Conserving the Chew Papers: Enclosures

This is the first in a series of blog posts devoted to the conservation being performed on the documents, books and manuscript materials in the Chew Family Papers Collection.

Creating custom enclosures for books and papers is necessary from a conservation and preservation standpoint. Enclosures are made in a variety of ways, specific to the needs of the collection material using chemically stable materials. Housing collection materials in a box or wrapper helps to provide protection from the threat of any environemental issues (such as dust, light, or moisture) and eases stress on a book as it is moved on and off a shelf.

Multi-Use Boxes are constructed of corrugated acid-free blue board to the specific measurements of the material. The box opens like a clamshell and is made to be able to sit upright on a shelf like a book.

Compartments can be created for odd-sized objects or multiple items.



For special items, a cloth-covered Clamshell Box is constructed. Clam-shell boxes provide the same protection as a multi-use box, but allow for a much nicer presentation. Intern Ansley Joe created this clamshell box for a leather journal/case belonging to Elizabeth B. Chew.

Inset Boxes are created for items that need to be housed together or for smaller books. The boxes are constructed of a heavy-weight (20-pt. thickness) acid-free library board, with flaps to close over the inset portion. The box is then inserted into a custom-made slipcase.

The book is easily lifted out of its compartment by a piece of cotton tape attached to a flap of 20-pt.

Other enclosures performed on materials in the Chew Papers Collection are Wrappers. This approach is best for books or pamphlets that are too thin to create a multi-use box for, but require protective housing.

On Loss

I began processing Mary Johnson Brown Chew's materials yesterday. As I was working on a rough sorting, I was leafing through the various journals and diaries that she kept. The first one I opened was begun on Christmas Eve 1886, when her husband Samuel seemed to be moving closer toward death. She recounts the evening as being a happy one "because our dearest Sam was able to join us and he seemed to enjoy the delight of the children + to receive so gladly all the loving gifts that were offered to him...." The journal trails off for a few days, and then she picks up again on New Year's Eve 1886. She writes, "The Shadows fall darkly around us..."

Mary begins her entry on New Years Day 1887 with the words "A sad New Year dawns upon us today." There is a poignant sense of coming to terms with the inevitability of her husband's death that strikes me as being so divorced from the real emotional impact of this impending loss. She writes of her faith and trust in "His Mercy" as she is "dreading the dark future," illustrating her strong Christian beliefs, and her sense that she and her family will be cared for and healed by a personal relationship with their God.

The journal continues to recount events in the last days of Samuel's life, one of the most striking being a description of him waking in a kind of dream and engaging with the family within the dream state: "Tuesday January 4th--My Precious one about as yesterday but at night very restless and fancied we were all on board the Aurania + that the ship was sinking--So lovingly + tenderly he gathered us all together to try to save us--Bessy with such gentle tender tact as I have never seen equalled--soothed and coaxed him back to bed lay down beside him until he was quiet + slept--"

These entries are heart-breaking to read. I felt tears gathering in my eyes as I read the account of Samuel's death on Monday January 10, 1887. "At two o'clock our best beloved, softly gently drew his last breath--'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his Saints' He has gone to 'the King in his beauty, to the land that is very far off' and we are left desolate"

This Samuel Chew died just before his 55th birthday, leaving Mary Johnson Brown Chew to raise their children Samuel Jr., Anne, Bessie, Oswald and David Sands Brown Chew with the help of Anne Sophia Penn Chew and other family members.

In an entry on January 13, the day of his internment at Saint Luke's Church in Germantown, Mary writes "This day our precious one was laid in his last resting place... + I look forward to the dreary years when I must meet all the anxieties + perplexities of life Alone--without his living hand to lead me--but I remember there is another Hand which will guide me if only groping in the darkness and the gloom I can find it--"

Mary Johnson Brown Chew lived a full 40 years after Samuel's death. During the remainder of her life, she carried on Samuel's devotion to the Chew family history, taking on the responsibility of maintaining Cliveden and keeping the home in the family.

Generosity

We who work on the Chew Family Papers project would like to acknowledge a very generous gift from an individual donor that came at the end of December. While we don't want to use her name here, we do want to send her a hearty "Thank you" for her gift of $1,000 to the project. In these fiscally-difficult times, it is affirming to receive a gift such as this one.

Thank you for making the important work we do possible. While grant funding is the source for much of the work done on this project, matching funds are extremely important to demonstrate that we are committed to the continued care and stewardship of our collections.

Women's health and the secrecy of illness

Anne Sophia Penn Chew's correspondence represents the first major group of letters between women in the Chew Family Papers. Within this series, there are many discussions about marriage and childbirth; even though Anne herself never married and had children, she served as a confidant for many of her relatives. They wrote to her about their fears and apprehensions prior to their marriages, and they shared their joys and their difficulties after the births (and, often, the deaths) of their children.

Childbirth was an especially precarious time for women, and they often experienced a difficult recovery period. While this is not particularly surprising, especially given the continuously-high infant mortality rate in the United States, women wrote about their bodies with a sense of secrecy and shame that is very different from their male counterparts. Even the fact that pregnancy and childbirth are conceived of as illness is remarkable; in these letters we see an increasing reliance on male doctors to diagnose and treat "female problems." In nearly every letter dealing with gynecological or specifically "female" disorders, there is a warning to Anne that asks her to keep the illness a secret. This is in marked contrast to other types of illness, such as scarlet fever or strokes, which are written about freely throughout the Chew family's correspondence.

In one example, Virginia Mason writes to Anne about her impending travels to attend to her nieces: "I think I have before told you of Lucy's expectations for October, + also of Eliza B's for Sept. Both of them want me to be with them at the time they are sick; So I shall have a busy time. I shall not, however, have any household duties, for Jim + his wife will begin housekeeping the first of October." (Baltimore, July 27) The delicacy of the language she chooses, as well as her characterization of Lucy and Eliza as "sick" create the sense that their pregnancies were not "normal" conditions.

After the birth of her baby, Lucy writes to Anne to report on her condition: "I was so far from being well after Landon's birth that I was advised by my physician...to consult one of the specialists here...and I am truly thankful that I came to him, as he assured me that I should have been a confirmed invalid for life had my troubles continued longer. . . .
I hope, dear Aunt, that you will not disclose the contents of this letter to any one but Cousin Mary, but I know you feel interested in my interests, and so I have spoken of it to you...." [n.d.]

It is curious that pregnancy, or complications from birth, would need to be kept a secret, but women's modesty and shame about their bodies seems common in these letters.

In another striking letter, Anne's niece Katherine writes concerning her fears for her sister Ida's health: "I am about to write to you of that which has been on my mind so long I am determined now to relieve it. Possibly you know of a lump that has been in Ida's breast for fully five years. I have been so urged not to say a word of it to any one....I am so anxious lest it may be that, which accounts for the giving way of Ida's health + strength....Dr. Lewis was told about it. I was at Clarens + Ida asked me to tell him of it + he felt it -- but I thought did it in a very careless unsatisfactory manner + made very light of it..." [n.d.] She continues that she spoke to the doctor and he urged her to say nothing to Ida, that perhaps the lump would disappear, but if it didn't, there was nothing they could do to treat it at that stage. Ida's letters never mention the lump, but toward the end of her life, she writes about pain in her lungs and her weak state.

These letters portray women's experiences of their bodies as out of their control. This particular class of women were particularly reliant upon doctors, and seemed content to allow knowledge about their bodies to rest in the hands of "experts." I wonder, as I read this correspondence, what forces convinced women to cede control of this knowledge over their bodies and their reproduction.

The Chew Turkies

In the past few months, there have been an extraordinary number of turkey references in the Chew collection. In celebration of the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, Leah and I decided to share some of them here.

The first document is selected from a larger group of surveys, agreements, and correspondence regarding a tract of land the Chews owned called "Turkey Nest."



I found this initially interesting because many of the tracts in Delaware and Maryland have "Neck" as part of the name (e.g. "Rich Neck"). I assume that the "neck" refers to the areas where land juts out into a body of water. When I first glanced at this group of documents, I thought this tract was called "Turkey Neck."

A more personal reference to turkeys in the collection comes from Samuel Chew's correspondence. He owned a farm in Maryland that was operated by John Mason. John experienced many upheavals in his work as a farmer--one of the more dramatic situations involved the barn, sheds, house, and hay catching fire. He lost most of his farm, but saved the animals and some of the structures. A relatively minor incident, by comparison, was the death of several turkeys. In his letter to Samuel Chew, he writes, "You may remember my showing you some Turkies I purchased. To my utter dismay, I found. on going out in the morning Two of my pets. dead. Upon investigating I discovered the painters had been here the day before. + had emptied the remains of paint on the ground...the Turkies had eaten too freely of white lead--no other casualties have occurred." (Dec. 1873) A sad tale, indeed.









































All silliness aside, we hope you have a wonderful holiday. A little Chew-inspired card from Leah:

The telegram as directive

Within Anne Sophia Penn Chew's collection of correspondence are a large number of telegrams. This communication tool was widely employed by Samuel and Mary Johnson Brown Chew. Samuel and Mary split their time between Cliveden and Mary's family home in the city, so their belongings were housed in both places. Many of Mary's letters to Anne describe the day's events, give reports about the children, and, inevitably, ask for some article of clothing to be sent or some task to be completed at Cliveden in her absence. The telegrams serve as quick reminders to send this or that, notify Anne that the family will be coming to tea or dinner, or ask her to prepare something. Though Anne was not generally doing these things herself (she likely would have had her servants do them), the letters and telegrams have a tone of direction and expectation. Anne may have been living independently, but her life seems to have been lived in service to her nephews and their families.

In one of the first telegrams I read, Anne's nephew Ben requests that she have a warm bath for him in the afternoon:

An audacious request, in my opinion, but not out of the ordinary.


Other noteworthy telegrams include a request from Mary to send salad "at once" and another from Samuel to send "a quantity of celery and some lettuce."


Another odd request reads "Do not send laundress tomorrow. Send David's gun by Charles tomorrow. Mary J.B. Chew"


And finally, this request: "Please send some linen and underclothing today."


This last request is, it turns out, quite poignant. Samuel Chew was, at this time, taking care of his brother Ben before his death. In one 1885 letter, Samuel writes to Anne that Ben had lost all control of himself, and that he had used up all of the linen and underclothing in the house because of the constant changing that was required. It is unclear what disease finally caused Ben's death, but the symptoms Samuel describes include inability to express himself or understand what was happening around him and the inability to control his bodily functions. These letters (and other series throughout the collection) offer graphic representations of disease and care for the sick in the 18th and 19th centuries.

An Old Approach in Conservation

We came across a few interesting documents in the past few weeks. It was not the information provided within the documents necessarily, but the conservation method performed upon the documents.

The first, front and back:


And the second:



This sewing is an intriguing non-adhesive conservation method that has actually held up fairly well in both documents over the years!