Through A Glass Darkly

July 21, 2011Posted inDanville Green, From the archives, Historical people, Historical sites

How glass plate technology met high Tech

By Mark R. Moore
 
A fine lady in a hat out for a drive.

His­to­ry in Danville is more than smelly, mildewed books full of dates and records of live birth and dead molder­ing bones. Most peo­ple in the Unit­ed States live in sleek, shiny, mod­ern con­nect­ed metrop­o­lis­es where the pejo­ra­tive phrase “What have you done for me late­ly?” sym­bol­izes both the imme­di­ate lack of car­ing and super­fi­cial con­nec­tions as opposed to what we have here in Danville. It’s what I would call “wear­able his­to­ry” here. Your best friend might be relat­ed to the street you live on (was be a Brain­erd, it might be Green­bank Hol­low, the res­i­dence you live in might have been known for a hun­dred years as Dr. Smith’s House or, pos­si­bly, the Pet­tengill farm. The hill you can see might be Roy Moun­tain and you find there’s an eigh­teen year old Roy on Face­book. Strangest of all, that per­son, by and large, can, if asked, quick­ly trace their lin­eage direct­ly back to why that house, hill or road was named for a per­son in their fam­i­ly, not because the fact was drilled into them at school, but because they have a ret­i­cent North­east King­dom nob­less oblige (broad­ly defined-defer­ring to a per­son because of their family’s past his­to­ry past)and sim­ply grew up with a sto­ry in their past and is left for you, the present, to dis­cov­er how the past appel­la­tion became attached to the house or hol­low. Recent­ly, I was pre­sent­ed with a group of dif­fer­ent sized, dark, appar­ent­ly smoky glass pho­to­graph­ic neg­a­tives that had been in encased a shoe­box in a cel­lar for near­ly hun­dred years before they saw the light of day and asked to dis­cov­er what rela­tion, if any they have to Danville.

The box of glass neg­a­tives was brought to me by His­tor­i­cal Har­ri­et. Har­ri­et is always going through our store of arti­facts and likes to sur­prise me with her lat­est dis­cov­ery and see what I will do with it. Before want­i­ng to delve into the box and see how His­tor­i­cal Har­ri­et would adapt avail­able mod­ern tech­nol­o­gy to solve to solve the prob­lem of get­ting a pic­ture from an old, dark chem­i­cal­ly coat­ed neg­a­tive I did some research on the his­to­ry of glass plates. Short­ly after Louis Daguerre and William Hen­ry Fox Tal­bot pio­neered the daguerreo­type in 1839 which were print­ed on sil­ver-plat­ed cop­per or brass. Fred­er­ick Scott Archer, an Eng­lish sculp­tor, expand­ed their dis­cov­er­ies the dis­cov­er­ies of Daguerre and Tal­bot and came out with the wet glass plate know as the wet col­lo­di­on neg­a­tive. Because it was coat­ed glass and not paper the wet glass neg­a­tives cre­at­ed a sharp­er, more detailed neg­a­tive and could pro­duce more than one print from a neg­a­tive but this had to be done with­in five minutes.

In Search of House Roots–The Varney House

July 17, 2011Posted inHistorical sites, North Danville

 By Mary Barlow

In 2005 we decid­ed to move to Ver­mont. We start­ed look­ing in our price range in many towns from Ran­dolph to Bar­ton but final­ly set­tled on Danville as a friend­ly, beau­ti­ful place to con­cen­trate our efforts. After look­ing at 40 houses–some new, some old, some ren­o­vat­ed, some not so good–we rec­og­nized that we want­ed a house that was old, with good “bones,”and afford­able for us to renovate/restore and make our own. On Decem­ber 16, 2005, in one of the biggest snows of the win­ter, we bought our house in North Danville vil­lage and began the process of fix­ing it up.

Our first vis­i­tor was our neigh­bor from across the road, Ger­ard Lamothe, who wel­comed us and told us about the com­mu­ni­ty orga­ni­za­tions: the Com­mu­ni­ty Club, the School Asso­ci­a­tion and the His­tor­i­cal Soci­ety, all housed in the old North Danville School just up the road. We joined the Com­mu­ni­ty Club and soon heard about the Old House Com­mit­tee. Here we learned the basics of prop­er­ty research.

The approach nor­mal­ly used is to work back­wards from the cur­rent own­er to the one pri­or and so forth. The Danville Town Clerk’s office has a card file that cross ref­er­ences Grantor (sell­er) and Grantee (buy­er) with the book and page num­ber where the deed is filed. The books with all the deeds, quit claims, mort­gages and pro­bate court doc­u­ments from Danville going back to before the char­ter of Danville (which was signed in 1802) are there for your research.

As one fol­lows the own­er­ship back in time, prop­er­ties were divid­ed, joined, and descrip­tions are not eas­i­ly rec­og­nized (using stake and stone mark­ers, trees, and fences, etc ). If prop­er­ty was inher­it­ed and the pro­bate was not filed in Danville, fur­ther research may take you to St Johns­bury or to old Orange Coun­ty records. Fad­ed ink, cen­turies old writ­ing and no longer used words made for time-con­sum­ing read­ing and some­times required the use of a mag­ni­fy­ing glass.

War Becomes a Reality

July 16, 2011Posted inHistorical events

Going to See the Elephant, July 1861

By Paul Chouinard, Pres­i­dent of the Danville His­tor­i­cal Society

Editor’s Note: “Going to see the ele­phant” was an expres­sion used by enlis­tees to the Union Army describ­ing the expe­ri­ence of coun­try boys going off to war where they would expe­ri­ence life in ways they could not have imagined.
 
 
With the Capi­tol at Wash­ing­ton under threat of inva­sion by the Con­fed­er­ate Army, Union sol­diers trans­port the Unit­ed States Gov­ern­men­t’s stan­dard weights and mea­sures to St. Johns­bury for safe­keep­ing. Cap­tion and illus­tra­tion from the book Pio­neers In Indus­try Fair­banks, Morse & Co.
July of 1861 marked a turn­ing point. War became a grim real­i­ty with major bat­tles fought, result­ing in seri­ous injuries and loss of life. Men returned home bear­ing the phys­i­cal and psy­cho­log­i­cal scars of war. Gen­er­al­ly, the real­i­ty of war did not hit home until news of local casu­al­ties arrived. The first Danville casu­al­ty was Charles D. Cook, who was just sev­en­teen years old when he died in the hos­pi­tal at Camp Grif­fin, Vir­ginia, of typhoid fever in Novem­ber of 1861. The opti­mism which had pre­vailed at the out­set of the war, regard­ing the fact that union forces would quick­ly tri­umph, began to fade.

Accord­ing to Susan­nah Clif­ford in Vil­lage In the Hills: “There was at least one fam­i­ly in Danville that had rel­a­tives fight­ing on both sides of the bat­tle lines, but in this par­tic­u­lar case kin­ship proved stronger than patri­o­tism. James Davis, son of Bliss Davis, was the only known Danville sol­dier to see the war from the Con­fed­er­ate side. James went west at age eigh­teen to live with his uncle in Ohio and then moved to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to study med­i­cine. When the war broke out in 1861, he joined the Con­fed­er­ate ser­vice as an assis­tant sur­geon of the Sev­enth Louisiana Reg­i­ment and lat­er became full sur­geon. He served through­out the war and was present at all the major bat­tles in north­ern Vir­ginia. James cousin, Alexan­der, who was with the Union army, was wound­ed at the bat­tle at Savage’s Sta­tion, cap­tured by the Con­fed­er­ate army and sent to Ander­son­ville Prison. While in prison, Alexan­der learned that his cousin was in Rich­mond, and he wrote to James to let him know of his sit­u­a­tion. James imme­di­ate­ly set to get­ting Alexan­der exchanged and even fur­nished him with trans­porta­tion back to his regiment.”

On the home front, local farm­ers and horse breed­ers in Danville helped fur­nish the cav­al­ry with fine hors­es. Danville’s Meri­no Sheep and Greenbank’s woolen mill con­tributed to the war effort, as did most oth­er tex­tile mills in New Eng­land, by pro­vid­ing woolen broad­cloth for the pro­duc­tion of blan­kets and uni­forms. In the autumn of 1861, Greenbank’s mill received fed­er­al con­tracts to man­u­fac­ture woolen broad­cloth for uniforms.

A pair of stir­rups made in Fair­banks fac­to­ry for use by Union cav­al­ry­men in the Civ­il War. Cap­tion and pho­to­graph from Pio­neers in Indus­try Fair­banks, Morse & Co.

Ear­ly in 1861, with the city of Wash­ing­ton in grave dan­ger, the offi­cial stan­dard weights of the Unit­ed States Gov­ern­ment were moved to St. Johns­bury for safe­keep­ing. E. and T. Fair­banks and Co. began the man­u­fac­ture of brass stir­rups and brass trim­mings for the North­ern cav­al­ry, as well as of artillery har­ness irons and curb bits. In addi­tion the offi­cials of the New York branch of E. and T. Fair­banks helped Gov­er­nor Eras­tus Fair­banks secure sup­plies for both infantry and cav­al­ry of the Ver­mont regiments.

THE NORTH STAR, July 13, 1861

THE PRESIDENT’S MESSAGE

It rec­om­mends that Con­gress pro­vide, by legal means, for “mak­ing this con­test a short and deci­sive one;” and the Pres­i­dent asks that body to pass an act to raise 400,000 men, and $400,000,000. to pros­e­cute the work. Should Con­gress grant it, we trust the great pow­er thus con­ferred, will be wise­ly used, in crush­ing rebel­lion, and giv­ing to this mighty con­flict a strict­ly nation­al and Union-restor­ing character.

Optimism Prevails

June 1, 2011Posted inHistorical events, Historical people, Historical sites, NSM articles

Going to See the Elephant, part 3

The Bat­tle of Big Bethel was a fail­ure for Fed­er­al troops. The Ver­mont Civ­il War Hem­locks have raised funds to raise a sev­en foot mon­u­ment made of Barre gran­ite at the bat­tle site.
By Paul Chouinard, Pres­i­dent of the Danville His­tor­i­cal Society

“Going to see the ele­phant” was an expres­sion used by enlis­tees in the Union Army describ­ing the expe­ri­ence of coun­try boys going off to war where they would expe­ri­ence life in ways they could not have imagined.

At the out­set of the Civ­il War the stat­ed objec­tive of the North was to main­tain the Union. The Con­fed­er­ate States iden­ti­fied “states rights” as their major objec­tive which would give them the right to func­tion inde­pen­dent­ly. Main­stream his­to­ri­ans have com­mon­ly agreed that: “Every­thing stemmed from the slav­ery issue,” as stat­ed by Pro­fes­sor James McPher­son, whose book Bat­tle Cry of Free­dom is wide­ly judged to be the author­i­ta­tive one-vol­ume his­to­ry of the Civ­il War.

It was not until Sep­tem­ber 22, 1862, fol­low­ing the bloody Bat­tle of Anti­etam that Lin­coln issued a pre­lim­i­nary Procla­ma­tion of Eman­ci­pa­tion, which declared that all slaves in states or parts of states still fight­ing against the Unit­ed States on Jan­u­ary 1, 1863 would from that time on be for­ev­er eman­ci­pat­ed. On Jan­u­ary 1, 1863, Lin­coln issued his final Eman­ci­pa­tion Procla­ma­tion. How­ev­er, it did not free slaves in states then in the Union, the Bor­der States, nor cer­tain parts of Vir­ginia and Louisiana that were under Union con­trol. The Eman­ci­pa­tion Procla­ma­tion did have the effect of clear­ly iden­ti­fy­ing slav­ery as a vital issue of the war for both cit­i­zens of the Unit­ed States and for its allies.

THE NORTH STAR

JUNE 8, 1861

From Fortress Monroe

Great activ­i­ty is per­ceived at Fortress Mon­roe. Troops and ammu­ni­tion are con­stant­ly arriv­ing, the gar­ri­son now amount­ing to thir­teen thou­sand men, and large bod­ies were mov­ing into the inte­ri­or, it was thought, with the inten­tion of mak­ing for Nor­folk by a cir­cuitous route. Up to Thurs­day evening, slaves were still flock­ing to the fort. It was dis­cov­ered that thir­ty of the slaves belonged to one man in Rich­mond. He obtained per­mis­sion to vis­it the fort to con­fer with Gen­er­al But­ler on the sub­ject of get­ting his live prop­er­ty back. The Gen­er­al said they came there of their own accord, and could go back with him if they desired it. They were asked if they desired to return with their mas­ter. They quick­ly decid­ed that they pre­ferred to remain with the sol­diers in the fort…