Category: 1870s

Categories
1870s Poem

The Rat Hunt

The Rat Hunt

By J. T. Trowbridge
Annotations by Will Smith
All original illustrations by unknown artist from Our Young Folks p. 661-65.
“COME, Towzer!” cries Rob: “here’s a rat in the trap!
Come, bushy-tailed Bouncer! come, short-legged Snap!
The cunning young rogue! we have caught him at last.
Hurrah, my brave hunters! — but don’t be too fast;
Down, Towzer! off, Bouncer! you can’t have him yet.
Be civil, old fellow! be patient, my pet!
Out here in the yard, where there’s plenty of space,
And nothing to hinder, we'll give him a chase.

“Now, Towzer! now, Bouncer! look out for the fun.
There! steady! be ready! I’m letting him run;
Be sharp, now — eyes open, — staboy! There he goes!
Quick, Bouncer! he’s scudding right under your nose!

“Along by the carriage-way — up by the spout —
Now take him, now shake him, before he gets out!
I’m ashamed of your hunting; you’re clumsy as bears!
There he is again! after him — up the hall stairs!

“You shouldn’t be scrubbing right here in the way,
O Bridget! — I told you so! you’ve got your pay,
With your old tub of water!” And down through the hall 
Tumble tub, Bridget, Bouncer, spilled water, and all. 


“Now, Towzer, you have him! No — yes!” From the stair
He leaps through the rods of the banister, where
Old Towzer gets caught at the instant his teeth
Are ready to snap his poor victim beneath.



A rally, a dash, and across the hall floor
They pursue to the store-room, rush in through the door,
And follow, with furious yelping and leaping,
Close under the cleat along which he is creeping.
Beyond stands a cask, — he springs off upon that;
The dogs are there almost as soon as the rat,
Capsizing the cover with clatter and din; —
Away goes the rat, while a dog tumbles in.
Who cares all the while for the rat and his troubles?
For life, ’t is for life that he dodges and doubles, —
For even a rat finds it pleasant to live, —
And ’t is death to be caught; and O, what would he give —
What mountains of cheese and what treasures of corn —
To be back in the dark cellar where he was born!

In vain by the churn and the firkin, in vain
Behind barrels he lurks, a brief respite to gain.
They are dragged from the wall, and, with clamor and scrabble,
Behind and before comes the mad, rushing rabble,
Upsetting the churn, overturning the firkin,
Not leaving him even a corner to lurk in.
Out into the passage away they go dashing,
Through entry and pantry, with dashing and crashing.

Snap, always too late by a second appears
Excitedly barking and pricking his ears;
While along with them speeds the young rat-catcher, clearing
The way for them, stamping and shouting and cheering.

I wonder how one little frightened rat feels
With a boy and three wild, yelping curs at his heels!
“Seek! seek now!" The poor, panting fugitive has a 
Last chance for himself on the old back piazza.
Now Towzer is on him — he jumps from his jaws;
Nouncer and Snap — he darts under their paws;
Now all three together! — in one second more
Three moist muzzles meet at a hold in the floor,
Just in season to tickle their tongues with the slight
Taper-end of a tail as it frisks out of sight!

They valiantly bark at the hole, and then, falling
Exhausted beside it, lie gasping and lolling.
Rob voes he will swap his three dogs for one cat, —
But it wasn't so bad, after all, for the rat!
TROWBRIDGE, J. T. “The Rat Hunt.” OUR YOUNG FOLKS: AN ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE FOR BOYS AND GIRLS 9, No. 11 (November 1873): 661-65.
Contexts

“The Rat Hunt” is an original poem by J.T. Trowbridge, one of the editors, along with Lucy Larcom, of Our Young Folk. The printing similarly includes an uncommon number of illustrations, possibly indicating a degree of editorial privilege. This poem provides an interesting presentation of space through the hunt’s movement through the house, subtly providing a social context for a family that might own dogs as pets and finds entertainment with this type of sport — one that would also have paid labor to clean their home. The empathy shown to the rat is unlike in some other poems, such as “Turkey. An Ode to Thanksgiving.” Here, Trowbridge offers an attempt at understanding events from the animal’s perspective; this poem does not end with a justification of the dogs’ attacks on the rat.

Definitions from Oxford English Dictionary

churn: A vessel or machine for making butter, in which cream or milk is shaken, beaten, and broken, so as to separate the oily globules which form the butter from the serous parts.

firkin: A small cask for liquids, fish, butter, etc., originally containing a quarter of a ‘barrel’ or half a ‘kilderkin’.

Resources for Further Study
Contemporary Connections

If your dog is a home pet and companion, it can be difficult to imagine them carrying out duties such as ratting or herding. Not very long ago, jobs like those were a dog’s primary function. While modern dogs are much less likely to do the tasks for which they were initially bred, many breeds have retained the instincts that allowed them to do their jobs — and the energy that went along with those instincts. This poem reminds us that dogs are energetic creatures with a desire to follow their instincts, which should be considered when choosing a dog to bring into your family. Additionally, this poem demonstrates that allowing your dog to chase other animals is not an enjoyable activity for the animal being chased. Thankfully, dog toys of every shape and size replace creatures like the rat in this poem.

Categories
1870s Poem

Turkey. A Thanksgiving Ode.

Direct capture

Turkey. A Thanksgiving Ode.

By Rose Terry Cooke
Annotations by Will Smith/JB
Horatio Walker. Watching the Turkeys. Watercolor, n.d., Smithsonian American Art Museum and its Renwick Gallery, Washington, D.C.

When is the turkey handsomest?
With the sunshine on his brazen breast,
When every feather is like a scale
On a glittering suit of knightly mail;
When his tail is spread, a splendid fan,
As he struts before his faithful clan
With blue, bald head and threatening eye,
And wattles red as a stormy sky?
With lofty step and war-cry loud
He marshals forth the quittering crowd,
Or leads their dance across the plain,
Or heads their march through waving grain,
Intent on plunder, red with pride,
Like warrior not to be defied,
In all the pomp of battle drest, —
Then is the turkey handsomest?

Winslow Homer. Thanksgiving Day — Ways and Means. Wood engraving in black ink on paper, 1858, Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, Washington, D.C.

When is the turkey handsomest?
When he is killed and plucked and dressed;
His spurs hacked off and thrown aside
With all the trappings of his pride,
He lies, a goodly shape of snow
Of swelling breast and rampant legs;
Or, dangling from the larder’s pegs,
Tells to the cook-maid’s practised eye
How fast the days are flitting by,
How soon appears the day of days,
The hour of Turkey’s reign and praise; —
There, hanging in his smooth white vest,
Is not the turkey handsomest?

When is the turkey handsomest?
Ah! when again he shows his breast,
Brown with the sunshine of the fire,
Crisp as a lady’s silk attire,
With unctuous juices dripping down
In pools of gravy rich and brown;
Odorous as any spicy air
That blows across an orchard fair,
His bosom swelled with savory meat
Of sausages and bread-crumbs sweet,
His pinions neatly skewered and tied
With giblets tucked in either side;
His legs resigned to any fate,
Rampant no more, but meekly straight;
Beside him cranberry, ruby clear,
With groves of brittle celery near:
As stately as a king he lies,
The centre of admiring eyes.
Now is the turkey handsomest,
Arrayed before the hungry guest,
Of all the viands first and best!
His life well lived, his woes at rest,
And the platter he lies on gayly dressed,
Now is the turkey handsomest!

Winslow Homer. Thanksgiving Day — The Dinner. Wood engraving in black ink on paper, 1858, Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, Washington, D.C.
Cooke, Rose Terry. “Turkey. A Thanksgiving ODE.” OUR YOUNG FOLKS: AN ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE FOR BOYS AND GIRLS 9, no. 12 (December 1873): 724-25.
Contexts

As is apparent from this poem’s title, it is more about the holiday than the bird it mentions. In an optimistic declaration regarding the Thanksgiving of 1873, Ulysses S. Grant declared, “Gradually but, under the providence of God, surely. as we trust, the nation is recovering from the lingering results of a dreadful civil strife.” We can see the same sense of optimism in the poet’s choice not to mourn the turkey but, instead, to celebrate the Thanksgiving feast of which the bird is now a part.

Resources for Further Study
Contemporary Connections

Turkey has become so synonymous with Thanksgiving that, at times, it can be difficult to remember that turkeys had lives before they were on the table. Authors such as Barbara Kingsolver have drawn attention to the ethical issues that arise from large-scale turkey farming, choosing instead to highlight the benefits of smaller-scale heritage turkey farming. When the continued tradition of the presidential turkey pardon is placed within the context of the beginning of this poem, although the poet likely would not take an issue with it, it begs the question, “what have any of these turkeys done to need pardoning?”

Barbara Kingsolver answers questions about her books. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is specifically about food — giving it up, finding local sources, and cooking.

Categories
1870s Poem

Milking Time

Milking Time

By M. B. C. Slade
Annotations by Abby Army/JB
Artist Unknown. A Juvenile Milkmaid. Photograph, 1902, Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Online Catalog. 
Go, Kate, and call the cattle home,
Where, o’er the daisied hills they roam,
Before the stars shall twinkle clear,
Make all the sweet bells tinkle near.

Bring, Katie, quick, from yonder rail,
The milking stool and shining pail;
And soon the gentle cows shall stand,
And yield their milk to Katie’s hand.
Artist Unknown. Gertrude & Lill. Chromolithograph, 1893, Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C.
Then, on the green and fragrant grass,
The, warm, sweet summer night they pass,
Till morning stars steal swift away,
When rosy dawn begins the day.

Our Kate the shining pail again
Shall fill with foaming milk, and then 
Away the tinkling herds may go,
Where clover sweet and cowslips[1] grow.
Slade, M. B. C. “Milking Time.” The Little Corporal: An Illustrated Magazine for Boys and Girls 16, no. 1 (January, 1873): 15.

[1] The common name of Caltha palustris, also known as the yellow marsh marigold. Primula veris is also called cowslip, but it is likely that Slade was referring to the former, which was more common in New England.

Contexts

Slade published this poem after pasteurization was first shown to kill bacteria and germs and stop the contamination of milk with tuberculosis, diphtheria, scarlet fever, anthrax, and foot-and-mouth disease. The heating process also delayed milk’s spoilage but was still not largely used by dairy farmers. Chicago passed the first law to require milk pasteurization in 1908, and shortly after, more laws were enacted around the U.S., becoming widespread by the 1950s. In this poem, Kate is filling her pail with what is known as “raw milk” (unpasteurized). Raw milk, and the general status of milk sold to consumers, was a prominent concern in the late 19th and early 20th century, as summarized by Smithsonian Magazine.

Resources for Further Study
Contemporary Connections

Categories
1870s Book chapter

What Animals Use for Hands

What Animals Use for Hands

By Worthington Hooker, MD
Annotations by kathryn t. burt
Original Child’s Book of Nature illustration. 1871, unattributed.

Though animals do not have hands, they have different parts which they use to do some of the same things that we do with our hands. I will tell you about some of these in this chapter

You see this dog dragging along a rope which he holds in his mouth. He is making his teeth answer in place of hands. Dogs always do this when they carry things. They can not carry them in any other way. You carry a basket along in your hand, but the dog takes it between his teeth, because he has no hand as you have.

I have told you, in another chapter, how the cow and the horse crop the grass. They do it, you know, with their front teeth. They take up almost any kind of food—a potato, an apple—with these teeth. These teeth, then, answer for hands to the cow and horse. Their lips answer also the same purpose in many cases. The horse gathers his oats into his mouth with the lips. The lips are for hands to such animals in another respect. They feel things with their lips just as we do with the tips of our fingers.

My horse once, in cropping some grass, took hold of some that was so stout[1] and so loose in the earth that he pulled it up by the roots. As he ate it the dirt troubled him. He therefore knocked the grass several times against the fence, holding it firmly in his teeth, and thus got the dirt out, just as people do out of a mat when they strike it against any thing. I once knew a horse that would lift a latch or shove a bolt with his front teeth as readily as you would with your hand. He would get out of the barn yard in this way. But this was at length prevented by a very simple contrivance. A piece of iron was fixed in such a manner at the end of the bolt that you could not shove the bolt unless you raised the iron at the same time. Probably this puzzled the horse’s brain. Even if he understood it, he could not manage the two things together. I have heard about a horse that would take hold of a pump-handle with his teeth and pump water into a trough when he wanted to drink. This was in a pasture where there were several horses; and what is very curious, the other horses, when they wanted to drink, would, if they found the trough empty, tease this horse that knew how to pump; they would get around him, and bite and kick him till he would pump some water for them.

Original Child’s Book of Nature illustration. 1871, unattributed.

Monkeys have four things like hands. They are halfway between hands and feet. With these they are very skillful at climbing. There are some kinds of monkeys, as the one represented here, that use their tails in climbing as a sort of fifth hand.

The cat uses for hands some times her paws, with their sharp claws, sometimes her teeth, and sometimes both together. She climbs with her claws. She catches things with them—mice, rats, or any thing that you hold out for her to run after. She strikes with her paws, just as angry children and men sometimes do with their hands. When the cat moves her kittens from one place to another, she takes them up with her teeth by the nape of the neck. There is no other way in which she can do it. She cannot walk on her hind feet and carry them with her fore paws. It seems as if it would hurt a kitten to carry it in the way that she does, but it does not.

Original Child’s Book of Nature illustration. 1871, unattributed.

When a squirrel nibbles a nut to make a hole in it, he holds it between his two fore
paws like hands. So also does the dormouse, which you see here.

The bill[2] of a bird is used as its hand. It gathers with it its food to put into its crop. When you throw corn out to the hens, how fast they pick it up, and send it down into their crops to be well soaked! The humming-bird has a very long bill, and in it lies a long, slender, and very delicate tongue. As he poises himself in the air before a flower, his wings fluttering so quickly that you can not see them, he runs his bill into the bottom of the flower where the honey is, and puts his little long tongue into it. The bill of the duck is made in a peculiar way. You know that it gets its food under water in the mud. It can not see, therefore, what it gets. It has to work altogether by feeling, and it has nerves in its bill for this purpose.

Original Child’s Book of Nature illustration. 1871, unattributed.

Here is a picture of its bill, showing the nerves branching out on it. You see, too, a row of pointed things all around the edge. They look like teeth, but they are not teeth. They are used by the duck in finding its food. It manages in this way: it thrusts its bill down, and as it takes it up it is full of mud. Now mixed with the mud are things which the duck lives on. The nerves tell the duck what is good, and it lets all the rest go out between the prickles. It is a sort of sifting operation, the nerves in the sieve[3] taking good care that nothing good shall pass out.

Original Child’s Book of Nature illustration. 1871, unattributed.

One of the most remarkable things used in place of a hand is the trunk of the elephant. The variety of uses to which the elephant puts this organ is very wonderful. It can strike very heavy blows with it. It can wrench off branches of trees, or even pull up trees by the roots, by winding its trunk around them to grasp them, as you see it is doing here. It is its arm with which it carries its young. It is amusing to see an old elephant carefully wind its trunk around a new-born elephant, and carry it gently along.

But the elephant can also do some very little things with his trunk. You see in this picture that there is a sort of finger at the very end of the trunk. It is a very nimble[4] finger, and with it this monstrous animal can do a great variety of little things. He will take with it little bits of bread, and other kinds of food that you hand to him, and put them into his mouth. He will take up a piece of money from the ground as easily as you can with your fingers. It is with this finger, too, that he feels of things just as you do with your fingers. I once saw an elephant take a whip with this fingered end of his trunk, and use it as handily as a teamster[5], very much to the amusement of the spectators.

Original Child’s Book of Nature illustration. 1871, unattributed.

The elephant can reach a considerable distance with his trunk. And this is necessary, because he has so very short a neck. He could not get at his food without his long trunk. Observe, too, how he can turn this trunk about in every direction, and twist it about in every way. It is really a wonderful piece of machinery. Cuvier, a great French anatomist, says that there are over thirty thousand little muscles in it. All this army of muscles receive their orders by nerves from the mind in the brain, and how well they obey them!

You see that there are two holes in the end of the trunk. Into these he can suck water, and thus fill his trunk with it. Then he can turn the end of his trunk into his mouth and let the water run down his throat. But sometimes he uses the water in his trunk in another way; he blows it out through his trunk with great force. He does this when he wants to wash himself, directing his trunk in such a way that the water will pour over him. He some times blows the water out in play, for even such great animals have sports like children. Sometimes, too, he blows the water on people that he does not like. You perhaps have read the story of the tailor[6] who pricked the trunk of an elephant with his needle. The elephant, as he was passing, put his trunk into the shop window, hoping that the tailor would give him something to eat. He was angry at being pricked, and was determined to make the man sorry for doing such an unkind act. As his keeper led him back past the same window, he poured upon the tailor his trunk full of dirty water, which he had taken from a puddle for this purpose.

hooker, worthington. 1871. “Chapter XXII: What Animals Use for hands.” In The child’s book of nature: for the use of families and schools: intended to aid mothers and teachers in training children in the observation of nature: in three parts, 102-108. New York: Harper & Brothers. https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/101795903.

[1] Wide or thick in build.

[2] Also known as the beak of a bird.

[3] A bowl-shaped object usually used to strain or separate larger solids from liquids and small solids.

[4] Quick-moving and light.

[5] A person who drives a team of animals.

[6] Hooker is referring to the Indian fable “The Revenge of the Elephant,” which can be found with other Indian animal fables in the Panchatantra. In some versions of the story, it is the tailor’s son who pricks the elephant’s trunk with a needle and learns the error of his ways.

Contexts

The Child’s Book of Nature is a natural science book for children written in three parts: Part I. Plants, Part II. Animals, and Part III. Air, Water, Heat, Light, &c. In the original Preface of The Child’s Book of Nature, Hooker explains his approach to writing science for a juvenile audience and affirms his belief in the importance of science education:

    Children are busy observers of natural objects, and have many questions to ask about them. But their inquisitive observation is commonly repressed, instead of being encouraged and guided. The chief reason for this unnatural course is, that parents and teachers are not in possession of the information which is needed for the guidance of children in the observation of nature. They have not themselves been taught aright, and therefore are not able to teach others. In their own education the observation of nature has been almost entirely excluded; and they are, therefore, unprepared to teach a child in regard to the simplest natural phenomena. Here is a radical error in education. When we put a child into the school-room, to be drilled in spelling, reading, arithmetic, geography, etc., we effectually shut him in from all the varied and interesting objects of nature, which he is so naturally inclined to observe and study. These are very seldom made the subjects of instruction in childhood. And even at the fireside the deficiency is nearly as great as it is in the school-room. 
    A similar defect appears to a great extent through the whole course of education. The study of the wonderful phenomena which are all around us and within us, is, for the most part, neglected, except by the few whose inclinations to it are so strong that they can not be repressed. This defect is well illustrated in a remark which was made by a mother in relation to her own education. When at school she stood at the head of her class, and excelled particularly in mathematics. Her remark was, that she every day regretted that much of the time she had given to the study of mathematics had not been spent in learning what would enable her to answer the continual questions of her children. Even when the natural sciences are taught, the mode of teaching them is generally ineffectual. The knowledge which the mass of pupils in our higher schools gain of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, Botany, and Physiology, is very deficient. 
    There should be a thorough change in this respect in the whole course of education, beginning in childhood. The natural sciences should be made prominent among the studies even of young children, who, in other words, should be encouraged and guided in that observation of nature to which they are generally so much inclined. In the different departments of natural science there are multitudes of facts or phenomena in which children readily become interested, when they are properly explained. In this little book my object is to supply the mother and the teacher with the means of introducing the child into one department of natural science—that which relates to the vegetable world, or vegetable physiology. With this view, I have endeavored to select those points only which the child will fully understand, and in which he will be interested. But this selection has by no means shut me up within narrow limits. I have been surprised at the amount of knowledge in this interesting study that can be satisfactorily communicated to the mind of a child. While the fundamental points in vegetable physiology are quite fully developed in this book, I have avoided as far as possible all technical terms. These can be learned when the pupil becomes old enough to profit by learning them. The facts, the phenomena, are what the child wants to understand ; and these can be communicated in the simplest language, so that a child of about seven or eight, or perhaps even six years, can readily be made to comprehend them. 
    I begin with the most simple and obvious facts—those which relate to flowers—and go on through fruits, seeds, leaves, roots, etc., step by step, until, at the latter part of the book, the circulation of the sap, and other points at first view complicated, are made perfectly intelligible. By this gradual unfolding of the subject, many points are made clear to the  child, which are not fully understood by many of those who in riper years have studied botany; for in the common mode of teaching this science the mere technicalities of it are made prominent, while the interesting facts which vegetable physiology presents to us in such variety receive but little attention. 
    The best time to use this book in teaching is during the summer, because then every thing can be illustrated by specimens from the field and the garden, and the teacher can amplify upon what I have given. For example, when the lesson is to be on leaves, the teacher can request her scholars to bring as many different kinds of leaves as they can find; and she can point out their differences after the same plan that I have adopted, but in a much more extended manner. Indeed, if the teacher catch her self the true spirit of observation, she will be continually led in her teachings to add facts of her own gathering to those which I have presented.
    I believe that there are few terms in the book that can not be readily understood by the child. A little explanation may sometimes be necessary on the part of the teacher, especially when the same word is used as meaning more at one time than at another. For example, the word plant is used sometimes, as in the title of this book, to include every thing that is vegetable; while at another time it is used to distinguish certain forms of vegetables from others, as in the expression plants and trees.
    I have made such a division into chapters as will place each subject by itself, and at the same time, for the most part, give lessons of a proper length for the learner. I have placed questions at the end of each chapter, for convenience in instruction. Of course the teacher or parent will vary them as she sees fit, to accommodate the capacities of those whom she teaches.

“What Animals Use for Hands” is the twenty-second chapter of Part II. Animals and is included in this anthology as an example of late nineteenth-century American efforts to promote children’s science education.

Resources for Further Study
  • Viṣṇuśarman. 2013. Panchatantra : 51 Short Stories with Moral (Illustrated). Edited by Praful B and Maharshi G. Place of publication not identified: Vyanst.
  • Longbottom, John E., and Philip H. Butler. 1999. “Why Teach Science? Setting Rational Goals for Science Education.” Science Education, 83, no. 4: 473-492. https://doi-org.libproxy.uncg.edu/10.1002/(SICI)1098-237X(199907)83:4<473::AID-SCE5>3.0.CO;2-Z.
  • Davies, Dan, and Deb McGregor. 2016. Teaching Science Creatively. London: Routledge.
  • Kohlstedt, Sally Gregory. 2010. Teaching Children Science: Hands-On Nature Study in North America, 1890-1930. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press.
Pedagogy

Hooker provides guided reading questions with each chapter of his book. The questions for Chapter XXII are as follows:

What is said about the dog? What answer for hands to the cow and the horse? Tell the anecdotes about horses. What does the cat use for hands, and how? What is said about the squirrel and dormouse? What is the bird’s hand? Tell about feeding the hens. Tell about the bill of the duck. What is told of the humming-bird? Mention some of the variety of uses to which the elephant can put his trunk. What is said about the finger on the end of it? Why does the elephant need so long a trunk? What is said about the muscles in it? How does the elephant drink? How does he wash himself? Tell about the tailor.

Hooker also suggests that children will find the study of science, and particularly animal science, more interesting if information is presented in comparison to their own physiology and lived experiences. To that end, you might ask your child or student to consider the following questions:

  • How is [animal]’s body like mine? How is it different?
  • What can I do with my body that [animal] cannot?
  • Can [animal] do something with their body that I cannot? Why might they have that ability if I don’t?

Categories
1870s Drama, dialogue

The Language of Flowers

The Language of Flowers

A Dialogue for Girls

By A. I. M.
Annotations by josh benjamin
[Child enters, and sits down on a chair. Apron full of
flowers, and straw hat trimmed with them. Six little girls,
each decorated with one of the kinds of flowers mentioned,
come in and form a semicircle behind her.]

CHILD.

Such a long, weary walk have I taken—oh dear!
And the road is so dusty from Maplewood here!
But I wouldn’t have cared for the dust or the sun,
If the flowers would only have whispered me one,
Just one little story of breezes and birds,
Or told me the brooklet’s low murmuring words—
How white blossoms grow from the dark, leafy moold,
And who covers them up when they shiver with cold.
I ran by the brook to the old ruined mill,
The pines held their breath, and the woods were so still!
I’ve heard mamma talk of the language of flowers,
So there I saw watching and waiting for hours;
But not one single word would the naughty things say,
So I picked a great handful and then came away.
I found these wild roses in Sweet-brier Lane,
And, when I got back to the village again,
I stopped to see Nan at the foot of the hill,
To know if her flower-beds would use me so ill.
She gave me these roses, syringas, and pinks,
But not one of the beauties will say what it thinks;
So now I’ll sort over the flowers, while I rest,
And pick out for mamma the kinds she likes best.
Oh! I shouldn’t have minded how far I had walked,
If only the dear, pretty flowers would have talked.

DAMASK ROSE.

The crown of all the summer’s bloom,
     The Queen of Flowers am I;
The blossoms that my sunlight share
     With me in vain may vie.
But since this child who loves us so
     Her tale of grief has told,
From my liege subjects leave to speak
     No longer I’ll withhold.
Elizabeth Blackwell. The damask rose. Engraving, 1739, New York Public Library Digital Collections.
Mary Vaux Walcott. Wild Rose and Blue-eyed Grass. Watercolor on paper, n.d., Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C.
                    PRAIRIE ROSE.

Clinging and swinging high up in the air,
     Many a sight do I see;
Sights that are saddening and sights that are fair,
Sights that are common and sights that are rare,
     All are spread out before me.
Golden-hair passes each morning to school,
Happy, and laughing, and bright, as a rule;
Golden-hair sometimes at night is in tears,
Walks as if weary with toil or with years;
     What can the reason be?
Butterfly says (a sad gossip is he),
Once he peeped in the window, and happened to see
Golden-hair sitting along in disgrace,
With her hands tied behind and a very red face.
     But I don’t believe it was she!
For little girls cannot be idle and play,
When even we roses keep growing all day.
                    SYRINGA.

An odorous breath from the southland
     Floats by in my dreams at night,
And I see my fairer sisters
     In their fragrant, creamy white.
Above them hang glowing roses,
     That here blossom pale and cold;
And the jessamine clings in a starry mass
     To the orange with globes of gold.
But when the chill daylight calls me,
     I waken all sick at heart;
And not till I see the world around
     Each atom doing its part,
Do I crush back the idle longing
     That fills me with sweetest pain,
And bud, and blossom, and fade, and fall,
     As a day wears on again.
                    WILD ROSES.

We wild roses have no story,
     Few the words that we can say;
Some kind breeze may waft our fragrance
     Out to those who pass our way.
Merry birches laugh above us,
     Slender grasses wave below,
Humming-birds glance through our branches,
     Busy brown bees come and go.
Day by day our buds, unfolding,
     Welcome in the sunlight fair;
Night by night the fading blossoms
     Shiver in the dewy air.
Elizabeth Nourse. Lilacs. Opaque watercolor and watercolor on fiberboard, 1891, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C.
Elizabeth Blackwell. Dandelion. Engraving, 1739,
New York Public Library Digital Collections.
                    DANDELION.

Do you love me, little girl?
     Love me while you may,
For I wither in your hand
     Ere the close of day.
Life to us is short and golden
And our happy souls are holden
     With a full and free delight;
So we raise our heads toward heaven,
Drinking in the blessings given,—
     Sun by day and dew by night;
Till, upon some breezy morning,
All in misty white adorning
     Each bright head,
Stand we, veiled and waiting, ready
To depart, with courage steady.
Angel breezes waft us slowly
Toward the azure, deep and holy,
          Overhead.
     Earthy longings all are o’er
          Evermore.

                    WHITE WOOD-FLOWERS.

          Where the pines ever sigh,
          As the breezes go by,
     And the waters keep time with their flow,
          There we spring from the mold,
          There we bud and unfold,
     And daily more beautiful grow.
The blacker our leaf-bed, the whiter we rise;
Oh, say! have you never, far up in the skies,
     With the sun in a shroud,
     And the blast shrieking loud,
Seen snow-crystals fall from the dark, leaden cloud?
          Through the long summer day
          Merry butterflies play;
But when winter comes they all hasten away.
          To what country they go
          We blossoms don’t know,
But we are quite safe, folded under the snow.

                    CHILD.

Oh! you dear, charming beauties, how good you have been,
And what tales you can tell after once you begin!
You startled me so that you made me quite dumb;
Now tell me the rest of your stories at home;
For I have been absent for hours and hours,
And I must tell mamma “the language of flowers.”
“The LAnguage Of Flowers. A Dialogue for Girls.” The christian union 7, No. 21 (May 1873): 414.
Contexts

Floriography, the language of flowers, was a popular subject in the 19th century, during which many books were published as guides to floriography. According to Dr. Carol Howard, by the time the popular Language of Flowers by Kate Greenaway was published in London, there were over 100 such guides available (see link below).

Greenaway’s book contains the following flowers from this dialogue and their representations:

  • Damask rose: Brilliant complexion.
  • Syringa: Memory or Syringa, Carolina: Disappointment.
  • Dandelion: Rustic oracle.
  • Aster: Variety. Afterthought. (This is the closest match for the white wood-flower, which is likely Eurybia divaricata, the white wood aster).

Another text on floriography offers a preface on the subject. The excerpt below is from The Language of Flowers. The Floral Offering: A Token of Affection and Esteem; Comprising The Language and Poetry of Flowers by Henrietta Dumont, published in 1851.

“Why has the beneficent Creator scattered over the face of the earth such a profusion of beautiful flowers—flowers by the thousand and million, in every land—from the tiny snowdrop that gladdens the chill spring of the north, to the gorgeous magnolia that flaunts in the sultry region of the tropics? Why is it that every landscape has its appropriate flowers, every nation its national flowers, every rural home its home flowers? Why do flowers enter and shed their perfume over every scene of life, from the cradle to the grave? Why are flowers made to utter all voices of joy and sorrow in all varying scenes, from the chaplet that adorns the bride to the votive wreath that blooms over the tomb?

It is for no other reason than that flowers have in themselves a real and natural significance. They have a positive relation to man, his sentiments, passions, and feelings. They correspond to actual emotions. They have their mission—a mission of love and mercy. They have their language, and from the remotest ages this language has found its interpreters.

In the East the language of flowers has been universally understood and applied ‘time out of mind.’ Its meaning finds a place in their poetry and in all their literature, and it is familiarly known among the people. In Europe it has existed and been recognised for long ages among the people, although scarcely noted by the literati until a comparatively recent period. Shakespeare, however, whom nothing escaped which was known to the people, exhibits his intimate acquaintance with the language of flowers in his masterly delineation of the madness of Ophelia.

Recent writers in all languages recognise the beauty and propriety of this language to such an extent, that an acquaintance with it has now become indispensable as a part of a polished education.

Our little volume is devoted to the explanation of this beautiful language. We have made it as complete as our materials and limits would permit. We present it to our readers in the humble hope that we shall increase the means of elegant and innocent enjoyment by our ‘Floral Offering.’”

Resources for Further Study
Contemporary Connections

Flowers still have specific meanings, such as red roses for love, lilies for funerals, or poppies, which have come to be associated with remembering fallen soldiers due to the popularity of John McCrae’s World War I poem “In Flanders Fields.”

Categories
1870s Essay

Ladybirds

Ladybirds

By Marie Estelle
Annotations by Kristina Bowers
Ernst Ludwig Taschenberg, “Die Insekten, Tausendfüssler und Spinnen” [“The Insects, Millipedes, and Spiders”]. Leipzig; Bibliographische Institut, 1877, Plate 2. Public domain.

My Dear Little Corporal: No double you have often taken upon your hand the pretty, little, pink-and-black-spotted beetle called the ladybird, or ladybug, and after admiring its beauty to your satisfaction, attempted to hasten its flight by the alarming information, 

                                                      “Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, 
                                              Your house is on fire, your children will burn!”

Do you know how that curious couplet came into use? Its origin is probably this: In England and other European countries, the ladybird larvæ, or young, feed principally upon the aphides[sic], or plant lice, which infest the hop vines; and when, in spite of the efforts of the ladybirds, these aphides multiply excessively in the hop gardens,[1] the usual remedy is to let a fire run through the latter, and thus burn up leaves, plant lice, ladybird larvæ, and all. It was their acquaintance with this practice, which, many generations ago, suggested to children of those countries the warning lines now so familiar on both sides of the ocean.

The ladybirds, although such small and inconspicuous insects, have received very great distinction and honor. Their very names – ”Ladybird,” “Ladybug,” “Our Lady’s Key Maid,” “Lady Cow,” etc., are designed to recall their dedication to the Virgin Mary,[2] and by many of the associations and superstitions connected with them, which prevail in northern Europe, we are reminded of the worship of the “sacred beetles”[3] by the ancient Egyptians. 

They are relied upon to foretell various kinds of happiness and prosperity, by the circumstances under which they are seen, or the manner in which they take flight after certain mysterious words have been repeated over them. In Germany, where they are great favorites, they are usually connected with the weather. Mr. Cowan, in a very entertaining book called “The Curious History of Insects,”[4] tells us that at Vienna, the children throw them into the air crying, 

                                                      “Little birdie, birdie,
                                                       Fly to Marybrun
                                                       And bring us a fine sun.”

Marybrun being a town not far distant from the Austrian capital, where there was an image of the Virgin supposed to be capable of working miracles, the little beetles were sent, with all faith in their power, to solicit good weather from their patroness in behalf of the “merry Viennese.”

Everywhere in Europe, it is considered a good omen to see ladybirds, and extremely unlucky to kill them.[5] (How daring the professional bug hunters must be in those circumstances!) In earlier times, they were also much used in medicine. There was no remedy, we are told, for toothache, equal to ladybirds; one or two of them being crushed and placed in the hollow of the aching tooth, were said to relieve the pain instantly.[6] 

The predictions made by means of these beetles regarding the crops, have a foundation in well-known facts; for their aid is often invaluable in destroying the insect foes of certain grains, fruits and vegetables, and if the ladybirds are numerous, it is quite safe to foretell that they will keep the plants clear of aphides and the like, and consequently the harvest will be abundant in proportion. Within the last few years they have been discovered to be the most formidable enemy of our destructive Colorado potato beetle.[7] 

There are, in all, about one thousand different species of ladybirds, and as they are, for the most part cannibals, it will be seen that they rid us every year of vast numbers of insect pests. Their larvæ are very voracious, ugly-looking little creatures, in color dark brown or black, spotted with orange, and roughened with small tubercles[8] and spines. When full grown, they are rather more than one-third of an inch in length, and are very active in securing their prey and eluding capture. Figure 3, in the accompaning [9] illustration, may be taken as a type of the larvæ of several of the best-known species. When ready to undergo transformation, the larva fastens itself at one end, with some gluey substance, to a stem or leaf; the larva skin then gradually wrinkles up and hardens, and is retained as a protection to the pupa within. It does not long remain quiescent,[10] for the beetle issues in seven or eight days. It is in the perfect state that they pass the winter, sheltering under loose bark of trees, in crevices of buildings and fences, under fallen leaves, etc.

In the spring, as soon as the herbage appears, and plant lice and potato beetles begin their depredations,[11] the ladybirds are ready for a fresh attack. Thus we see that aside from their beauty, there are good reasons why they should be guarded from injury and treated with consideration. 

Estelle, Marie. “Colors.” in “Ladybirds.” The Little Corporal: An Illustrated Magazine for Boys and GIrls; 12, No. 3 (March 1871): 99.  Caption reads: Colors, – Fig. 1, pink and black. Fig. 2, brown, black, and white. Fig. 3, black and orange. Fig. 4, dull red and black.

In our illustration, fig. 1, at the top, represents, somewhat magnified, the ladybird with which we are all of us most familiar. Its scientific name is Hippodamia maculata. Fig. 4, of the right of the larva, is its nearest relative, H. convergens. Fig. 2, is the smooth, brown ladybird, Coccinella munda, often seen in the fall on composite plants.

Besides their other distinctions, ladybirds are among the few insects that have had the honor of stirring the poetic fancy, owing probably to the superstitions which attracted attention to them. Hurdis[12] devoted quite a long dialogue in one of his dramas to the description of the appearance and virtues of a ladybird; and Southey immortalized the same insect under the name of the “Burnie Bee,”[13] in two fine stanzas, with which I will close this little history. 

“Back, o’er thy shoulder throw thy ruby shards, 
With many a tiny coal-black freckle decked; 
My watchful hand thy footsteps shall protect. 

“So shall the fairy train, by glowworm light, 
With  rainbow tints thy folding pennous fret,[14] 
Thy scaly breast in deepest azure dight, 
Thy burnished armor decked with glossier jet.”
Estelle, Marie. “Ladybirds.” The Little Corporal: An Illustrated Magazine for Boys and Girls; 12, no. 3(March 1871): 99. 

[1] Hop gardens: Hops have been historically grown as a mild sedative and were added to ale as a preservative in the 15th and 16th centuries, bringing the new label of “beer” to the concoction.

[2] See Fireflies, Honey, and Silk (2009) by Gilbert Waldbauer, pg. 6-7.

[3] The scarab beetle was considered sacred by ancient Egyptians due to the similarity in its dung ball rolling to the way the god Khepera rolled the sun across the sky. The beetle also represented the soul leaving mummified bodies similar to the way adult beetles emerged from the dirt after growing from the larval stage. See Fireflies, Honey, and Silk (2009) by Gilbert Waldbauer, pg. 94-95.

[4] Curious Facts in the History of Insects; Including Spiders and Scorpions (1865) by Frank Cowan. See page 17-18 for discussion of Viennese rhyme.

[5] “Bad luck will attend anyone who kills a ladybird” (pg. 160) Ecyclopaedia of Superstitions (1891) by Edwin E. Radford.

[6] See Fireflies, Honey, and Silk (2009) by Gilbert Waldbauer, pg. 157-58.

[7] Named for their appearance alongside potato crops, Colorado potato beetles eat the leaves of plants and are considered a garden pest.

[8] Tubercle: A small, knobby, nodule or protuberance on a plant or animal. (Merriam-Webster)

[9] Orig. spelling.

[10] Quiescent: Tranquil, inactive. (Merriam-Webster)

[11] Depredate: To plunder, ravage. (Merriam-Webster)

[12] Possibly referring to Reverand James Hurdis (1763-1801), a British poet and professor of poetry at Oxford University. See his poetry here.

[13] “To the Burnie Bee” by English poet Robert Southey in Joan of Arc, Ballads, Lyrics, and Minor Poems (1857), page 390.

[14] Impennous: Wanting wings. (Emily Dickinson Lexicon). Here, “pennous” most likely refers to the insects wings.

Contexts

The Author: Although little is known about Marie Estelle, she also published two other articles about insects in The Little Corporal, “The Katydids” in Volume 11, issue 5 (November 1870) and “The Praying Mantis” in Volume 12, issue 1 (January 1871). (Philadelphia Area Archives Research Portal).

The Little Corporal: On her website titled “Nineteenth Century Children and What They Read“, Pat Pflieger writes of this periodical: “Founded at the end of the Civil War, The Little Corporal featured a military metaphor and a mascot dressed in a Zouave’s uniform. It devoted itself to “fighting against wrong, and for the good, the true, and the beautiful.” Not especially famous for the quality of its stories or illustrations, the Corporal offered readers pieces emphasizing morality, and a certain coziness.” (The Little Corporal). Pflieger also notes that the Chicago Tribune reported in 1866 President Andrew Johnson had subscribed to the periodical. The publication was eventually absorbed by another popular juvenile periodical of the time, St. Nicholas.

Categories
1870s Essay

Life Among the Mountains

Life Among the Mountains

By S. B.
Annotations by josh benjamin
Artist Unknown. Autumn in the Alleghenies (horse shoe bend). Chromolithograph, 1878, Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C.

We have already been told that much of the Alleghanies is still in woods, but in the part of which we now speak (southern Pennsylvania) there are a number of small, log houses scattered through the woods, with little openings around them where the mountaineers dwell in true pioneer fashion.

Some of these people are hard-working, honest men and women, who have come here because a home could be procured for less money than elsewhere, and they find, perhaps, more of the comforts than the luxuries of life, though neither are enjoyed to the full extent; in summer, however, they have pasture for their cattle in abundance, also the most refreshing springs of water, all free of expense, and with a flourishing garden around their humble dwelling, it has something of the look of home; but in winter the snow falls deep, and continues long, and having no stores, mills, or anything of the kind, they are obliged to go down to the valleys for nearly all their comforts; this is hard work for them, but notwithstanding their laborious life they are generally a strong, healthy people.

The scenery in some parts of the mountains is exceedingly grand; one stream of water called Clear Shade, is particularly beautiful; it flows through a dense forest, while on either side, the Rhododendron maximum (great laurel) grows in luxuriance, bending over the stream, almost forming a canopy, while the waters, clear and cold throughout the year, flowing over the moss-covered rocks through the dark shade, is surely one of “Nature’s master-pieces.”

Scientists would find much of interest here, both in botany and geology, and we hope that Professor Leslie, our State geologist, will give us something on these subjects, that the boys and girls who are growing up all over the State, and who ought to acquire a knowledge of the rocks, plants and animals around them, can read and understand and apply.

Mary Vaux Walcott. Rhododendron. Watercolor on paper, 1880, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C.

But though we find much in the scenery of the mountains that is instructive and interesting to visitors, yet if the boys and girls could see the privations that the children here have to undergo, their little hearts would, perhaps, often swell with thankfulness for the many comforts with which their own homes are surrounded.

Bertha E. Jaques. Cabin in Wilderness. Drypoint print, n.d., Smithsonian American Art Museum and its Renwick Gallery, Washington, D.C.
S. B. “for the children: life among the mountains.” Friends’ intelligencer 31, No. 31 (September 1874): 493.
Contexts

This story appeared during the Reconstruction era following the U.S. Civil War, and also the same year in which Pennsylvania adopted a new state constitution. For the first time, public education was codified into Pennsylvania state law. Historic LaMott provides a brief overview of that constitution, as well as additional historical context for the state during Reconstruction.

Professor Leslie is J. Peter Lesley, a professor and geologist who became the Pennsylvania state geologist in 1874. According to his biographical memoir presented at the National Academy of Sciences, he “undoubtedly knew more about the geology of Pennsylvania and was more widely known as representing the geological formations and resources of that State than any other man, but his knowledge ran far beyond the State boundaries.” He published writings on coal and iron production, two industries that helped shape Pennsylvania’s development in the 19th century.

Resources for Further Study
  • Pennsylvania provided a large portion of the steel used in America in the 19th century, and this story coincides with the growth of industry throughout the state. The Pennsylvania Historical & Museum Commission gives an overview of the growing economy after the Civil War.
  • The Appalachian Trail, the world’s longest hiking-only trail, runs from Maine to Georgia, crossing into Pennsylvania near the New Jersey border and exiting in the southern central part of the state, continuing into Maryland.
  • Clear Shade Creek is now a popular fly-fishing destination in Southwest Pennsylvania.
Contemporary Connections

The long-term effects of Reconstruction are still present in the U.S., as Henry Louis Gates, Jr., points out in his Time article, “How Reconstruction Still Shapes American Racism.”

Categories
1870s Short Story

The Mice in the Mill

The Mice in the Mill

By Mrs. A. W. Curtis
Annotations by josh benjamin
Francis Hopkinson Smith. Old Grist Mill. Brush and watercolor, gouache, graphite on paper, 1871, Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, New York, NY.

Two little mice once lived in a great mill. They made a cunning nest behind some bags of corn, and whenever they were hungry, all they had to do was to nibble a hole into a bag, and then their dinner was all ready for them to eat.

But they had their troubles, like everybody else, for there was a great terrible cat, ready to pounce upon them if they went out to call on a neighbor, or to see a little of the world. But they were wise little mice, and took good care to keep out of the cat’s way. One delightful day four teenty tooty baby mice came into the nest, the pinkest, softest, cunningest little mice in the world, so the old mice thought, and they cuddled them up to keep them warm, and Mamma Mouse nursed them, and kept all their faces clean, and their little tails straight. How they did eat, and how they did grow!

After a while they got their eyes open, and found out what their feet were made for, and went tumbling over each other in the next, and finally began to creep out. Then the old mice began to tremble in their shoes. They would set their four children all up in a row, and tell them the most frightful stories about that terrible cat, and what would befall them if they so much as whisked a tail outside the great bags of corn.

Of course the four little mice said they never, never would, as long as they lived. But one dreadful day they were left all alone to keep house while the old mice went on a visit. They played among the bags for awhile, then one of them said, “Oh! what a poky, dismal place this is! The sun is shining as bright as gold beyond these bags, and I smell something very nice to eat. I’m going to peep out and see if the old cat is around.”

“Oh! what a naughty, naughty boy you are,” shrieked the rest. But he didn’t care for that, so crept slowly along until he could get a fine view of the place, then back he ran, his eyes dancing with delight.

“Oh, it’s perfectly splendid out there, so warm and bright, and the most delicious flour scattered over the floor, and there isn’t a sign of a cat to be seen. I don’t believe there is one. I guess that is a made-up story to keep us all in this dismal hole. It is quite time we should see a little of the world for ourselves, and I’m going. Who wants to go with me?”

Image by Michael Bußmann from Pixabay

Alas and alas! the foolish little mice all followed him, and they found it was indeed very warm and bright in the sunshine, and there was plenty of nice flour to eat.

So they forgot their fears, forgot all the warnings they had received, and started to run across to the great open door, when there was a sudden dash of some great frightful creature among them, and two were instantly killed.

The other two got safely back to the nest, where they found the old mice, and told them the dreadful story. They all sat down and cried, wiping away their tears with their tails. Finally, Mamma Mouse said, “You poor foolish things! You could not believe what we said, but must see for yourselves.”

“But we never, never, never will again as long as we live,” said the little mice, but their Mamma said “Humph!”

Curtis, A.W. “The Mice in the mill.” The Christian Union 7, No. 1 (January 1873): 17.
Contexts

An article in the Virginia Historical Magazine gives an overview of the development of flour milling in the American colonies, breaking it into four stages:

  • “Hand stones, saddle stones, and mortars represented the earliest stage in the progress of industrial evolution, which is usually known as the ‘Household system’ (sometimes as the ‘Homespun stage’) and which is characterized by production in the home for home use.”
  • An improved quern (the lower, stationary stone for grinding) brought the “second stage or ‘Handicraft system’ with production for barter or sale outside the home. This stage is sometimes referred to as the ‘Direct market’ stage with production of ‘bespoke’ work for sale directly to consumers, and limited generally to the local or community market.”
  • “With the grist mill came the third stage in industrial evolution, known as the ‘domestic stage’ and the ‘putting-out’ system. This stage is characterized by production or processing of grain owned by others, for a toll charge, without the producer assuming the risks of market price changes.”
  • The final, “factory stage” is “characterized by the mill owner purchasing the grain, milling the flour, selling it to a middleman (not directly to consumers) and taking the risks incident to market price changes.” [1]

Also from the same article: “Shortly before the American Revolution considerable improvements were made in America in the application of power to milling machinery and processes, thus displacing manual labor…These improvements, which had been introduced gradually during the previous decades, culminated in the inventions of Oliver Evans, of Philadelphia, who perfected devices by which grain was elevated mechanically to the top of the mill or warehouse, cleaned during gravity transmission to the hoppers, ground, conveyed by screw transmission and a second series of elevators to the top of the building again, cooled, bolted, and barreled during its second descent, without the intervention of any manual operation.

The year of this story, 1873, would see the U.S. register 249,997,100 bushels of wheat produced, along with 1,476,594 bushels imported. Of that total, 211,882,243 bushels were designated as “retained for home consumption” (not exported). The per capita figure (remember that this only includes those counted in the census) for consumption was 5.08 bushels, which at a 72% efficiency rating for the milling process, equals about 220 pounds of flour consumed yearly. (https://www2.census.gov/library/publications/1879/compendia/1878statab.pdf)

The Christian Union, later known as The Outlook, was a weekly newspaper founded and edited by Henry Ward Beecher, a Protestant church minister and brother to Harriet Beecher Stowe.

Resources for Further Study
Contemporary Connections

The White Earth Land Recovery Project offers a different farming concept from the large-scale agriculture industry developed in the white United States in the 19th century. As an alternative to the increasingly mechanized, “factory stage” of production, the project preserves a community-based approach to farming, including the harvesting and milling of grain, particularly Manoomin (wild rice), which they prepare with the traditional Ojibwe method of wood parching.

[1] Peterson, Arthur G. “Flour and Grist Milling in Virginia: A Brief History.” The Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 43, no. 2 (1935): 97-108.

Categories
1870s Poem

Bluebirds in Autumn

Bluebirds in Autumn

By Celia Thaxter
Annotations by Will Smith/KK
John James Audubon. Bluebird, from Birds of America (1827-38), Audubon.com.
The morning was gray and cloudy,
     And over the fading land
Autumn was casting the withered leaves
     Abroad with a lavish hand.

Sad lay the tawny pastures,
     Where the grass was brown and dry;
And the far-off hills were blurred with mist,
     Under the sombre sky.

The frost already had fallen,
     No bird seemed left to sing;
And I sighed to think of the tempests
    Between us and the spring.

But the woodbine yet was scarlet
     Where it found a place to cling;
And the old dead weeping-willow
     Was draped like a splendid king.
Suddenly out of the heavens,
     Like sapphire sparks of light,
A flock of bluebirds swept and lit
     In the woodbine garlands bright.

The tree was alive in a moment,
     With motion, color, and song;
How gorgeous the flash of their azure wings
     The blood-red leaves among!

Beautiful, brilliant creatures!
     What sudden delight they brought
Into the pallid morning,
     Rebuking my dreary thought!

Only a few days longer,
     And they would have flown, to find
The wonderful, vanished summer,
      Leaving darkness and cold behind.

O, to flee from the bitter weather,
     The winter's buffets and shocks, --
To borrow their strong, light pinions,
     And follow their shining flocks!

While they sought for the purple berries,
      So eager and bright and glad,
I watched them, dreaming of April,
      Ashamed to have been so sad.

And I thought, "Though I cannot follow them,
     I can patiently endure,
And make the best of the snow-storms,
     And that is something more.

"And when I see them returning,
     All heaven to earth they'll bring;
And my joy will be the deeper, 
     For I shall have earned the spring."
Benson Bond Moore. Mountain Bluebird. Print: etching, between 1895 and 1974, Smithsonian Institution Archives of American Art, Washington, D.C.
THAXTER, CELIA. “Bluebirds in Autumn.” OUR YOUNG FOLKS: AN ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE FOR BOYS AND GIRLS 7, No. 84 (December 1871): 726-27.
Contexts

Much like “The Bird in the Rain” by Margaret Mason, this poem uses birds to symbolize optimism in the face of larger adversity. With the recent ending of the Civil War, poems about overcoming seemingly impossible challenges take on additional importance when place within their social context.

Thaxter’s poem resonated beyond the literary world. In 1893, Mary Dana Hicks mentioned it in The Prang Primary Course in Art Education in a section titled “Study of Animals”: “The following poems and songs will aid in interesting the children in caring for the birds” (177). Like Thaxter herself, Hicks participates in a nationwide endeavor to preserve birds in the face of mass slaughter for fashion. Birds–sometimes including the entire animal, with beaks, feet, and all–were especially common on women’s hats. Thaxter rails against this practice in “Woman’s Heartlessness,” an 1887 essay that appeared in the first issue of Audubon Magazine. The prominent children’s magazine St. Nicholas began a movement it called the “Bird Defenders,” which had local societies and activities for children. Teachers might give students a “Reward of Merit” like this one featuring a bluebird.

Reward of Merit to student Allie Hill by teacher Alice Cornelius. Printed
colorized card, 19th century, Smithsonian Institution.
Resources for Further Study
  • Kilcup, Karen L. Fallen Forests: Emotion, Embodiment, and Ethics in American Women’s Environmental Writing, 1781-1924. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2013. See 205-13.
  • Kilcup, Karen L. Stronger, Truer, Bolder: American Children’s Writing, Nature, and the Environment. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2021. See 246-50, 253-54.
  • Mason, Kathy S. “Out of Fashion: Harriet Hemenway and the Audubon Society, 1896-1905,” The Historian 65, no. 1 (Fall 2002): 1-14.
  • Slapin, Beverly. “De Colores: The Raza Experience in Books for Children.” Rev. of Celia C. Pérez, Strange Birds: A Field Guide to Ruffling Feathers.
  • Vallier, Jane. “The Role of Celia Thaxter in American Literary History: An Overview,” Colby Quarterly 14, no. 4 (December 1981): 238-55.
Contemporary Connections

Cornell University’s Shoals Marine Laboratory has reproduced Celia Thaxter’s garden located on Thaxter’s former home on the Isles of Shoals, off the coast of Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Visitors are welcome through scheduled tours.

Categories
1870s Poem

The Great White Owl

The Great White Owl

By Celia Thaxter
Annotations by Will Smith
Original illustration from Our Young Folks, p. 148.
He sat aloft on the rocky height,
     Snow-white above the snow,
In the winter morning calm and bright,
     And I gazed at him, below.

He faced the east where the sunshine streamed
     On the singing, sparkling sea,
And he blinked with his yellow eyes that seemed
     All sightless and blank to be.

The snow-birds swept in a whirling crowd
     About him gleefully,
And piped and whistled, sweet and loud,
     But never a plume stirred he.

Singing they passed and away they flew
     Through the brilliant atmosphere;
Cloud-like he sat with the living blue
     Of the sky behind him, clear.

"Give you good morrow, friend!" I cried.
     He wheeled his large round head
Solemn and stately from side to side,
     But never a word he said.

"O lonely creature, weird and white,
     Why are you sitting there,
Like a glimmering ghost from the still midnight
     In the beautiful morning air?"

He spurned the rock with his talons strong,
     No human speech brooked he;
Like a snow-flake huge he sped along,
     Swiftly and noiselessly.

His wide slow-waving wings so white
     Heavy and soft did seem,
Yet rapid as a dream his flight,
     And silent as a dream.

And when a distant crag he gained,
     Bright twinkling as a star,
He shook his shining plumes, and deigned
     To watch me from afar.

And once again, when the evening red
     Burned dimly in the west,
I saw him motionless, his head
     Bent forward on his breast.

Dark and still 'gainst the sunset sky
     Stood out his figure lone,
Crowning the bleak rock, far and high,
     By sad winds overblown.

Did he dream of the ice-fields. stark and drear,
     Of his haunts on the Arctic shore?
Or the downy brood in his nest last year
     On the coast of Labrador?

Had he fluttered the Esquimau huts among?
     How I wished he could speak to me!
Had he sailed on the icebergs, rainbow hung,
     In the open Polar Sea?

O, many a tale he might have told
     Of marvellous sounds and sights,
Where the world lies hopeless and dumb with cold
     Through desolate days and nights.

But with folded wings, while the darkness fell,
     He sat, nor spake nor stirred;
And charmed as if by a subtile spell [1]
     I mused on the wondrous Bird.
Thaxter, Celia. “The Great White Owl.” Our young Folks: An illustrated magazine for Boys and Girls 7, no. 3 (March 1871): 148-49.

[1] Subtle

Contexts

The owl has long captured the imagination of humanity. Whether they are seen as harbingers of ill-fate or symbols of wisdom, the owl has always seemed to possess a supernatural quality for its observers. Thaxter addresses some of these qualities through her descriptions, which often invoke a sense of otherworldliness. Although Thaxter addresses birds in her other poetry, none seem to possess the unknowable qualities of the owl.

Definitions from Oxford English Dictionary:

deign: To think it worthy of oneself (to do something).

Resources for Further Study
css.php