Mourning Cloak - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to this week's Memorial weekend edition of Postal History Sunday.  This particular holiday has its roots in an event that was initially called Decoration Day, which originated at the end of the United States Civil War.  The first recognized widely celebrated Decoration Day was held in 1868 and by the late 1800s several states and cities had recognized the holiday.  After World War I, Memorial Day was expanded to remember those who had fallen in all wars.  If you would like to learn more, you can check this Public Broadcasting Systems page.

As I was growing up, Memorial Day was presented to me as a time to remember those who had passed before us, as well as those who had fallen as members of the armed forces.  It was also a time to gather with family and partake of good food in a park.  Over time, as Tammy and I became involved in teaching, Memorial Day weekend became dominated by college and high school graduation ceremonies.  So now, we celebrate those who have successfully completed a stage of their lives even while we contemplate lives that were lived and have come to a close.

Shown above is a printed death announcement for Marie-Victor Chaverot, who died in Saint Alban, France, on June 12, 1865.  The death notice was apparently printed on June 13 according to the printed notation at the bottom and the funeral itself was to be held on the morning of June 15th.

The content of the announcement is not all that different from what we might see in a modern obituary.  The living relatives are listed at the beginning, requesting the recipient's attendance for the funeral ceremony of a 25-year old man who died of an undisclosed illness or injury.  Unlike many obituaries, there are no details provided regarding the life of Marie-Victor.  Instead, the focus is simply on the facts as they pertained to getting to and participating in the ceremony.

 

This item was mailed by folding the sheet of paper (a folded letter sheet) over on itself with the announcement in the center of the fold.  Because this was pre-printed, it could qualify for reduced postage as long as the item was not sealed.  And, sure enough, there is no evidence that any kind of wax or gummed seal had been applied.  This allowed the postal clerks to inspect the contents to be sure no additional personal correspondence was included.  As a result, the item only cost 10 centimes (instead of 20 centimes) to mail.  

The instructions for attendance included a procession to the parish church of St Charles.  The procession itself would travel down the Grande Rue de la Bourse in St Etienne, France.  The map below is part of an 1877 engraving that was attributed to "Atlas National contenant La Geographie de la France et de ses colonies", by F. de La Brugere and Jules Trousset. Published in Paris by Artheme Fayard. 

I was not able to uncover interesting information regarding the Chaverot family - which certainly could have been spelled in various other ways, making the trail harder to follow.  On the other hand, I did find it interesting that the church itself was already deemed insufficient for the demand in St. Etienne.  As early as 1828, there were plans to build a larger church nearby - I am guessing at the Place Marengo shown at the map.  However, the new church was not constructed until the 1910s, eventually being given the designation of a cathedral in 1970.

The black border had meaning

A prominent feature of our first folded letter that contained the death announcement for Marie-Victor Chaverot and the envelope shown above is a black border on the stationery.  These borders can be found in varying widths and are normally printed in black ink.  There are collectors who specialize in postal history items that feature this decoration and they refer to such items as mourning covers.

Shown above is an envelope that was mailed in 1867 from San Francisco, California to Edinburgh, Scotland (North Briton).  The letter was posted on September 10, crossed overland to New York and then traveled over the Atlantic Ocean, arriving at Edinburgh on October 13, a little over one month after the date of mailing.

When we turn the envelope over, we can see that the black border actually includes the fold over and the flap.  Clearly, this letter was not printed matter because there is evidence that the envelope was sealed.  Our other clue is that the postage paid, 24 cents, would have covered the letter rate for mail from the U.S. to Scotland in 1867.  

We can even zoom in and look at the area where the flap was torn to open the envelope.  You might notice that there was an embossed design on the envelope flap that, unfortunately, did not survive the opening all that well.

This time around, there are no contents that come with the envelope.  We can certainly make an educated guess that the contents included an announcement of the death of someone Mr. Walsh in Edinburgh might have known in San Francisco.  But it certainly need not have been limited to the unhappy news of someone's departure from this life.  Correspondence between San Francisco and Edinburgh took enough time that I suspect other news was also included. 

Mourning was big business

A series of web pages that focus on the Victorian Era mourning rituals include a brief discussion on mourning stationery.  It is here that author Alison Petch makes a statement that the width of the border might have something to do with the depth of mourning.  "The closer relation the mourner was, the more mourning costume was prescribed and the longer the period of deep mourning." (Petch from this page)  So, is it possible that these borders reflected the relationship of the sender to the deceased?

The envelope shown above was mailed from France to London, England in 1867.  The 40 centime stamp properly paid the rate for a simple letter between the two nations.  Apparently, George Blackwell did not have a permanent address at that time, so the letter was addressed to the "Post Office" where Mr. Blackwell would have had to go to pick up his mail.

In this case, the black band is certainly much thinner than our previous two items.  Does that mean that the sender of this letter was not currently in "deep mourning?"  Or was it simply the stationery design of choice?  Perhaps others who have studied the protocols of mourning and sending notices would have a better guess than I do.  But, it seems to me that you would use what you have - the width of the border is just what it was.  I suppose one's adherence to protocol had a lot to do with one's affluence.  If you didn't have the money, you didn't necessarily follow all of the protocol.

In the website previously mentioned, Petch suggests that "Victorian mourning costume has always been regarded in terms of gross expenditure and elaborate etiquette, and, according to one source, 'snobbery, social climbing and profits of the mourning industry.' "  Elsewhere, it is suggested that even people with modest means would save funds for proper funerals and mourning.

This time around, the back of the envelope did not carry the border around the edge of the flap.  Instead, it stuck to the edge of the envelope on both the front and back.  This envelope also has an embossed design - this time it is the monogram "A B."  It seems logical to make the assumption that the monogram references a relative of George Blackwell's who sent the letter in the first place.

After a little digging, I found the Blackwell family papers in the Library of Congress and it is likely this envelope was sent by Anna Blackwell (1816-1900) to her youngest sibling, George W. Blackwell (1841-1912).  One document written by Anna is datelined Paris in 1887 and it discusses the changing status of women in France.  You can go to the bottom of page 10 and see the use of "a.b." to close a portion of the writing. 

Apparently, Anna was a well known journalist and newspaper correspondent for forty-two years, based in Paris and, later, Triel, France.  

Mourning covers saw the height of their use during the Victorian period (1837 to early 1900s) and they were part of the business of burying the dead.  However, just because we see an envelope with a black border, qualifying that item as a mourning cover, it does not necessarily follow that the content was limited to a death announcement. 

Certainly a death announcement might include additional news of family and friends, especially when the Atlantic Ocean separated the sender from the recipient (as it does in this case).  We also need to remember that a person who was still observing a period of mourning might feel compelled to announce that fact by placing all correspondence in a mourning envelope until the mourning period was complete.

Often, like the envelope shown above, there are no contents enclosed, so we cannot say one way or another.  We can only make the educated guess that it was likely some of the content was related to someone who had passed on.

 

Would you like to learn more?

If the topic of mourning covers is interesting to you, there is a  Mourning Stamps and Covers Club that focuses on this very topic.  If you take the link to that site, there are a couple of exhibits that display many additional examples of mourning stationery.  There is also a book by Ernest Mosher titled "Mourning Covers: the Cultural and Postal History of Letters Edged in Black" that would be useful to those who would like to dive into the topic much more deeply than I have here.

And that seems like a decent place to stop for the day!  I hope you enjoyed this week's entry.  Have a fine remainder of your day and an excellent week to come.

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Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location.

Halfa No More - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to this week's edition of Postal History Sunday!  I hope you have had a good week and that you have taken the opportunity to tuck those worries into a cardboard box and bury them under the other boxes you keep there because... well... they're just good boxes.  And you never can have enough good boxes.

This week, we are going to travel to Northeast Africa and time travel back to 1939 where we will encounter the travels of a letter bearing the images of camels on its stamps.  Remember, you can always click on an image to see a larger version of the picture.

Sent from Khartoum, Sudan in 1839 via Egypt by surface mail (boat and land) to Landover, Maryland, I will readily admit that this particular envelope is not the most compelling item if you want to trace its entire route.  Once it gets to Egypt, there are no markings that illustrate how or when it gets to the next step.

However, there are so many other ways that a piece of postal history can hook you and keep your interest.

The Stamps Bring Something to the Table

So many stamp designs over the years feature the faces of royalty or statesmen.  I have heard the joke that early period stamps often feature a bunch of "old, dead guys" more than once.  So, suddenly, you see a series of older stamps that feature camels.  It catches your imagination in a new way - perhaps even transporting you to that place along the Nile River where a postman might actually ride a camel to deliver the mail.

The story of the creation of this design, according to the Stanley Gibbons firm, was that the designer, Captain E.A. Stanton, saw the arrival of the regimental post via camel, instead of the normal riverboat delivery.  This inspired him to create this proposed design for the new stamps of Sudan to be used as the English asserted their control in that region. 

This design was first put in use in 1898 and was still the postage stamp design that saw primary use until the 1950s when Sudan became an independent republic, freeing itself from Egypt and the United Kingdom.  Even then, there were some stamps that retained this design - I guess they knew a good thing when they saw it?

According to philatelic lore (philately is the study and/or collection of postage stamps) the issuance of this stamp led to some religious controversy.  Stamp paper typically had a watermark (go here to learn what a watermark is if you don't know) that was impressed so that it would appear on each postage stamp.  It just so happens that the first issue of the post-rider and camel had watermarks that depicted a stylized rosette featuring a cross.  Much of Sudan was populated by followers of Islam who found this to be objectionable.  The watermark was changed for the 1902 printing of the design to feature a crescent moon and star to avoid further conflict over this issue.

I mention that this is 'philatelic lore' because I have yet to find a direct reference to the "watermark conflict" outside of the hobby.  The earliest reference I have seen thus far is a 1905 paragraph in The Connoisseur: An Illustrated Magazine for Collectors, vol 11.  I do not doubt that even something as small as a watermark could be a touchy issue, considering the tensions in that region at the time.  An excellent summary of the religious context in Sudan from 1898 to 1914 can be found at this link.  Even so, I have to wonder if it was as big of a thing as it is made out to be - after all, there were plenty of other reasons for tension in Sudan.  Perhaps stamp collectors sometimes have an outsized idea as to the influence of stamp designs and paper watermarks?

The stamps on this particular envelope were printed on paper watermarked with a series of the letters "S G" for "Sudan Government."  This paper was used for stamps created from 1927 and into the 1940s.  That makes sense since this was mailed in 1939!

There you are - an example of how the postage stamps on a piece of postal history can take you on a journey that may have little to do with the actual item.  No wonder this hobby can be fun!

The First Half of the Journey

So, the camel stamps got me to consider picking this item up for two dollars.  I always liked those camel post-rider stamps, so why not?  But, the curiosity in me now wanted to figure out how this letter got from Khartoum to Maryland!  The first hint was a poorly struck marking on the back of the envelope.  Since I was not particularly good with Sudanese geography, this took me some time to figure.

The marking reads: Shellal-Halfa TPO 10 JAN 39 No 2

The Shellal-Halfa Traveling Post Office (TPO) connected the Egyptian Sate Railways (El Shallal was the railway station) with the Sudan Government Railways at Wadi Halfa.  This piece of railway was 210 miles in length.  Until July, 1951, all surface mail from Sudan was sorted on the Sudanese TPO (rather than the Egyptian) and these marks usually appear on the back of each mail item.

Well - now I have some ideas as to where this item traveled!

The original  1885 Egypt-Sudan map can be found at this link if you wish to view it at the Library of Congress site.

The map above can give you an idea as to the geography that is dominated by the presence of the River Nile.  For most of the land north of Khartoum, anything outside of the Nile valley is dry, hot desert.  Most settlements were (and are) close to the river as it travels through Sudan and Egypt.

At the time this map was made, the Suez Canal had been in operation for almost 20 years.  Major ports of departure were Alexandria and Port Said for ships on the Mediterranean Sea.  It is interesting to note that Shallal is identified as Egyptian, Wadi Halfa as Nubian and Khartoum as Sudanese.

And, as a bit of foreshadowing, the first dam on the Nile, now known as the Low Dam, but known then as the Assuan Dam, was in place to help control the flood/drought cycle of the Nile in Egypt.  The article cited below gives excellent details on the construction of this first dam.   

The Assuan Dam, Jstor article, H. D. (1913). The Assuan Dam. Journal of the Royal African Society, 12(46), 200-201. Retrieved January 29, 2021, from http://www.jstor.org/stable/715871

This dam was initially built from 1899 to 1902 and was raised twice - once in 1907-1912 and again 1929-1933.  So, by the time this letter was mailed, the Low Dam was... ahem... at its highest.  Sorry - I had to. 

You might notice the locks to the West of the dam for boat traffic, the rail line would be to the East and Shallal would be northeast of the dam itself.  Apparently, the old rail station can be visited - for those who want to see something a bit off the normal tourist path.

The map above is taken from the original 1928 Anglo-Egyptian Sudan map found again on the Library of Congress site.  If you look, you can see both the River Nile and the Sudanese rail route from Khartoum to Wadi Halfa.  You should take note that the rail line breaks away from the river at the point the Nile turns back southward.

This railway would be the mail route this letter would have taken in 1939, transferring to Egyptian rail north of the border on its way to Shallal (and the Low Dam) and then Cairo.  From there, I can only guess as to whether the item went to Alexandria or Suez (and then to Port Said).  From that point, we can suppose it went to Brindisi (in Italy), then by land to Ostende (Belgium) and took a ship across the Atlantic from one port or another.  With no additional marks or dates, it is impossible to be sure.

But, I've covered those lands with other items before.  It's the area around the River Nile that is new to me, so it makes sense that I would want to concentrate there anyway!

Halfa No More

My how things have changed.  Wadi Halfa, once so important as a connection between Sudan and Egypt, is no more, covered by the waters (Lake Aswan) created when the High Aswan Dam was put into place in 1971.  This dam is just South of the low dam (by Shallal) and the city of Aswan (Assuon) is in that area now.  

If you look at the Google Earth picture below, you can see the Aswan Dam in the foreground.  The Low Dam is above it in the picture where the two channels of the river meet again.

It is absolutely amazing how descriptions of the new Aswan Dam change when you consider the context of the person(s) looking at it.  The Egyptian peoples north of the dam (and down river) benefit from control over a flood/drought cycle that historically caused problems.  They focus on the positives of hydroelectric power and consistent river navigation and irrigation systems that this huge dam creates for them.  For them, there is a sense of great national pride.

On the other hand, over 100,000 people, mostly Nubians, had to be relocated as Lake Nassar flooded their former homes.  Cultural sites, such as Abu Simel and the Temple of Dakka had to be taken apart and moved to avoid destruction.  The effort to create a new agricultural project (New Halfa) has been cited as a poorly planned effort.  And, environmentalists are not always so sure controlling the Nile has been the best idea.  

And I learned all of this simply because I wanted to find Wadi Halfa on a map and I wanted to find Wadi Halfa on a map because I had a single envelope mailed from Khartoum to Maryland.

It has been said that travel is important to help a person learn and grow.  But, if you can't travel, buy an envelope with camels for two dollars and see where that takes you.  You just might be amazed what you will learn as you take some travels with your mind.

Thank you for joining me yet again for another Postal History Sunday.  If you have questions you would like me to address or topics you might enjoy seeing here, please let me know.  And, until next time - have a great week!

Want to know more about Sudan stamps and postal history?  This site points to several resources. 

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Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location.

A Special End of Pandemic Postal History Sunday

 Welcome to this week's edition of Postal History Sunday!  This week, we're going to do something ...erm... special, to celebrate (?) the termination of the federal government's emergency declaration for the pandemic.  This makes some sense, since Postal History Sunday was created as an effort to reach out to others during the earlier part of the pandemic.  But, the truth of the matter is this.  Both of us at the Genuine Faux Farm are recovering from our first bout with the virus.  Looking at the computer screen and concentrating are more difficult than usual.  

This week, we're going to make an adjustment to address some of the limitations I find myself with.  We'll go back to our Postal History Sunday roots and simply share a few items, without getting too deep into any one of them.  There is no theme other than these are things I appreciate and enjoy.

An uncommon destination overseas

It makes sense (to me at least) that the first thing I would select bears a 24 cent stamp from the United States 1861 design.  What doesn't make sense is that I would select an item that is complex (given my opening).  Still, we'll save many details for a future Postal History Sunday and make it easier on me.

This letter was mailed at the Clyde, NY, post office on July 19, 1862.  Initially, the sender attempted to mail this letter without paying any postage.  While the postmaster at Clyde felt this was okay to do, the New York Foreign Mail Office did not agree.  They put a marking on the envelope that reads "Returned For Postage" and sent it back to Clyde.  That's when the stamps were applied and a new Clyde postmark dated August 6 was struck on the envelope.

The letter was sent back to New York where they recognized it as paid and put it on a ship on August 9 so it could cross the Atlantic.

The destination of this letter was Madeira Island, located off the northwest coast of Africa.  Madeira was colonized by Portugal in the 1420s and was under their administration in 1862.  Ships from Southampton (England) and Lisbon (Portugal) regularly sailed though on the way west to the Americas.

This letter crossed the Atlantic from New York, arriving in London.  From London, the letter was sent through France and Spain to get to Lisbon, on its way to Madeira.  The recipient was required to pay 80 reis (Portuguese currency) to complete payment of the local postage, which could not be prepaid by the sender.

An interesting Iowa destination

Since I told you there was no particular theme today, I feel like it is perfectly fine for me to move from an 1862 letter from the US to a very uncommon destination to something that has to do with chickens.  Yes, I suppose some of you are going to complain a bit about whiplash with the drastic about-face on the topic.  But, hey, this is what brain fog does to a person.  One moment, they're talking about the the route through Lisbon and the next they're wondering if the Sure Hatch Incubator Company in Fremont, Nebraska sold much product in the early 1900s.

The letter shown above was sent under the 2 cents per ounce rate for internal United States mail.  The destination is South Amana, which is part of the Amana Colonies in Iowa.  South Amana is one of six communities established in 1855 (a seventh, named Homestead, was added in 1861).  The Amanas were established as a communal society populated by Germans who had established a settlement near Buffalo, NY in the 1840s after having left Europe to seek a location where they would have religious freedom for their belief system. 

Image of Sure Hatch Incubator Co (1912) from Nebraska Memories (viewed 5/13/23)

There is, currently, a Surehatch Incubator Company in Missouri that still sells product.  Whether it is the same business (or if that business has shared roots), I do not know.

For those who are curious, we traditionally buy "day-old" chicks for the Genuine Faux Farm from hatcheries.  We have only actively hatched our own poultry once.  It's certainly something we could have done, but you have to draw the line somewhere.  In this case, we decided hatching new birds was on the "other" side of the lines we drew.

Destination London

Sometimes it is important to simply look at an item and appreciate it for what it is.  This 1865 folded business letter was sent from Amsterdam (Holland) to London (England).  There are 15 Dutch cents in postage, properly paying the rate.  The stamps themselves are canceled (marked to avoid their re-use) with the word "Franco" which means "franked" or "postage paid."  I like this item because it is clean, neat, and pretty easy to decipher. 

According to the postmarks, this letter took a couple days in January to get to its destination.  The addressee, Grosscurth and Luboldt, was listed in an 1891 Trade Directory as dealers and importers of bismuth.  The contents of the folded letter may refer to a supply of "crushed" bismuth in Constantinople.  However, the writing is a bit difficult to decipher in places and I wanted to keep things simple, remember?

taken from this location

I was able to find this snippet from the January 8, 1909, London Gazette that announced the dissolution of the partnership of Grosscurth and Luboldt.  I was even able to find an announcement for Mr. Julius Grosscurth's death in 1924 (Dec 23 at age 88).

At the risk of perpetuating an "urban myth," I have read multiple places, that one Nicolas Papaffy was able to perpetuate the fraud of convincing people in the London Exchange to invest in a process whereby he claimed to be able to transform bismuth and aluminum to silver.  As a result, the prices of this metal were, for a time, artificially high, until Papaffy absconded with the money and left the newly founded business in London.  I can trace this story to a particular science text cited by several internet sources, but I have found no contemporary references after a short search.

And that's where I'll stop for the day.  I hope you found something enjoyable in today's entry.

Have a great remainder of your day and a fine week to come.

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Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location.

Valuable Real Estate - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to this week's edition of Postal History Sunday.

I'd like to start by acknowledging the many kind words passed my way at Westpex by individuals who have enjoyed these writings for the past (almost) three years.  I heard from persons who I would consider to be very knowledgeable postal historians and others whose expertise landed in philately (postage stamps) and revenue stamps.  I even heard from one individual who was not terribly interested in any of these hobbies - though they were exposed to it by being related to an individual who is.

I am aware that there are many who read Postal History Sunday that might not know what a "Westpex" might be.  Westpex is an event that could be likened to a convention where persons who are interested in postage stamps, postal history, revenue stamps and (sometimes) other paper collectibles gather.  There are many such shows that occur in various locations.  The letters "pex" for "philatelic exhibition" are typically added to create the name of the particular event - like Chicagopex, which I have mentioned in the past.  Westpex was held in San Francisco last weekend.

The other thing I was reminded of is that there is still some mystery as to how my last name should be pronounced.  For those who do not know, my name is Rob Faux - and the last is pronounced "Fox."

Mystery solved!

Philatelic exhibitions provide collectors, such as myself, opportunities to view and perhaps acquire new items for our collections.  I thought I would share a couple of items that caught my attention and some of the reasons I found them interesting.

Shown above is a folded letter that was mailed at the New Orleans (Louisiana) post office on September 9.  It is not hard to see why I came to that conclusion - based on the big, red, circular date stamp at the top left.  The three cents in postage were paid by the stamp and that stamp was canceled with two round grid markings in black ink.  We often refer to a used postage stamp as having received a cancellation, which refers to the various postal markings intended to deface the stamp and make it difficult for someone to reuse it.

An Act of Congress issued on March 3, 1851 reduced the letter rate for mail in the United States to 3 cents per 1/2 ounce for items sent no more than 3000 miles (effective on July 1 of that year).  At the same time, a 3 cent postage stamp was issued to show prepayment of this rate.  In addition, this act authorized the creation of a 3 cent coin (the first of its type) to provide the public with a convenient method to pay for these stamps. 

If you are interested in a summary of the internal US postage rates at the time this folded letter was mailed, it is shown below:

Letter Mail Rates in the United States July 1, 1851 - March 31, 1855

Distance	Rate	Per
up to 3000 miles prepaid	3 cents	1/2 ounce
over 3000 miles prepaid	6 cents	1/2 ounce
up to 3000 miles unpaid	5 cents	1/2 ounce
over 3000 miles unpaid	10 cents	1/2 ounce

So, our folded letter was mailed only a few months after these new postage rates were put into a effect.  

Let me set the scene for what follows.  In the 1840s and 1850s, a movement was gaining momentum to encourage mail carriers to provide affordable postage rates.  As recently as 1845 (just 6+ years prior), a similar letter from New Orleans to Providence, Rhode Island, would have cost 25 cents in postage instead of 3 cents!

In other words, many who sent letters treated the surface area on a folded letter as extremely valuable real estate - and every opportunity to use it well was taken.

Remember, you can click on images to see a larger version

Just two weeks ago, I talked a bit about folded letters.  This letter consists of a single larger sheet of paper that has been folded in half to create, essentially, four pages - or sides.  One side needed to be used as the outside wrapper for an address and postage.  The rest would face inward once the letter was fully folded for mailing so the contents would not be revealed unless the letter was opened.

Now look carefully.  The parts of this page (or side) that would get folded in is covered with printed information.  The sender of this letter was not about to let that valuable space go unused. 

Two more sides on this folded letter are also covered with pre-printed material.  The content itself was referred to as a price(s) current, or a market report, that provided recent product volumes and values in the New Orleans area.  Much of the report centers around agricultural products, which makes sense as the letter was mailed by a Wood & Lowe, who were cotton brokers in New Orleans.

The printed content actually provides information for multiple years leading up to September of 1851.  The text itself is actually pretty small.  If a person did not need reading glasses before they started reading this folded letter, they might once they completed the task.

One of the four pages also includes a personal note to the recipient.  The docket at the top reads "Sept 8th, 1851," the day prior to the New Orleans post office placing the red postmark on this cover.  The letter starts with discussion of the cotton crop.  Otherwise, this is pretty much a standard business letter that is essentially encouraging the recipient to participate in the purchase of the year's cotton crop. 

Some of you might remember that printed matter, such as what we saw on three sides of this letter sheet, qualified for a cheaper postage rate.  If this item had not included this personal correspondence, it would have also qualified. But since this sheet was printed in such a way that one side was left blank, the intent was clearly to allow space for the personal sales pitch.

The handwriting here is like much handwriting, there can be places where it is harder to read.  But, what I am going to show you next will make this look simple!

Our second folded letter was mailed in New York City to Southampton in the UK.  It entered the mailbag to cross the Atlantic Ocean on July 8 and was taken out of the mailbag in Liverpool on July 18. The letter was carried on the Inman Line steamship named City of Boston, which arrived at Liverpool on July 18 (which nicely matches the postmark for Liverpool at the left).

There are two postmarks on the back of this letter.  One is a London postmark for July 19 and the other is a Southampton postmark for the same day.  So, we can guess that Edward Palk received this missive at that time.  The docket at the left in dark ink reads "Mr Parsons June 1865."  Indeed, the letter inside is datelined "Cleveland, June 1865," which provides us with the date and location for the starting point of this letter.  After taking some time deciphering the contents of the letter, it seems it was written over a period of several days, and it is possible Mr. John Parsons was traveling as well.

Everything I say about the contents of the letter is still open to further study - because reading the letter is not easy.

Rather than spend more time telling you why it was hard to read, let me just show you.

This is the first page of the letter.  Or at least, this is where the letter starts.  Mr. Parsons used a technique called "cross-writing" in an effort to avoid using more sheets of paper that would have caused the letter to exceed a half ounce in weight.  Exceeding that half ounce would have required another 24 cents in postage and, apparently that cost was worth expending the effort of writing in a lighter ink first in one direction.  Later content was written OVER the lighter ink in a darker ink and going in a direction that is vertical, instead of horizontal, on the sheet.

This is certainly a technique that was developed during a time when the cost of mail was extremely high.  But, by the time we get to 1865, postage had come down significantly.  This interesting blog by Kathy Haas makes a valid suggestion that cross-writing might not have always been used because the writer was unable to afford the cost of paper and postage.  It is possible that this was "an ingrained habit or a practice associated with virtuous thrift."

In other words, it is possible that Mr. Parsons was signaling his own virtue to Mr. Palk by... um... making it really hard for Mr. Palk to read the contents of the letter.

the top of the page shown above

The letter opens, "My Dear Friend..."  But, after taking a few moments to attempt to read this writing, I have come to the conclusion that Mr. Palk was either truly a very dear friend OR this was a passive aggressive way to let Mr. Palk know who was better than whom.

The letter actually starts out with some business, acknowledging a draft (for money transfer) and discussion of the status of an account.  The rest of the letter seems to cover a lot of ground.  On the whole, the letter seems to be quite conversational - so perhaps Mr. Parsons did consider Mr. Palk a "dear friend."

Later in the letter, Mr. Parsons speculates on some issues he has read in the paper about Europe.  For example, I see mentions of the Fenians, an Irish nationalist society on this page where the writing runs vertically.  But, I find it very interesting to read his comment that "now that the war is over..." houses were becoming available that were less expensive to purchase than rent.  Apparently, it had been difficult to find rental properties "at any price."

Some of the cross-writing has a notation that reads "July 3," which makes it clear that this letter was written over a period of days.  Mr. Parsons follows the date by saying "tomorrow will be a great one for firecrackers and.. speeches."  No doubt, in reference to Independence Day celebrations.

Perhaps someday I will make the effort to read this letter in its entirety.  Or, I'll just take something for the headache I feel coming on about now.  The handwriting itself is fairly legible.  It is more a matter of familiarity.  Words like "their," "friend," and even "acknowledge" are recognizable because they are common words I know and use.  But, because we are not familiar with the names, time-period references, colloquialisms and subject areas that the writer and recipient are, we are often left to guess - often badly - at the key words that could unlock the content fully.

Bonus Material - Shubael Hutchins

Going back to our first letter, we find that it is addressed to S. Hutchins & Co of Providence, Rhode Island.  We could be dealing with either Shubael Hutchins (2nd of that name) or Shubael Hutchins III, both of whom might well have been part of the business at the time.  The latter Shubael apparently served as president of the American Bank in Providence from 1855 to 1868.  It is a decent guess that the former was a businessman who dealt in dry goods at either the wholesale or retail level.

With that information, I made the educated guess that the elder Shubael Hutchins was the namesake for a drygoods business - hence the reason he would receive a letter from New Orleans regarding the cotton crop.  The Colenda Digital Repository provides support for this guess as it features a letter sent to Hutchins regarding damaged cotton bales.

A small portion of the price-current

One never knows what you can uncover once you are fairly sure you have identified the recipient (or sender) of a piece of mail.  In this case, I actually ran into a court case regarding the will of Shubael Hutchins (the 2nd), and the opinion was published in 1907.  Since Hutchins had died in 1867, this certainly gives one pause - a forty year gap to finalize parts of will seems excessive to me.

Apparently a key issue being considered was this part of the will (most of the rest of the will had been executed successfully):

"To the treasurer of any one or more societies or organizations whose object is the improvement and education of the colored people of the south, I give the sum of ten thousand dollars for the uses and purposes of said societies but I leave it wholly to the judgment of my said trustees as to the time when, how much of, and to what society or societies or organizations said sum or any part thereof shall be paid having reference to the ability of my estate and the Efficiency of any of said societies in the above object"

At issue was the contention by the trustees that they could not find an appropriate society to give the money to, so they wanted to be granted the ability to NOT follow through with this portion of the will.  Cutting right to the chase, the court held that the money was for a valid charitable cause and was not void due to "indefiniteness or uncertainty."

In other words the ruling was saying "figure it out people and get that money where it is supposed to go."

Perhaps there were stipulations that the organization needed to be in Rhode Island.  But, it certainly wasn't a matter of finding where the people of color might have been.  Shown below is part of a map produced in the early 1860s and based on 1860 census data.  I selected the areas closer to New Orleans to make the point.  Each county was shaded to illustrate the percentage of the population that was enslaved.  The darkest shade indicates populations where slaves comprised 80% (or higher) of the total.  Much of the area upstream form New Orleans on the Mississippi River fit that description.

Portion of map published by US Coast Guard, from American Yawp.

I find the irony of this donation from the estate to be very interesting.  Clearly, Hutchins and his business benefited greatly from cotton.  Cotton, in turn, relied heavily on slave populations to produce sufficient crop for people like Hutchins to trade.  Did Shubael Hutchins make the connection and add this into the will as salve for his soul?  Were the trustees of the estate reluctant to follow through with his wishes because they didn't really want the colored people of the south to become educated?

To put this in perspective, $10,000 in 1867, the year Hutchins died, had the same buying power then that $380,000 has in today's world.  It wasn't going to keep a school or other organization running indefinitely, but it certainly could have made a difference for a few people.

For those who might like to learn more about the role of cotton in the US Civil War, I found this blog to be interesting.  If you want something with even more depth to content with appropriate citations, this article on American Yawp fits the bill.

While we will never know the full story of Shubael Hutchins and his bequest, these are events and issues worth pondering and considering - thank you for allowing me to do so in today's writing.

I think we'll call it a day.  I hope you enjoyed this edition of Postal History Sunday.

For those who are curious, I also uncovered interesting material on Edward Palk (our second featured item), which I think I will reserve for future Postal History Sunday!  Hey!  I need to save something for later, don't I?

Have a fine remainder of your day and an excellent week to come.

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Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location.