Alexander Hamilton

James Madison

John Jay

The Federalist

The arguments for and against ratification were heated and divisive.

Therefore, some of the best minds in the nation joined forces to convince the populace of the Constitution’s merits.

Congressional Pugalists – Congress Hall Philadelphia 1798 LOC

Constitution Convention, Philadelphia 1787

“Thus I consent, sir, to this Constitution because I expect no better, and because I am not sure it is not the best. The opinions I have had of its errors, I sacrifice to the public good.”

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

First page of the U.S. Constitution

Nevertheless, by June 21, 1788, the Federalists achieved their objective. The last of the required nine states signed. A tenth, Virginia, signed on June 25, 1788.

So, to commemorate, Philadelphia planned a celebration that would rival any the new nation had seen before.

Francis Hopkinson

The announcement, planning, and exhibit building took place in under two weeks.

The Planners

One of the most extraordinary things about this story is that it took under two weeks to both plan and implement the Procession! 

Francis Hopkinson, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, was one of the principal planners. In addition to writing an ode, he helped design the Grand Federal Edifice, the parade’s centerpiece.

Benjamin Franklin Bache, Benjamin Franklin’s grandson, published a broadside listing the order of the procession.

Alexander Reinagle, a musician, wrote the Federal Grand March in a matter of days.

Artist Charles Wilson Peale provided flags of all America’s allies. He also aided in the design of costumes, banners, and mottoes.

And, perhaps most impressive, representatives from forty-four trades and professions set aside their daily routine and paid livelihoods in order to prepare their own parade entries.

Charles Wilson Peale

Alexander Reinagle

The grandest exhibit might have been the Federal Edifice. Hopkinson described it thus:

“The new roof, or grand federal edifice, on a carriage drawn by ten white horses; the dome supported by thirteen Corinthian columns, raised on pedestals proper to that order; the frieze decorated with thirteen stars; ten of the columns complete, and three left unfinished: on the pedestals of the columns were inscribed, in ornamented cyphers, the initials of the thirteen American states. On the top of the dome, a handsome cupola surmounted by a figure of Plenty, bearing her cornucopia, and other emblems of her character . . . Round the pedestal of the edifice were these words, ‘in union the fabric stands firm.’ ” — Francis Hopkinson

A replica

“This elegant building was begun and finished in the short space of four days, by William Williams and Co.”

FRANCIS HOPKINSON

Bush Hill 1793 Free Library of Philadelphia, Print & Pictures

“out of seventeen thousand people . . . there was scarcely one person intoxicated . . .”

The After-Party

Following the Federal Procession, the revelers gathered for food and drink at Bush Hill.

One attending Philadelphian, seeming a bit obsessed with the libations, recorded the following:

” . . . to relate one more fact, from which I derived no small pleasure, or rather triumph, after the procession was over. It is, that out of seventeen thousand people who appeared on the green, and partook of the collation, there was scarcely one person intoxicated, nor was there a single quarrel or even dispute, heard of during the day. All was order, all was harmony and joy.

These delightful fruits of the entertainment are to be ascribed wholly to no liquors being drank on the green, but BEER and CYDER. I wish this fact could be published in every language, and circulated through every part of the world, where spirituous liquors are used . . . Since writing the above, I have been informed, that there were two or three persons intoxicated, and several quarrels on the green but there is good reason to believe that they were all occasioned by spirituous liquors, which were clandestinely carried out, and drank by some disorderly people, contrary to the orders of the day.”

(No doubt those “disorderly people” were Anti-Federalists! 😉)

The Aftermath

Finally, as night fell, lanterns were lit and hung from ships’ masts, and before long, the harbor glittered in celebration.

 

Aurora Borealis (1865), by Frederic Edwin Church

Mother Nature even pitched in, bestowing her own tribute with a display of Aurora Borealis.

What more could one ask?

The post The Federal Procession of 1788 first appeared on Linda Lee Graham.

Sunday, September 17, 2023, is Constitution Day. It marks the two hundred and thirty-fifth anniversary of the final day of the U.S. Constitutional Convention—the day a miracle occurred on Philadelphia’s Chestnut Street.

On this day a gathering of men set aside their differences and placed the promise of a free and united nation above all else.

Scene at the Signing of the Constitution of the United States ~ Howard Chandler Christy ~ Public Domain

An Embarrassment of National Affairs

Bitter political factions divided the fledgling United States of America by 1786. The war was over, but there wasn’t a national military force to secure the nation’s essential trade routes, there wasn’t a national currency to facilitate interstate trade, and there wasn’t a glimmer of compromise on the virulent issue of representation between the large states and the small states.

So a small group of frustrated patriots, meeting at Mann’s Tavern in Annapolis, Maryland, proposed a convention to address this embarrassment of the nation’s affairs. Most of those meeting thought the nation too dear to lose. Still, they weren’t certain the proposed convention would actually convene. An earlier attempt at such a conference had proved unsuccessful.

It took bloodshed on a Massachusetts field to turn the tide.

Shays’ Rebellion

In late 1786, rebels in the northern states, most of them farmers led by Massachusettsan Daniel Shays, rose in armed protest against increasingly high taxes. Though the state militia squelched the rebellion within months, the shortage of federal troops to resist the rebels alarmed the country’s leaders.

Most agreed that if there was to be a strong national government, the Articles of Confederation must be adjusted. If not, there was little hope the new nation could survive.

A Code of Silence

Though it was scheduled to start May 14th in Philadelphia, the 1787 convention didn’t attain a quorum until May 25th. Once it was attained, adopting a code of silence was among the delegates’ first decisions.

No discussion of the proceedings was permitted outside the State House. No sound bites, no interviews, no tavern debates. Each delegate wanted his say without the worry of any spin the public or press might put on a remark taken out of context.

Surprisingly, the men held to the code.

Reaching a Compromise

Delegates from twelve states met over four months that stifling Philadelphia summer.

The men debated immense issues those four months. States’ rights, slavery, the representation of small states versus large states, the power to tax and incur and pay debts, the power to coin money and regulate trade with foreign nations, the power to declare war and maintain armed forces—all these and more were bitterly contested and hotly negotiated.

Finally, after hours of discussion and much contention, the Constitution was signed on Monday, September 17th, 1787.

In spite of their strong personalities and egos, those men were able to compromise. Furthermore, by doing so, they structured a fair and stable government that has served a prospering nation for over two hundred years.

Benjamin Franklin, though he didn’t approve of several provisions in the Constitution, offered his unconditional support that historic morning:

“It therefore astonishes me, sir, to find this system approaching so near to perfection as it does; and I think it will astonish our enemies  .  .  .  Thus I consent, sir, to this Constitution because I expect no better, and because I am not sure it is not the best. The opinions I have had of its errors, I sacrifice to the public good.”¹

Benjamin Franklin

Printer, Inventor, Statesman

George Washington was the first to sign the document that Monday, and men from each of the states in attendance lined up behind him.

Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, Theodor Horydczak Collection, [LC-H814-T-P01-012]

Sharing the News

Needless to say, after four months of secrecy, the public was chomping at the bit to learn what their delegates had accomplished. It affected the populace in a profound way that few of us can appreciate today.

Printers Dunlap and Claypoole typeset the document that Monday night. They sent it to New York by stage early the next day, timing the New York release with Philadelphia’s scheduled Wednesday release.

Remember Franklin’s statement?

“The opinions I have had of its errors, I sacrifice to the public good.”

I don’t think the delegates in 1787 were any more principled or brilliant than our current senators and representatives. Well, maybe I do, but just a smidge. Surely, however, striving for compromise in the name of the public good is something well within our current members’ capabilities.

I, for one, would like to see them try.

The post Constitution Day – The Day A Miracle Occurred on Philadelphia’s Chestnut Street first appeared on Linda Lee Graham.

What’s in it?

1. Shrub Syrup
2. Your choice of mixers

When mixed with sugar, drinking vinegar transforms into a yummy sweet-tart flavored shrub syrup.

Rum from the West Indies was a favorite mixer back in those days

The Syrup

Colonial housewives preserved fruit with sugar. Left long enough, sugared fruit will ferment. The fermented liquid is a flavored vinegar. Frugality being the more of the day, tossing the flavored vinegar wasn’t an option. Waste not, want not. Culinary uses were devised. One was the shrub syrup.

When mixed with sugar, the drinking vinegar transforms into a yummy sweet-tart flavored shrub syrup.

Two sources of bottled shrub syrup are Tait Farms and Shrub & Co. But if you’re ambitious, you can try making your own.

Start with the drinking vinegar. Prepardnesspro.com offers advice on creating drinking vinegar from scratch. Once it’s ready, add 2 cups of fruit to 1 pint of vinegar. Sweeten to taste with 1 1/2 to 2 cups of sugar.

If you’re not ambitious, just add vinegar to sugared fruit. Huffington Post recently published a few recipes online, courtesy of Sweet Paul Magazine.

The Drink

Try mixing the shrub syrup with soda water for a refreshing summer cooler, or spike it for a refreshing summer cocktail. Rum from the West Indies was a favorite mixer back in those days. Still is.

Now, find a mug and enjoy. Probably without cubed ice. To really get in the swing of things drink your shrub from 18th-century replica glassware or pewter-ware. The unique blown glass mug shown below is from the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. What a treasure!

1700s Blown Glass Mug (U.S.) MFA, Boston (William H. Fenn III Glass Collection)

The post 18th-Century Style Shrub first appeared on Linda Lee Graham.

Early accounts claim the Delaware River was the favorite spot to gather. Booths sprang up to cater refreshments and often a spit of meat roasted over a fire. Spectators lined the shores while skaters and sleighs pulled by specially-shod horses skimmed over  the ice.

A good many of the skaters were noted figure skaters (or thought they were, as in the image above).  Alexander Graydon, in his Memoirs of a Life Chiefly Passed in Pennslyvania, wrote:

“ . . . though the Philadelphians have never reduced it to rules like the Londoners, nor connected it with their business like the Dutchmen, I will yet hazard the opinion that they were the best and most elegant skaters in the world. I have seen New England skaters, Old England skaters, and Holland skaters . . .”

It might be noted that this lively picture had a dark side, and drownings were not uncommon.  In the early 1780s a number of gentlemen formed the Humane Society, modeling the organization after similar societies established in Europe for “recovering persons apparently dead from drowning.”  The society assembled an apparatus consisting of drays, hooks, nets, and medicine, all labeled with “plain and full directions for their use.” These apparatuses were deposited at a number of popular spots along the river and reputedly saved lives in more than one instance.

Scene on the River Delaware Historical Society of PA

Ice skating was a popular pastime for the characters in Voices Beckon as well.

“WHY ARE WE WALKING way over here, Mary? We’ve passed several good ponds already.”

“Yes, full of families and children. Society Hill is where the men are, Elisabeth. We’re going to see and be seen.”

Elisabeth smiled, shaking her head. So that’s why Mary was in full dress, her blonde curls sitting just so under her prettiest hat, her new fur muff on display. Well, it couldn’t hurt to try. As much as she told Liam she was looking forward to spinsterhood, in truth she didn’t relish the thought.

And if she had a good time, she would have something to relay to Papa in her next letter. He never asked about her students or her garden. He always asked about her beaus. It was becoming difficult to continually evade the questions he pointedly posed in his letters.

“Here!  Just look, Elisabeth. There must be a dozen young men our age!”  ~Voices Beckon

The post Popular Pastime of the Past – Ice Skating first appeared on Linda Lee Graham.

The post Single Malt with Rules! first appeared on Linda Lee Graham.

Interpreting an eighteenth century reference to the pox can be confusing. There are a number of 

But was it gonorrhea or syphilis? For centuries the distinction was blurry at best. Most, including those in the medical profession, believed the clap (gonorrhea) was simply the first stage of syphilis. The malady might develop into the “great pox,” then again it might not.

It wasn’t until late in the nineteenth century that the bacterium Neisseria gonorrhoea was identified and gonorrhea was officially recognized as a disease distinct from syphilis.

Contracting the dreaded pox was a real concern in the 18th century, and evidence suggests the condom, though expensive, was a recognized preventative.

“Have ye the clap, Liam?”

“No. Benjamin believes he does, though.”

“Oh.” David had to admit that if he’d thought of the risk at all, it was only as some remote possibility. But Benjamin . . . Beni was a dockhand he and Liam had met early on, and they’d spent many a night carousing with him as he’d guided them through the darker side of Philly. Maybe the time had come to give up that distraction, while he was ahead.

“I’m thinking a condom might be a bargain at the price,” Liam said.  ~ Voices Beckon

The post Is He “Clapt or Poxed”? first appeared on Linda Lee Graham.

Known as redingotes d’Anglaise (English raincoats) by the French, and baudruches (French letters), armour, sheaths, and machines by the English, condoms were a booming trade in eighteenth-century London. No matter the dire warnings from the Church, condemning the condom as immoral, and no matter the occasional prominent physician who blasted it as useless, an ever-growing demand created the potential for profit. Whenever that’s the case, commerce finds a way to thrive.

A Sale of English Beauties in the East Indies ~ James Gillray 1786  © The Trustees of the British Museum

Although its value as a contraceptive was known, evidence suggests its primary use was as a preventative. The threat of contracting “the great pox” was a very real concern in the 1700s.

There was no effective cure for the pox, so the promise of prevention was enticing. Payment could be high for that one quick indiscretion while out carousing with one’s mates—and if a lad had a friend, a sailor for Pete’s sake,  who’d vowed he’d been using condoms for years with no sign of the dreaded pox—why wouldn’t he be tempted to consider the condom as well?

Hawked Streetside

London entrepreneurs, not a few of them women, sold their wares in taverns, pubs, barbershops, and apothecaries, as well as hawked them streetside and in open-air markets. See the bale beside the auctioneer in the image above? If you look very closely, you’ll note it’s labeled ‘Mrs. Phillips (the original inventor) Leicester Field London. For the use of the Supreme Council’. Mrs. Phillips was one of the more famous 18th-century condom sellers.

Folding Your Own

The steps were simple:

1. Soak the intestines in water for several hours.
2. Soften the mess by soaking it in a weak lye solution for a day or two, changing the solution every twelve hours.
3. Scrape the mucous membrane off the intestinal material.
4. Soften the remaining matter over the vapor of ‘burning brimstone’ (steam it over hot sulfur).
5. Wash what’s left with lye soap and water.
6. Cut into oblong-shaped pieces and fold up into a sack (about seven inches should do, maybe eight).
7. Punch tiny holes around the top edges and thread the ribbon (pink was especially popular) through those holes.

 Voila! One size fits all.

For the truly ambitious, the moist gut in step six might be molded over an oiled glass cast that has been blown into the appropriate shape.

It’s best not to try any of this at home. The fumes from the sulfur and lye can cause debilitating side effects and the effort might result in a condom riddled with holes. (Hence Cananova’s Party Trick in the image to the right).

Visit the local drugstore instead.

The linen condom was easy to produce as well, provided one was proficient with a needle. But the trade found the gut variety sold better, as the seam on the linen condom proved uncomfortable to customers.

These little devices were expensive, and it was not uncommon for a man to save and reuse his armour. Buying, washing, and reselling used condoms evolved into a lucrative side occupation for those with ready access to a brothel.

The Trade Across the Pond

Now, why this surge of capitalism didn’t catch on in eighteenth-century Philadelphia, I’m not sure. It certainly wasn’t for lack of need. Immigrants from all over the world flowed into the city through its harbor, making Philadelphia the most ethnically and socially diverse city in the new United States, as well as the city with the closest ties to Europe. Venereal disease was epidemic during the last two decades of the 1700s, and casual sex, children borne outside of wedlock, adultery, and prostitution were commonplace.

Nevertheless, it was one industry in which it appears our American forefathers lagged behind. It may be that individuals made do with their own resources, or that the supply of black market condoms smuggled in by the carrying trade was sufficient to fill the demand. But for whatever reason, evidence suggests condoms were not sold openly on Philadelphia’s Market Street.

That began to change in the mid 1790s. Moreau de St. Méry, an ex-patriot from France, visited Philadelphia in 1793 and decided to stay. He opened a  bookstore on Front and Walnut in 1794 and stocked it with condoms as well as books, thinking to provide for the French colonials. He soon found the small items to be in great demand by the Americans.

St. Méry credits himself that “the use of this medium on the vast American continent dates from this time.” And though happy to supply a need and make a profit, he did deride the American customers’ surreptitious purchase and use. By the time he closed up shop in the late 1790s, Philadelphians could make their discreet purchases in any number of establishments.

I think protection would have been on the mind of any randy young lad with a mind to his future, and Liam and David discuss the merit of black market condoms in Voices Beckon.

 “Alex promised to bring a stash of condoms when next he arrives from London. Without taxes, the cost shouldna be too dear. Think of it as an investment in your future, Davey. Why, a careful lad like you, you could make one or two last a year.”

David grimaced. “The Kirk doesn’t condone the use of armour, Liam.”

“And it condones rogering thy neighbor’s wife? Why, ye are a veritable fountain of knowledge today.”

“Widow, not wife.”

“Ahh, a fine distinction, to be sure. Now see, I hadna known that. Leave it to the Kirk.”

David laughed. “Right then. I’ll speak to Alex next he comes.” Or maybe he’d do as he should and stay away from the whores.  ~   Voices Beckon.

Collier, Aine, The Humble Little Condom, A History, (Amherst, New York 2007)

Lyons, Clare, Sex Among the Rabble, An Intimate History of Gender & Power in the Age of Revolution, Philadelphia, 1730-1830 (University of North Carolina Press, NC  2006)

St. Méry , Moreau de,  Moreau de St. Méry’s American Journey (1793-1798), translated and edited by Kenneth Roberts and Anne Roberts, (Garden City, NY 1947)

Image of Market Street:  Mather, Horace, Early Philadelphia: Its People, Life & Progress, (Philadelphia, PA  1917)

The post Seven Steps to Folding Your Own Condom first appeared on Linda Lee Graham.

I booked airline tickets to Glasgow recently, from the comfort of my office chair, with the convenience of my charge card.  No sooner had I clicked the ‘book it’ button, did I begin to dread the thought of the inconvenient delays at the airport, the long security lines, the lousy food I’d be offered (would they offer decent wine?), and the four inches of leg room I’d be allotted in the seven-plus hours it would take to fly from Philadelphia to Glasgow. Prone to travel sickness, I made a mental note to purchase Bonine. And geez, how many months would it take to pay off this charge? Why didn’t I calculate that before I clicked the button?

Wow . . . I think perhaps I’ve lost my perspective.

Would my inconvenient delay involve waiting for days, maybe even weeks—long past the time my meager budget for lodging had been depleted—while the powers that be waited for a favorable wind?

Would I stand in line at the harbor for hours, only to find when I had finally reached the front, that the ship was already full? Or that the ticket I’d purchased this morning was for a ship that had sailed yesterday?

Would my food for the next six to twelve weeks be unrefrigerated, several years stale, or contain maggots?  Would my water have come straight from the foul river, poured into a filthy cask half full with water remaining from the last voyage?

How many passengers would share my six by three berth? Two? Three? Would they have lice? Would I disembark with lice as a result?

Would I contract typhus, dysentery, or smallpox?

Many of those immigrating to America paid via indentured servitude, not American Express. They sold their future services for a number of years—years, not months—to an American looking for a servant. Would I be committing years of my paycheck in exchange for this ticket?

Thankfully . . . no. To all of the above.

An Eyewitness Account

Gottleb Mittelberger, a German schoolmaster, traveled from Europe to Philadelphia in the mid 1700s. His diary left a vivid eyewitness account of the journey:

 “. . . during the voyage there is on board these ships terrible misery, stench, fumes, horror, vomiting, many kinds of seasickness, fever, dysentery, headache, heat, constipation, boils, scurvy, cancer, mouth rot, and the like, all of which come from the old and sharply-salted food and meat, also from very bad and foul water, so that many die miserably.

Add to this want of provisions, hunger, thirst, frost, heat, dampness, anxiety, want, afflictions, and lamentations, together with other trouble, as e.g., the lice abound so frightfully, especially on sick people, that they can be scraped off the body. The misery reaches a climax when a gale rages for two or three nights and days, so that every one believes that the ship will go to the bottom with all human beings on board. In such a visitation the people cry and pray most piteously.

No one can have an idea of the sufferings which women in confinement have to bear with their innocent children on board these ships. Few of this class escape with their lives; many a mother is cast into the water with her child as soon as she is dead. One day, just as we had a heavy gale, a woman in our ship, who was to give birth and could not give birth under the circumstances, was pushed through a loophole (porthole) in the ship and dropped into the sea, because she was far in the rear of the ship and could not be brought forward.”

Other diaries from the eighteenth and early nineteenth century survive as well, and the theme of misery in the crossing is commonplace in all. The man wasn’t exaggerating.

I’d wager that in 200 years people will be able to reach the other side of the world in a matter of minutes, even seconds, straight from home.  How, I don’t know, but I’ll bet they will.

I wonder if they’ll whine of the slight headache experienced as a result of such flash travel. Again, I’ll bet they will.

“We’ll be in Philadelphia by nightfall, Liam. What’s the first thing ye plan to do?”

“Eat.”

David laughed. “Aye. And drink. A full pint of anything wet not laced with vinegar or tar.”                                            ~ Voices Beckon

 

 

 

“Passage to America, 1750,” EyeWitness to History, www.eyewitnesstohistory.com (2000).

Edwin C. Guillet, The Great Migration, The Atlantic Crossing by Sailing-Ship 1770-1860 (Canada 1967)

The post Crossing the Atlantic first appeared on Linda Lee Graham.

The cast of characters in Voices Beckon crossed the Atlantic in the winter of 1783-4, on a ship named the Industry.

The ship itself was real enough. She sailed out of Bristol, England on November 7, 1783, destined for Philadelphia. She was a brig: a two-masted, square-rigged, merchant vessel, under 250 tons. That’s not big, and quarters would have been snug.

Whether she carried passengers in steerage or a hold filled with merchandise, I’m not certain–although with the American Revolution just over, I think it’s likely she carried passengers.

The winter of 1783 was uncommonly severe, and it took Captain Honeywell three months to reach Philadelphia, a journey that might normally take less than two months. It stands to reason that food and water supplies, foul or not, were sorely depleted by journey’s end.

The post The Industry first appeared on Linda Lee Graham.

The Neighborhood

Built in 1759 on the banks of the swampy, mosquito-infested Dock Creek, the Man Full of Trouble was a humble establishment. It catered to the “lower sort,” leaving the more genteel establishments to men like John Adams and Thomas Jefferson.

It was located in one of the worst parts of town. Tanneries emptied their waste into the adjacent Dock Creek, effectively turning the creek into an open sewer and a deadly source of disease.

Once residents petitioned the city to take action, the tavern’s surrounding neighborhood improved. The clean-up was completed in a series of slow steps. By the 1780s most of the filth of Dock Creek was filled in and paved over.

The Drawbridge and Dock Creek, Early Philadelphia, Its People, Life & Progress, {{PD-US}}

A Man loaded with Mischief, or Matrimony. A Monkey, a Magpie, and Wife; Is the true Emblem of Strife © Trustees of the British Museum. (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

Its Name

The tavern may have first been called Man with a Load of Mischief. Its earliest sign depicted a man carrying a woman piggyback.

Today’s sign depicts a less boisterous image—a man with a monkey on his shoulder and a woman on his arm.

Today’s sign

Good Entertainment A New Book of Figure Studies © Trustees of the British Museum. (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

Its Patrons

The Man was licensed to sell only beer and cider—no wine or spirits. Near the waterfront, the establishment was frequented by sailors, dockhands, shipwrights, sailmakers, port merchants and the like. It was a place to eat, drink, smoke and exchange high talk and loose gossip.

It’s probable its patrons drank primarily from leather cups, pewter mugs, and wooden vessels. Excavators found little evidence of drinking glasses in the cellar.

Travelers lodged on the second floor. Space was scarce, and beds would often hold three to four men at a time. When those were full, there was also the floor and the staircase.

The cellar housed the kitchen and storage area. It also served as a dormitory of sorts for the hired help, both men and women.

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