a hospital. The president, the governor and the president’s secretary were examined by doctors for thirty minutes in Mrs. Stevens’ house before limping out to the cheer of the crowds upon seeing Roosevelt intact, to which he responded “Don’t cheer. Don’t. One of our party lies dead inside.” (1)
Roosevelt knew the news of the accident could create rumors and potentially chaos in government, and asked reporters to spread word that the POTUS was unhurt and would continue onwards. Against all advice, Roosevelt pressed on and intended to make all scheduled stops that day, even with his bruised face, cut lip and black eye, lest the impact would be felt from Wall Street to foreign relations (2), although he gave no speeches.
Winthrop Murray Crane, owner of Crane and Co., went on to have great influence on American politics. Crane settled the 1902 three-day Teamsters strike in two hours, prompting Roosevelt to call upon him to mediate the anthracite coal strike, and once again he settled the strike successfully. Roosevelt offered Crane several positions in his administration, but Crane refused them all until George Frisbee Hoar’s seat became available in the US Senate. Crane served as senator from 1904 until 1913.
PS: This was not the first, nor most meaningful, connection Roosevelt had with Mass.; Roosevelt attended Harvard College, and at the age of nineteen met the cousin of Richard Saltonstall, a fellow undergraduate, named Alice Hathaway Lee. (3) Roosevelt was madly in love with the beautiful, cheery Alice of Chestnut Hill, and vehemently sought her hand in marriage. Alice and Theodore married on his twenty-second birthday, October 27, 1880 in Brookline, Mass. Alice died four years later on February 14, 1884, two days after giving birth to their daughter. Roosevelt was so heartbroken he never spoke of her again, not even to their daughter, Alice.
By Adam Mestyan, Duke University and 2018-2019 MHS Andrew W. Mellon Fellow
These images are part of a series of 24 photographs of the October 1925 bombing of Damascus found at the MHS in the papers of Sheldon Leavitt Crosby,* a professional American diplomat in the interwar period. He was chargé d’affaires at the U.S. embassy in Istanbul from 1924-1930 and Acting American High Commissioner in Turkey in 1925. It is very possible that he acquired this series of astonishing photos from Damascus while acting in this capacity.
Historians have recently begun to discuss the “greater war,” positing that the period of the First World War extended beyond 1914-1918. Indeed, after the Ottoman armistice, conflict and occupation continued in the Ottoman provinces well into the 1920s. In Damascus, the famous Emir Faisal (in fact, a general military governor appointed by the British) could not stop local notables and his own soldiers from proclaiming an independent kingdom with Faisal as king in March 1920. This desperate move was a pre-emptive strike against the implementation of the League of Nations mandates handed down at the San Remo conference in April of 1920, which gave France the mandate over Syria. It also came just a few weeks after the still-existing Ottoman assembly proclaimed their National Pact in Istanbul. Despite negotiations, the French government decided to put an end to the Syrian kingdom, and French soldiers occupied Damascus and other inland cities in July of 1920. Faisal was expelled from Syria and departed for the United Kingdom. But the Syrians stayed. From 1920 on, small groups engaged in guerilla actions and rebellions throughout the region.
In the summer of 1925, the series of events known as “The Great Revolt” in English scholarship and “The Great Syrian Revolution” in Arabic took place. In July, the mountain Druze population revolted against the French troops. Next, Damascus and Hama rose up against the French. There was also internal pillage and cross-ethnic-religious violence. On 18 October, the French army deployed tanks and airplanes around Damascus in retaliation. From six in the evening until noon the next day the French intermittently shelled the city. They did not warn the civilian population. The exact number of casualties is still debated but several hundreds died, including women and children. Although resistance continued in Ghouta (interestingly, also the last rebel-held location around Damascus in 2018) and the north, the massacre caused the recall of the French general in charge and a new Civil High Commissioner arrived to finally create a civil government.
The photographs collected by Sheldon Crosby depict the destruction and casualties in Damascus and were taken by Luigi Stironi, an Italian in residence in Damascus active between 1921 and 1933. Some of these photos are clearly intended to evoke horror in the viewer and many were published in European newspapers and distributed as private propaganda. The American businessman Charles Richard Crane describes in his diary how a friend showed him very similar (if not the very same) images in Jerusalem in 1926. According to Daniel Neep’s Occupying Syria under the French Mandate, Stironi claimed in 1926 that his images were bought by an American diplomat. Although many of these photographs are well-known, it is rare to find such a comprehensive set among private papers. Is it possible that Crosby was the American diplomat to whom Stironi referred?
On Tuesday, 4 September, after a four-year hiatus, evening hours are returning to the MHS library!
The library will operate until 7.45 PM every Tuesday, allowing researchers with 9-5 work schedules and full-time students more opportunities to work with the MHS collections in the library.
Starting September 1, our library hours will be:
Monday: 9:00 AM to 4:45 PM Tuesday: 9:00 AM to 7:45 PM Wednesday: 9:00 AM to 4:45 PM Thursday: 9:00 AM to 4:45 PM Friday: 9:00 AM to 4:45 PM Saturday: 9:00 AM to 4:00 PM
Please help us spread the word – and of course also plan to visit the library on a Tuesday evening in the not too distant future.
Somewhere amid April snow showers, I took my desire to see long-awaited signs of spring into my own hands and dug into a number of volumes here at the MHS regarding all things flora. I spent some time in A Little Book of Perennials (1927) by Alfred C. Hottes, consulted the floral clock in the appendix of Christopher Dresser’s Art of Decorative Design (1862) in anticipation of near-future blooms, and found the not-so-secret language of flowers outlined in a miniature Burnett’s Floral Handbook and Ladies’ Calendar for 1866intriguing and rather amusing (if someone sends you laurestinus flowers, they may be trying to convey the sentiment “I die if neglected”; lettuce expresses cold-heartedness, a yellow carnation disdain).
I wasn’t disappointed – Parkinson’s collection of horticultural advice, wisdom, and instruction includes a number of beautiful woodcut illustrations. An early section, “The ordering of the Garden of pleasure,” includes intricate designs as suggestions for attractive garden layouts.
“The ordering of the Garden of pleasure.”
“The Garden of pleasant Flowers,” showing various specimen of Peony.
Some illustrations near the beginning of the book bear signs of a previous owner, having been partially colored. Other sections of the text have been underlined or annotated. Evidently one reader wanted to remember when planting Tulipas, “if you set them deep, they will be the safer from frosts if your ground be cold, which will also cause them to be a little later before they be in flower …” as it has been called out with a manicule.
In addition to the main text with its beautiful illustrations, Paradisi in Sole includes helpful appendices to help navigate a volume brimming with knowledge, insight, and sometimes seemingly strange advice. My favorite was “A Table of the Virtues and Properties of the HEARBS contained in this BOOK,” which provides a concise guide to locating remedies for standard ailments and even one’s most obscure complaint.
How could I not turn to pages 364, 436, 502, 506, 513, or 533 to see what I should do “For cold and moyst Brains”? Apparently Tabacco [sic], the Tree of life, Garden Mustard, Cabbages and Coleworts, Leeks, or Licorice would do the trick and clear the lungs of phlegm. What are Parkinson’s nineteen suggestions for a “Cordiall to comfort the heart”? Among them he includes Saffron, Monkeshood, Marigolds, Roses, and Strawberries. Plenty more “virtues” had me flipping back and forth, from index to referenced page, out of sheer curiosity and bewilderment. If you would like to do the same, visit the library to work with this volume and others that pique your interest.
As I finish this blog post and prepare to reshelve Paradisi in Sole, I see a bed of daffodils and tulips through a window in the reading room.
I recently came across the Elizabeth Craft White diary, written in 1770 when the death of her husband left her distraught. “Life seems a burden to me since Death, Cruel, & unrelenting Death- has snacht from me the Partner of my heart: O fated Death how could you come, tho he called for thee why did you not pass by him, turn from him & flee away.” Elizabeth White’s diary lasted from December 26, 1770 until its sudden end on January 23, 1771. Throughout its passages, she questions the fate of her husband’s soul and laments over the ultimate fate of her own soul. The entries read more of a reflection of her own spiritual awareness as she makes it clear that she has accepted death’s presence and hopes that her daughter would be properly guided into heaven.
“Jan ye 10th 1771”
The diary is heartbreaking, but Elizabeth White’s thoughts were not uncommon during a period in which mourning became intertwined with religious culture. In early Massachusetts, it wasn’t uncommon for people to use the death of a loved one as a time to reflect upon their own souls and ask God to forgive their sins, faced with the reality that their own end could be near. Ministers often encouraged their parishioners to keep diaries to embellish their faith in Heaven, viewing this as another way to become closer to God and to understand what death meant. Sermons often revolved around the topic of dying, such as Timothy Edwards’ All the living must surely die, and go to judgement.
Man is born to trouble as the Sparks fly upward tears sorrow & Death is the Portion of every person that is Born into the world. I have been born, most certainly & it is as certain that I must die & I know not how soon. Die I must! & die I shall! (Elizabeth White, January 18, 1771).
While Elizabeth White would live another 60 years, her words reflected those of many others who faced the prospect of death. While writing a diary was certainly a way to privately grieve and bring routine back into one’s life, the sentimentality can be found in countless other accounts. Public displays of mourning were common through sermons and poetry, much of which told personal stories to illustrate the importance of accepting our demise. In an undated poem titled A few lines to a Friend: Mourning the loss of a Beloved Wife, the author clearly states the purpose of a loved one’s death is to remember our own mortality.
“A few lines to a Friend: Mourning the loss of a Beloved WIFE,” n.d.
Your kind & symathiseing Letter of this day we received for wich are oblig’d to you and as you justly observe that if this Great affliction may be wich we have meet with in ye Death of our Dear Son may be sancthifyed so as to warn our hearts from our Earthly Enjoyments & to set them more & more upon our Great Creator […]
As the living hoped to reflect upon death, there was also importance placed upon a person’s final words. Tracts were commonly produced to teach people of the importance of dying properly and to share examples of good Christians, such as The Triumphant Christian: or The dying words and extraordinary behavior of a gentleman. Rev. Mr. Clarke later wrote in 1756 The real Christians hope in death, or, An account of the edifying behavior of several persons of piety in their last moments. The resting words of young children and women were of particular interest and were commonly published for the public to learn from. This model became embedded in New England culture. Dying words reflected one’s entire life. To speak such proper final words meant that one had led a pious life and was ready to accept their fate. It meant they would make amends with any sin they had caused and reassured those close by that they were off to heaven.
Mourning Picture, ca. 1810. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY
To die quietly or without any resting words often caused distress to the living. Oftentimes, many would suspect that silence meant the person led a sinful life and that their fate was eternity in Hell. Elizabeth White’s husband died quietly after succumbing to fever, leaving her to question his fate.
When I think of home it seems to hurt me, once I had a home but now I have none. O that it was with me as in time past- But alas I shall never see a good day, more in the Land of the Living, once I was a girl then was I happy; once I was a married woman & was very happy till it Pleased the Lord to visit the pasture of my joys & cares, with a violent likeness that; deprived him of his senses so that he was never himself not long together to his dying day- now alas he is gone from whence he will never return, even to the Land of darkness, & ye shadow of death: a Land of darkness, as darkness itself & of ye shadow of death without any order- if he had died upon a sick bed, I should have some Peace concerning him: but now I have none- he is gone, I know not how it is with him […]
Such a prescribed mentality towards death is found across hundreds of letters and diaries, but they certainly don’t discredit the sentimentality of the writer’s feelings. It is simply part of human nature to cope with tragedy. In a society where religion played a vital role in everyday life, it is not at all surprising that death became a lesson to remind oneself of their ultimate ending.
To see what other related materials are held are at the Society, try searching our online catalog, ABIGAIL, then consider Visiting the Library.
