Happy Birthday, Brighid!

My little sister is 13 today!

Since I was 12 when she was born, I remember Biddie's babyhood best of all. At the moment she was born, my brothers and I were just sitting down to watch the 6:00 showing of Toy Story at our crappy local movie theatre with our cousins. Even though she was born at a few minutes before 6, the midwives recorded her birth time as a few minutes after 6 because 6:00 was the cutoff for staying overnight. If a baby was born before 6, mom and baby went home the next morning — after 6, they got a two night stay. That meant that my mom got to spend Thanksgiving cuddled up in bed, rather than with the extended family. She has often said it was the best Thanksgiving ever.

Biddie in a pleasant mood:

Her christening was held at a reenactment in Rhode Island. The priest at our church didn't often do off-site sacraments, but when my mom asked him to do the christening, he was reading a Civil War-themed novel and took that as a sign. I baked dozens of pound cakes for that christening and never liked them much after that. I also embroidered little green shamrocks on the ruffle of her christening bonnet. You can sort of see them in this picture (Bid at christening with her godmother, cousin Mary Ellen):

Another happy baby pic (Christmas, 1996):

We don't see that expression much anymore. This is more typical:

Enjoy your teenage years, Biddie!

"No Irishman Need Apply"

While working on my Longfellow House project today, I came across a rather bizarre letter from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow to James T. Fields. Longfellow starts off the letter,

Cambridge, Sept. 19, 1850
My dear Fields,
Patrick Cummings called on me today; and not wishing to tell him to his face that “no Irishman need apply,” I told him to call on you tomorrow. Will you be kind enough to say, that I shall not need his services, this being the way least likely to give offence. His recommendations are good so far as character goes; but no farther.

Not very remarkable, beyond revealing HWL as both a bigot and a coward, unless you consider that the 1850 census records show that four servants, including one Irish-born woman, one Irish-born man, and one Newfoundland-born woman, lived with the Longfellows in 1850. The census page devoted to Brattle Street in Cambridge is dated Sept. 17, 1850.

 

 

So what gives? Did Longfellow fail to notice the Irish already living in his house? Or did their age indicate that they were long-time residents of the USA, and therefore somehow less Irish?

101 Ways, Part 66: Frozen to Death

For a brief intro to the "101 Ways to Say 'Died'" series, click here.

On the day after Christmas in 1778, the brig General Arnold ran aground on a sand bar in Plymouth harbor. As freezing water flooded the lower decks, more than 100 crewmen were forced onto the deck, where more than 70 froze to death in a snowstorm that prevented rescuers from reaching their doomed vessel. Read all the gruesome details here.

Most of the dead were buried in a mass grave on burial hill, but a few were sent home to their families. Dr. Herbert Mann, age 21, was buried in North Attleborough, MA. His eloquent epitaph is quoted in Dickran and Ann Tashjian's Memorials for Children of Change: The Art of Early New England Stonecarving:

In Memory of

Doctor

HERBERT MANN

who with 119 sailors with Captn.

James Magee Master went on board

the Brigg General Arnold in Bos

ton harbour Decr. 25th 1778

hoisted sail and made for the sea,

& were immediately overtaken

by the most tremendous snow

storm with cold that was ever

known in the memory of man,

& unhappily parted their Cable in

Plymouth harbour in a place call'd 

the cow-yard & he with about 100 

others were frozen to Death, 66 of 

which were buried in one Grave.

He was in the 21st Year of his age.

And now LORD GOD Almigh-

ty just & true are all thy ways,

but who can stand before thy cold?

I haven't been to North Attleborough yet, but I have a few pictures from the common grave in Plymouth:

Mourning Figures

As an antidote to those ugly urns, I bring you some early 19th-century mourning images. I've written about this genre before, but have found a few more examples since then.

Mary Elizabeth Churchill, Plymouth, MA (1819)
(Note: If you zoom in on this image, you can see that it is signed by a member of the Soule family in the lower right corner.)

Callaghan Family, Cambridge, MA (c. 1860)

Mary Frances Stoddard, Providence, RI (1833)

Sally Gardner, Harvard, MA (1818)

Mustache Mania

Google has a new service: photos from the LIFE collection. The 1860s section should provide hours of quality mustache-gazing for your enjoyment.

If you need more mustaches, check out Mustaches of the Ninteenth Century.

Unusual Urns

These stones can all be found on Plymouth's Old Burial Hill. All date from the first half of the nineteenth century (1821-1855). I'm not quite sure what to make of them. The first two look like something from an art deco frieze, the second two have a little Middle Eastern flair, and the final two look like late 20th-century interpretations of ye olde folke art.

 

 

  

  

  

  

Ballad Genealogy

A few weeks ago, Pete took me to a Great Big Sea show at the Orpheum for my birthday. It was a great show, and even though they did play a lot of songs from their new album, they played a healthy dose of traditional music as well, including "The River Driver," a song from the logging camps of Newfoundland. Since I can't turn my brain off, I spent the duration of this song wondering about the origins of this song, which is clearly related to several other well-known songs.

The chorus of "The River Driver" should sound familiar to anyone with a passing interest in English/Scottish/Irish folk music:

I'll eat when I am hungry and I'll drink when I am dry,
Get drunk whenever I'm ready, get sober by and by,
And if this river don't drown me, it's down I'll mean to roam,
For I'm a river driver and I'm far away from home.

When I got home, I went through my iTunes library and identified other songs that include the "I'll eat when I'm hungry . . ." line. As it turns out, these songs have variations of another phrase in common: "I'll build me a castle on some green mountain high / Where I can see my darling as she goes passing by." Other similarities include the phrase "far from my home" and a theme of separation from a lover, often because her parents disapprove of the match.


These songs come from all over the British diaspora, from Newfoundland to Louisiana, from Appalachia to Ireland, recorded by music archivists and icons of popular music alike. They clearly have a common ancestor. I can't find an obvious antecedent among the Child Ballads, but it's there somewhere. I've found some sources that link these ballads to an 18th-century ballad called "The Cuckoo," but nothing older than that. Any suggestions?

The River Driver

Newfoundland

recorded by: Great Big Sea

lyrics

Rye Whiskey

USA/Appalachia

recorded by: Woody Guthrie

lyrics

The Moonshiner

Ireland

recorded by: The Clancy Brothers & Tommy Makem

lyrics

The Moonshiner

USA

recorded by: Bob Dylan*

lyrics

*This version is substantially different from the Clancy Brothers' version.

The Cuckoo

USA

recorded by: Hem

lyrics

The Rebel Soldier

USA/Southeast

recorded by: Bobby Horton

lyrics

Jack o'Diamonds

USA/West

recorded by: Ed McCurdy

lyrics

Stewball (or Skewball)
USA/South
recorded by: Steeleye Span
lyrics
(Steeleye Span's version does not include the relevant verse, which I found in Alan Lomax's American Ballads and Folksongs. Lomax recorded a version sung among African-American prisoners in the American South that includes the verse, "Gwine to build me a castle on de mountain so high / So's I can see ol' Stewball as he passes by."

Epaphroditus Champion

Name o' the Day:

Epaphroditus Champion.

Yes, yes, there is a saint named Epaphroditus, but it sounds quite similar to a number of unfortunate medical conditions. I would link to the Wikipedia page for epispadias, but it's NSFW.

Epaphroditus Champion paid for a gravestone in East Haddam, CT dedicated to Joel Jackson, a free man who had once belonged to one of Champion's relatives. Angelica Kruger-Kahloula mentions this stone in her Markers article as an example of former masters' self-identification as benefactors even after emancipation. It reads:

TO THE MEMORY OF JOEL A BLACK MAN BORN A SLAVE FOR LIFE

BUT BY HIS INDUSTRY, FIDELITY, AND FAITHFULNESS OBTAINED

HIS FREEDOM AT THE AGE OF 26 YEARS AND LIVED 14 YEARS IN

THE FULL ENJOYMENT OF THE PRIVILEGES OF A FREE MAN.

HE DIED JULY Ye 12th 1802 AGED 40 YEARS

Epaphroditus Champion joins Epaphras Shrimpton among my favorite names beginning with the letter E. I don't know my New Testament very well, but Wikipedia tells me that Epaphras is a shortened form of Epaphroditus and that both mean "beloved by Aphrodite." Quite a name for 18th-century New England.

Now, With More Athy!

This stuff cracks me up. The Christian Broadcasting Network is very upset about those new "anti-God" ads on buses in DC.

I like to read articles about atheism written from a Christian perspective (it hones my understanding of where Christians are coming from), but I'm having a little trouble getting past the chronic misspelling of atheist as athiest.*

It's a-theist, as in not-theist,
not athiest, the superlative of athy: athy, athier, athiest.

Using my vocabulary skills, I can deduce from this context that athy must mean something along the lines of hopeful or optimistic:

But the athiest group hopes the ads will bring together residents who follow a humanist way of thinking.

*I wish to reiterate my mocking policy: Misspellings, minor grammatical errors, and punctuation faux pas are to be forgiven when they appear on a blog, in a personal email, or in handwritten correspondence. For my part, I am notoriously overgenerous with commas and am a poor typist. I reserve the right to mock these same errors when they appear in headlines, on printed signs, or in any other text that has been through an editorial process.

101 Ways, Part 65: Earth Life Closed

For a brief intro to the "101 Ways to Say 'Died'" series, click here.

I am mildly fascinated by the phenomenon of women who outlive their husbands by 50+ years and make sure to draw attention to it on their gravestones. See Rebecca Martin for an example. I don't know if it's sweet or Miss Havisham-y.

Abigail Virgin of Plymouth, MA was one of these long-term widows.

ABIGAIL

Widow of

Capt. John Virgin

whose earth life

closed,

Feb. 13, 1880,

Aged 87 y'rs 7 mo's. 16 days

Blessed are the pure in heart.

Her husband, John Virgin, died in 1814 at the age of forty-seven. She was about twenty-one at the time.

Here's a better picture of the fine portrait of John Virgin. I wonder whether this was carved from a miniature — the shape suggests that may be the case and the good Captain looks quite youthful for 47, though that may be due to the carver's limitations:

101 Ways, Part 64: Quitted the Stage

For a brief intro to the "101 Ways to Say 'Died'" series, click here.

I've been reading a lot about African American gravestones lately. Here's an epitaph mentioned by Angelika Kruger-Kahloula in her article, "Tributes in Stone and Lapidary Lapses: Commemorating Black People in Eighteenth- and Nineteenth-Century America" (Markers, 1989):

In memory of

CAESAR

Here lies the best of slaves

Now turning into dust:

Caesar the Ethiopian craves

A place among the just.

His faithful soul has fled

To realms of heavenly light,

And by the blood that Jesus shed

is changed from Black to White.

Jan 15 he quitted the stage

in the 77th year of his age.

1780

North Attleborough, MA
picture available here

101 Ways, Part 63: Supposed Foundered at Sea

For a brief intro to the "101 Ways to Say 'Died'" series, click here.

I recently reread Drew Gilpin Faust's This Republic of Suffering: Death and the American Civil War and was more impressed than I was on my initial read last spring. She manages to keep the reader emotionally invested while still historicizing the emotions of her subjects, which is not an easy thing to do. The central point of the book— that Americans had to adjust their expectations for the "good death" in the face of the scale, location, and circumstances of death during the Civil War — is powerful and well argued.

When I was in Plymouth this weekend, I was thinking about Faust's work when I came across the gravestones of Joseph Churchill (d. 1836) and Thomas Russell (d. 1786). Faust argues that 19th-century Americans expected to die at home, surrounded by family and friends who would hear the dying person's last words and witness the state of his or her soul at the moment of death. If someone survived childhood diseases and accidents, he/she was expected to lead a long life and die a "good death," which is why the the Civil War was so disastrous for their understanding of death — thousands of men died all alone, away from home, with no witnesses, often with no identifiable remains. Faust argues that Americans had to improvise new ways of dealing with death when their expectations became untenable.

But what about people from Plymouth and other maritime communities? Surely they would not be shocked by the deaths of young men far from home. You can't turn around on Old Burial Hill in Plymouth without tripping over a cenotaph dedicated to someone who died in Cuba or Guadaloupe or off the coast of France. What were the expectations about death in these communities and did the Civil War have the same impact on them as it did in other places?

Faust maintains that uncertainty about a loved one's fate was one of the cruelest tortures for Civil War soldiers' families. The men and women and Plymouth had a long history of coping with uncertainty.

Joseph Churchill's epitaph is a good example. His family doesn't really know what happened to him — all they can do is "suppose":

ERECTED

in memory of 

JOSEPH CHURCHILL,

who Sail'd from Boston

Nov, 1836,

in the Brig Plymouth Rock

of Plymouth,

Bound to Rochelle in France,

and supposed Foundered

at Sea aged 54 years.

Also his Children

JOSEPH LEWIS, died at

sea on board the Brig

Androscoggin of Portland

Aug. 1842, aged 37 yrs.

MARCIA GOODWIN,

died May 2, 1839,

aged 22 yrs.

Thomas Russell's family faced similar uncertainty:

In Memory of

Capt. James Russell who died

Sept. 28, 1792 aged 32 years.

And also Mr. Thomas Russell

supposed to be lost at Sea in a severe

Snow storm Decr. 4&5 1786

aged 24 years, both Sons of the late

____________

It seems unlikely that maritime communities' expectations of death could have been rattled as substantially as others' during the Civil War. They had a long history of uncertainty and cenotaphs.

One note: It seems that when someone was lost at sea, the placing of a cenotaph relied on one of two things happening: 1) fellow seamen returning with positive knowledge of the death or 2) the death of another family member who required a gravestone. Many, many "lost at sea" cenotaphs are dedicated to more than one person. Usually, pre-1800 stones dedicated to more than one person are intended for spouses, young siblings, or mothers with infants, but cenotaphs are often inter-generational or commemorate adult siblings. Tragically, these are often similar to the Russell stone — dedicated to 2, 3, 4, or more brothers lost at sea.

Reproductions

This past weekend, I was in Duxbury, MA and noticed several strange objects: mid-19th-century reproductions of 18th-century gravestones placed directly in front of the extant of the older stones. Duxbury's Myles Standish Burying Ground claims to be "America's Oldest Maintained Cemetery," and, apparently, part of that legacy is a history of reproduction.

Reproductions are not unusual in New England graveyards. Some, like the Noah Brooks stone in Concord, MA, are erected by the deceased's descendants, either to replace a damaged stone or to commemorate a grave that never had a permanent marker:

Others replace stones that have been destroyed or removed to museums for preservation (Windham, CT):

Others appropriate older forms to emphasize connections to New England heritage (Cambridge, MA):

Still others are not really reproductions, but rather modern productions that seek to right historic wrongs (Marblehead, MA):

Some "reproductions" are actually stones with anachronistic designs, as in the case of John Stevens' gravestone in Newport (his son, William, carved a 17th-century-style gourds-and-leaves border on Stevens' stone in 1736). Sometimes, these anachronisms allow family members to have stones that are stylistically similar to relatives' stones, as in the case of Wheeler and Rebecca Martin of Providence, RI. When Wheeler died in 1836, he got a conventional (if somewhat old-fashioned by then) urn-and-willow design. His widow, Rebecca, outlived him by fifty-four years, dying in 1890. Her stone is nearly identical to his. The carvers at Henry F. Tingley & Co. were justifiably proud of their work and signed it in a prominent spot:

But among all of these types of reproductions and reworkings, the Duxbury examples are unique. I have never before seen a replica placed directly in front of the original, effectively obscuring the original from view:

The originals aren't even that old! Why the replicas? The 19th-century stones claim to "renew" the old, but why?

This one changes the imagery from soul effigy to urn-and willow:

There is one case where the original stone no longer stands:

Update: Here's a similar example from Connecticut.

Deep Thought of the Day

If white women had been allowed to vote, George McClellan would have won the election of 1864. And not just because he's dreamy.

Consider the following:

• McClellan captured 45% of the popular vote.
• Lincoln carried Union soldiers by a 3:1 margin (at least).
• Therefore, male civilians were more likely to vote for McClellan than were soldiers.
• McClellan ran on a platform of immediate cessation of hostilities and negotiation with the South.
  
• By 1864, many women opposed the war and wanted their men home at any cost.
• Women, by definition civilians, would probably have voted like male civilians or, perhaps, even more pro-McClellan.

My conclusion: Lincoln probably could not have won if women had been allowed to vote in 1864.

Dr. Lazarus LeBaron

Today's name-of-the-day award goes to Doctor Lazarus LeBaron of Plymouth, MA (1698-1773).

Both "Lazarus" and "LeBaron" are pretty great names, and their flair is only heightened by alliteration. Add to that the fact that "Lazarus" is a terrific name for doctor and you've got a winner.

101 Ways, Part 62: Made His Exit

For a brief intro to the "101 Ways to Say 'Died'" series, click here.

Samuel Jones, Concord, MA (1806):

Men drop so fast, 'ere life's mid stage we tread

Few know so many friends alive as dead."

Young

This monumental stone is

Erected in memory of

Mr. SAMUEL JONES Jr

who made his exit Nov. 6

1806 aged 36 years.

His virtues were too many to be

enumerated here; but they gained him

the love of all who knew him and

are too deeply engraved on their mem

ories to be forgotten.

Early he departed this life; and has gone 

as we trust to the bosom of his 

Heavenly Father.

Commenter RJO provides this photo of a nearly identical gravestone from Fitchburg, MA, showing that the Dwight workshop, like many others, offered standard templates with minor variations in the details:

Morality and Atheism

Paul Bloom's essay on morality and atheism in today's issue of Slate should be of interest to all those (myself included) who identify as both atheists and as "moral" people. Though some of his conclusions seem sound and useful (atheists are less happy and less generous than religious people because they are excluded from communities), I had a lot of problems with his logic.

Most troublingly, Bloom treats "morality" as if it were a transparent and self-evident category. He summarizes several studies that code certain behaviors (giving change to homeless people on the street, giving blood) as "moral" and accepts these definititions uncritically. What makes giving change to the homeless an intrinsically moral act? I have a personal policy of not giving change to the homeless or cans to canned food drives — instead, I donate a sum of money to the Greater Boston Food Bank (donate here). It is tremendously more efficient to give cash to an organization that buys food in bulk and distributes resources to the areas of greatest need than it is to pass out quarters or donate food you bought at retail price. Am I then acting immorally when I fail to give change to the homeless? I would argue that I have made a good moral choice that actually involved some effort and reflection rather than relying on impulse.

Similarly, the studies Bloom cites do not distinguish between a "moral" action and the system of ethics behind that action. In one study, participants were given $10 that they could either keep or choose to share with a stranger. Half of the subjects were primed with a religiously-themed word search and ended up giving away more money than the control group. Bloom, in agreement with the researchers, interprets this study as evidence that "religious people are nicer because they believe that they are never alone." Other research cited by Bloom suggest that "people are more generous and less likely to cheat when others are around." I don't know what definition of "generous" he is using, but I would refer him to my favorite Bible story: Mark 12:38-44.

Since Bloom is a professor of psychologywho specializes in child development, he is no doubt familiar Kohlberg's stages of moral development. Last time I checked, doing the right thing because you know someone is watching (and, implicitly, threatening punishment for bad behavior) doesn't rank very high on that scale. Even if a religious person follows the instructions outlined in Matthew 6:1-6 and hides his/her good works from the world, he/she still believes that God is watching and will punish or reward accordingly. Is that really altruism? Within an atheistic system of morality, no one is watching you and any charity must spring from another source, such as self-interest (if I am kind to others, they will be kind to me) or a commitment to social justice.*

So what is morality? Are there particular actions that are moral and others that are not? If you perform the "moral" actions, do your intentions matter? Isn't it possible that more than one decision can be morally correct in any given situation?

I don't mean to argue that atheists are necessarily more moral than theists. But I am supremely annoyed whenever I see these questions posed in ways that specifically privilege a theistic definition of morality without bothering to interrogate the terms involved.

*P.S. I think a commitment to social justice is demanded by the type of atheism I embrace. I believe that there is no afterlife and thus, no justice in the afterlife, so we better demand justice on this earth. While many theistic worldviews (particularly Christianity) put a lot of value on the afterlife, I think that everyone just has this one, short, fragile existence, and that makes life so much more precious.

Update: Darn. P.Z. Myers responds to this essay as well and, as usual, much more eloquently than I. Also, like a good, morally upright person, he focuses on points of agreement with Bloom and moves the discussion in productive directions (How can atheists build community?) rather than bellyaching.

101 Ways, Part 61: Fell on Sleep and Was Laid Unto His Fathers

For a brief intro to the "101 Ways to Say 'Died'" series, click here.

Most of the Bible verses I've seen on 18th-century gravestones are from the Old Testament. Benjamin Goodwin's epitaph (Charlestown, MA, 1822) quotes the book of Acts 13:36, perhaps due to the influence of evangelical revivals in the early 19th century that placed more emphasis on the New Testament. Goodwin's epitaph also quotes Psalms 37:37, making it one of the most Bible-reliant epitaphs in the Phipps Street Cemetery. It also uses quotation marks, which is unusual:

Mr. BENJAMIN GOODWIN

"after he had served his own gen

eration, by the will of God, fell on

sleep, and was laid unto his fathers"

March 3, 1822,

AEt. 77

"Mark the perfect man, and behold

the upright for the end of that man

is peace."