e-Newsletter | October 29, 2021 |
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Her Fruitful Vine Being Thus Disjoined |
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Samuel Sewell, 1652-1730. |
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MR HENRY SEWALL (SENT BY
MR HENRY SEWALL, HIS FATHER,
IN Ye SHIP ELSABETH & DORCAS
CAPT WATTS COMMANDER)
ARRIVED AT BOSTON, 1634.
WINTERD AT IPSWICH. HELPD
BEGIN THIS PLANTATION, 1635
FURNISHING ENGLISH SERVANTs
NEAT CATTEL, & PROVISIONS.
MARRIED MRS JANE DUMMER,
MARCH Ye 25. 1646.
DIED MAY Ye 16. 1700.
ÆTAT. 86. HIS FRUITFULL
VINE, BEING THUS DISJOINED,
FELL TO Ye GROUND JANAUARY
Ye 13. FOLLOWING; ÆTAT. 74.
PSAL · 27 · 10
If you have ever heard of Samuel Sewell, you likely connect him to his role in the infamous witchcraft trials of 1692.
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Sewell was one of nine judges appointed to the court of Oyer and Terminer, and as part of this court, he participated in the condemnation of thirty men and women, and the execution of nineteen. Six additional people died under torture or in prison.
In later years, Sewell came to believe that his family was being punished by God for his role in the trial. In the years following the trial, two of his daughters and his mother-in-law died, and his wife gave birth to a stillborn child. He recorded in his diary that he stood in the meeting house in January 1697, while Rev. Samuel Willard publicly read his confession to the congregation.
This is not to say that Sewell doubted the presence of witchcraft in the colony, or that he felt that all of the accused were innocent, but he had doubts about the evidence used to convict.
Sewell’s public life is tied inexorably to Salem and Boston, but his ties to Newbury are strong and offer rich detail about our community not afforded in other sources. Sewell, a man of intelligence and privilege, and convinced of the importance of his thoughts, kept a detailed diary, the only record of its kind that describes life in Newbury in the 17th century in personal (and spiritual) detail.
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Headstone of Henry (1615-1700) and Jane Dummer (1627-1701) Sewall. Courtesy image. |
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Samuel Sewell was born in England, where his parents, Henry Sewell and Jane Dummer Sewell had returned from Newbury in the 1640s. His grandfather, also named Henry, came to Newbury in 1637 and died in Rowley in 1657. He is the “father” at the top of the tombstone. Samuel Sewell returned to Newbury with his parents in 1661 and lived in town until 1667, when he entered Harvard.
Sewall’s parents, siblings and many childhood friends, however, remained in Newbury. His parents’ house was just across the street from the meeting house. His travels to Newbury and the comments he makes on the townsfolk here are interesting, but it is the record of his family that is perhaps the most revealing.
In July 1684, Samuel made a notation in his diary, “Hull Sewell, nates (born).” The child was named in honor of his maternal grandfather, John Hull, who had died the year before. Sewell’s diary notes little Hull’s early weaning in April 1685 to “free him of convulsions.” The woman who dispensed this advice was Sewell’s mother, Jane Dummer Sewell, who was a skilled nurse and followed the health and progress of all her grandchildren closely. When little Hull was still having convulsions one year later, he was sent to live with her in Newbury. He came to his grandparents’ house in April 1686 and his father rode up from Boston several times “to see my Little Hull.”
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Friday, June 18. My dear Son, Hull Sewall, dyes at Newbury about one aclock. Brother Toppan gets hither to acquaint us on Satterday morn between 5 and 6. We set out about 8. I got to Newbury a little after Sun-set, where found many persons waiting for the Funeral; so very quickly went. Had Gloves. Gave nobody else any because 'twas so late. |
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Fourteen years later, Samuel Sewell rode to Newbury in the rain to bury his father. His diary says just that. “Bury my father,” though he refers to his “dear father” when he first learns of his death. Tristram Coffin, already an old man, was a pallbearer.
It was when he stood at the gravesite of his mother, Jane Dummer Sewell, just eight months later, that the outpouring of emotion was almost more than he could bear.
"My honoured and beloved Friends and Neighbours! My dear Mother never thought much of doing the most frequent and homely offices of Love for me; and lavish'd away many Thousands of Words upon me, before I could return one word in Answer: And therefore I ask and hope that none will be offended that I have now ventured to speak one word in her behalf; when she her self is become speechless. Made a Motion with my hand for the filling of the Grave. Note, I could hardly speak for passion and Tears.”
A visitor to the grave of Henry and Jane Dummer Sewall would be forgiven for believing that her husband, about whom much is recorded on their shared headstone, was the more beloved of the pair. After all, she is described only as “his fruitful vine,” “disjoined” by his death. Sewell’s diary tells another story, however, of a woman whose talents as a nurse, herbalist, cook and advisor were called upon frequently in her family and community, and who was strong, smart and deeply loved.
I leave you with this: shortly after the death of her husband, 73-year-old Jane Dummer Sewall sailed to Boston to visit her son, in the company of “one of the Poor(e)s.” The group encountered bad weather and spent two nights in Marblehead harbor on the boat. When she was reunited with Samuel, she did what mothers and sons have done the world over. They had a drink.
Editor's note: Inconsistencies in spelling of names, etc., are from the historical record and not a typographical error.
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Samuel Sewall's tomb at the Granary Burying Ground, Boston, Mass. Courtesy image. |
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Woman on the MOON
The (Boston Post) Cane Mutiny...a blog by Bethany Groff Dorau
When I was a teenager at the Poore House, I became a bit obsessed with a studio-tinted photograph in a large oval frame at the top of the old staircase.
Isabella (Belle) Greenleaf Ordway was the only child of Thomas Ordway and Martha Poore, born seven years into their marriage. She was a lovely child and considered a very beautiful young woman, and there are more photographs of her in the family record than almost any other member from that period. We have a daguerreotype of her as a child, another as a teenager, one as a young wife (this colorized photo was the portrait I loved) and another taken shortly before her death, at age 36, of septicemia, just three weeks after the birth of her only child, Thomas. My mother remembers Tom, who died in 1966 and was strangely swarthy. “Just very tanned,” she said, but I’ll leave that door ajar.
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From top, the first image of Belle Ordway (1851-1888) in the oval frame is a daguerreotype of her as a young girl, then photos as a teenager, a young wife and just before her death. Courtesy images. |
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Belle Ordway was thirty-four when she married the dynamically mustachioed Marcellus James in 1885. Belle’s mother, Martha Poore, was born in what is now my house, the daughter of Alma Hall Poore, who burst into flames in the last newsletter.
After her death, Marcellus married Belle’s first cousin, Clara, also born and raised in the Poore House. Poor Clara. Apparently, she was not considered a great beauty or even a particularly good catch. “But she could play the pump organ,” my mother said, musical ability transcending the bounds of physical attraction.
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As a teenager, I imagined an entire story, based primarily on Belle’s portrait at the top of the stairs.
Neglected by her handsome but vain husband (the moustache was a dead giveaway), she has a torrid affair with a swarthy stranger, dies in childbirth, and leaves her husband to regret her passing for a lifetime. And Clara, chosen for her skill with the organ and not her other ambiguous charms, spends the remainder of her life in the shadow of her comely cousin’s ghost.
This is entirely fiction, of course, but I got to thinking about Belle, and Marcellus, and Clara recently because of a story my mother told me about a terrible injustice that she encouraged me to rectify.
It involves Marcellus James (seen here) and the Boston Post Cane of West Newbury.
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The Boston Post Cane first became a coveted part of New England life in August 1909. Boston Post newspaper publisher Mr. Edwin A. Grozier, eager to fill slow news days and understanding that recipients of the object would be likely to purchase his paper, sent to the selectmen of 700 towns in New England an ebony cane with a gold head, made by J.F. Fradley and Co. of New York.
Grozier sent the canes to towns, not cities, playing on the sentimental idea that townsfolk would be more likely to be representatives of the spirit of old New England (read: not immigrants), and requested that the cane be given to the oldest male citizen in the town, to be kept until his death and then handed back to the town for reassignment.
The Boston Post newspaper declined after the death of Edwin Grozier in 1924, and finally closed shop in 1957, but the buzz about the Boston Post cane carried on. In 1912, the Newburyport Daily News, ineligible for the cane because of its urban character, nonetheless reported on the presence of one Thomas Ingalls in Merrimac, “over 90 years of age and well preserved.” He had been the recipient of the cane several years earlier in Newton, New Hampshire, which rendered him a newsworthy addition to the town.
In 1936, just after his 85th birthday, Marcellus James, his bristled moustache now a snowy white, was the West Newbury recipient of the Boston Post cane.
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As if it were not newsworthy enough that Marcellus James received the cane, he appeared in a variety of rustic poses in the Daily News five year later to celebrate his 90th birthday. He was, of course, still in possession of the cane.
“He milks six cows, morning and night,” the article gushed, under pictures of him alongside one of the aforementioned cows and in another, tossing hay with a pitchfork.
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Boston Post Cane. Courtesy image. |
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Belle Ordway’s 1st cousin, once removed, and Clara Poore’s niece, Emily Noyes Poore, my beloved great-aunt, was born in 1919. She was very much aware of the 1930 kerfuffle that resulted in extending to women the right to receive the Boston Post cane.
She lived in same house, now my house, for all her 96 years. For the last decade, it was all obituary clipping at the dining room table as she laid to rest one childhood friend or relative after another. One day, as she clipped away at the black-banded notices, I asked if she was sad. She sighed, not in self-pity, just to buy herself a minute to answer. “Gets to where (she said it ‘whayah’) everyone you know is gone, and then I guess it’s your time to go, too.” Then a moment, assessing the fullness of her statement. “Eh-yah.” That meant that it was enough said about that. Then she brightened. “But if I keep going, I’ll surely get the cane.”
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I forgot all about this until recently when my mother and I were chatting about Aunt Emily. Apparently, the failure of the Boston Post Cane to arrive with suitable fanfare at her doorstep as she rounded 95, then 96, was a source of growing resentment, a surprise in a woman who never wanted to stand out, or have her picture taken.
Apparently, there are about 300 canes left in circulation. West Newbury has one of them. A quick search of the newspaper reveals that it was handed out in 2013 to Barbara Gove, who passed away at 99 in 2017, which would make her one year older than Aunt Emily, who died at 96 in 2015.
But still, I like that she wanted something, and she said so, loudly. She, who had done without needful things, let alone luxuries, for her whole life. It is an uncharacteristic display of appetite.
I like to think that she wanted the cane because she always thought Marcellus James was a bit of a show-off. This is based on truth – she once told me never to trust a man with a moustache or a woman wearing sunglasses as they were sure signs of vanity. I also love that she was already planning to live longer than anyone else in West Newbury when she was eleven years old, and he received the blasted cane.
The fervent desire for the Boston Post cane was not limited to Aunt Emily, either. Apparently, another West Newbury great-aunt, Jeanette Hills Poore, as she was fading away, age 95, in 2018, turned to my mother and said, with a conspiratorial whisper, “Do you know if Barbara Gove is still alive?”
If any of you know where the West Newbury Post cane is today, will you introduce us? It seems important that I see what all the fuss is about.
Long life and happiness, my friends.
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Marcellus James (1851-1945) as featured in the Daily News on his 90th birthday in 1941. |
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Learn about upcoming programs, register, find Zoom links and catch up on previous presentations here. All of our virtual programs are free, however donations are gratefully accepted to help defray speaker fees.
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In Case You Missed It...The Enduring Legacy of the Zealy Daguerreotypes Available for Viewing |
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Ilisa Barbash, curator of visual anthropology at Harvard’s Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, shared her research and that of the team of scholars, authors and historians behind the production of the book To Make Their Own Way in the World: The Enduring Legacy of the Zealy Daguerreotypes (Aperture/Peabody Museum Press 2020) during last night's Museum of Old Newbury's "Watching the MOON" program.
The book is a profound consideration of some of the most challenging images in the history of photography: 15 daguerreotypes of Alfred, Delia, Drana, Fassena, Jack, Jem and Renty—men and women of African descent who were enslaved in South Carolina. Made in 1850 by photographer Joseph T. Zealy for Harvard professor Louis Agassiz, the daguerreotypes were rediscovered at the Peabody Museum in 1976.
The foreword by Henry Louis Gates observes, “The underlying original sin is the fact that the enslaved men and women in the Zealy/Agassiz daguerreotypes were not afforded the right to give or withhold their consent to be photographed. It may have been legal to take those images at the time, but it was profoundly unethical.”
Her Zoom presentation walks viewers through how these images – taken without the subject's permission – came to be. She touched on various topics, including the identities of the seven people depicted in the daguerreotypes; the close relationship between photography and race in the 19th century; and the ways contemporary artists have used the daguerreotypes to critique institutional racism in the 20th and 21st centuries.
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Columbus Day’s Origins in the Crescent City: Re-evaluating the Current Controversy
Virtual Event
For 50 years, Columbus Day has been a national holiday, more or less celebrating Christopher Columbus's "discovery" of the New World. Since then, more and more Americans are choosing, instead, to observe the holiday as Indigenous People's Day, acknowledging the native peoples whom Europeans displaced and critiquing their treatment by colonizers and by citizens and governments in the United States.
Those clashing historical narratives speak of deep division among Americans today. Some resolution to the controversy over Columbus Day, at least, might be found in the origin of that holiday long before 1971, but nearly 130 years ago in New Orleans.
Olivia Crisafi, '22, is a senior at The Governor's Academy from Newbury, MA. Drawn to controversial issues, she is passionate about public policy and engineering and spends her free time running, building robots and fundraising for her chosen social causes. Her investigation of Columbus Day, for her junior-year AP US History class, sparked her interest in historical research, which she pursued as an intern at the MOON this past summer, and plans to continue in college.
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Yeat, Yeat! We're Changing Our Format
They're back. Jack Santos, Custom House Maritime Museum, and Colleen Turner Secino, Museum of Old Newbury, brought area history to life in their bi-weekly Zoom show throughout the pandemic.
After a well-deserved summer hiatus and several weeks to fine tune the new format, "Yeat Yeat, Don't Tell Me!" is returning. Season 3 kicks off on Friday, November 5, 2021. A new episode will drop on the first Friday of each month thereafter via your email box, social media and can also be found on both the Museum of Old Newbury and the Custom House Maritime Museum websites. All participants answer eight questions relating to Newbury-area facts, history and folklore.
Turner Secino explains, "Rather than limit participation to a half hour at noon every other Friday, people can now answer the questions any time within the month and still be included in the random drawing for prizes from both the Museum and the Customs House."
Santos says, "There will be a time limit on questions and people can only play once. Each month we will open with a short, informational and extremely witty video (viewing optional), or you can click straight to the quiz."
Winners, one for bragging rights and another selected at random, will be announced at the start of the following month's episode.
Questions run the gamut. Here are just two samples from previous shows:
In 1772, George Deblois had a shop – The Golden Eagle – located near the courthouse in Newburyport. He advertised, among many things, “blankets, galoshes, worsted hose, gloves, nails, glass, powder, hinges, bells, brass kettles, hand saws and tippets.” What are tippets?
- a. Mugs for ale and draughts.
- b. Fabric scarves.
- c. Wax ends for making your own candles.
- d. Thread ends for the thrifty seamstress.
Who wrote in his diary, circa 1788, this about a night of revelry, “About a quarter before twelve, Stacey, Thompson, Putnam…and myself sallied forth upon a scheme of serenading. We paraded around the town till almost 4 in the morning.”
- a. Theophilus Parsons
- b. John Quincy Adams
- c. George Whitefield
- d. Lord Timothy Dexter
So, sharpen up your Newbury-area history chops and get ready to show off your skills: "Yeat Yeat, Don't Tell Me!" season premier will be available Friday, November 5, 2021.
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Puzzle Me This...
Oil on canvas portrait believed to be Frank Cole at four years of age. The reverse reads "Painted by Lyman Emerson Cole."
Lyman Emerson Cole, born in Newburyport in 1812, was the son of Moses Dupre Cole. Lyman and his two brothers, Charles Octavius Cole and John Greenleaf Cole, were taught the art of portraiture by their father. They painted dozens of portraits of prominent New England families that, today, are held in museum collections.
From the collections of the Museum of Old Newbury.
Click on image to begin.
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Something is Always Cooking at the Museum
Jeffrey Kelly's pie takes the art of simplicity to scrumptious heights. A mere 8 ingredients, one a pre-made pie shell, results in chocolate goodness of the best kind.
Chocolate Pecan Pie
1 1/2 cups pecans
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 (9-inch) unbaked pie shell
4 eggs, beaten
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup light corn syrup
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
Pinch of salt
Preheat over to 375ºF. Spread pecans and chips evenly on bottom of pie shell. Whisk remaining ingredients in a bowl and pour over pecans and chips. Bake 60 minutes, or until filling sets.
Editor's note: Starting Nov. 5, 2021, and running through the end of the year, the team at the MOON will share their favorite family recipes, including a story about its evolution and the significance of the item. Next week, Bethany shares Aunt Emily's famous Apple Sauce Raisin Cake.
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During this difficult period of COVID-19, we rely on your support more than ever. We continue to develop new, online programs for you to enjoy and keep us connected and look forward to in-person events as protocols for safety loosen. We hope, if you are able, that you will consider a donation to the museum. Thank you for your continued support.
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