Posted on by Ellen Roussel

Grace Denio Litchfield: Full of Surprises

Taken from The Chautauquan (Bailey, M. (1898). The Chautauquan. 27 (Public domain ed.). M. Bailey, Publisher.)

Grace Denio Litchfield, poet and novelist, was born November 19, 1849 in Brooklyn , New York. She is the daughter of Grace Hill Litchfield and Edwin Litchfield, and the sister of Francese Hubbard Litchfield Turnbull, the first president of the Woman’s Literary Club. Litchfield began writing at an early age, as she was bedridden due to illness for much of her life. Many of her poems, such as “In My Window-Seat”, “Pain”, “Day-dreams”, “In the Hospital” are reflective of the pain she experienced due to illness, as well as the time she spent in recovery within the confines of her room. She spent much of her time in Europe before moving to Washington D.C.

Litchfield is one of the more prolific writers in the Woman’s Literary Club, and as such, she was named an Honorary Member of the Club. Though some of her publications were at first rejected, following her first publication in 1882, Litchfield was published many times in Harper’s Magazine, The Century, The Atlantic, and others magazines.

I am very intrigued by Grace Denio Litchfield for several reasons. First of all, she is the sister of my least favorite person in the Club, Francese Turnbull. I spent much of last summer transcribing the minutes from the first few years of the Club, and thus know Mrs. Turnbull very well. From my research, my transcriptions, and my own imagination, Mrs. Turnbull seems like an evil dictator who shuts down some of the more progressive women of the Club. So it was surprising when I read about the kindness, modesty, and optimism that characterized Grace Denio Litchfield. How could these two drastically different women be bred from the same family? To this question I have no answer.

Another reason I find Litchfield interesting is because of her fiction writing. While her poetry focuses heavily on themes of nature, all I can really say about it is that it’s nice. Her fiction, however, has a lot more depth I think than her poems. For one, her fiction is funny. I was taken aback when I found myself laughing out loud to some of her sentences. For instance, in Only an Incident, Litchfield writes,

“It was another article of the Joppian creed that there was no such thing possible as a purely Platonic friendship between a young man and a young woman; there must always be ‘something in it’: either a mitten for him, a disappointment for her, or wedding-cake for all–generally and preferably, of course, the wedding-cake;–and belonging to such friendship as lawfully as a tail belongs to a comet, was a great, wide-spreading area of gossip.”

See, funny right? Even Grace Denio Litchfield had her fair share of disappointing boys. Her works focus heavily on women, especially societal expectations of women marrying, women working, and women writing. I am pretty interested to discover what other gems Grace Denio Litchfield has to offer.    

Posted on by Ellen Roussel

Literacy and power

In preparation for the Reading Women, Writing Women English class that will continue this summer’s research on the Woman’s Literary Club of Baltimore, I read the first chapter of Gere’s Intimate Practices book entitled “Literacy and Intimacy.” The chapter begins with quotes from different woman’s clubs’ minutes then goes into the history behind literacy in the United States. Apparently, in the 1880s, the United States began restricting immigration access to the country, and used literacy as a test to determine whether or not an individual was fit to enter the US. If the individual passed the literacy test, they may be permitted entrance. Gere continues to explain that women used literacy to create what is called an “imagined community” because it is a community that is not determined by the physical location of the women but constitutes a type of intellectual community.

The role that literacy played in this point in history is two-fold. On one hand, it was used to exclude a certain group of people who were deemed unfit due to their lack of US-approved literacy. On the other hand, literacy was a standard that brought a lot of women together in a time when women are still considered inferior to men. These women were not yet even allowed to vote, yet they formed these communities of like-minded individuals to read, write, and share their thoughts and works with one another. Like with many aspects of the Woman’s Literacy Club, this association between literacy and power gives me pause. In many cases, the question of literacy was used to strip power from people who could be considered disadvantaged. However, literacy gave power to many women and allowed them to find their voices in a time that did not necessarily always want to listen to what women had to say. This is something I look forward to exploring further this semester as we once again take to the archives to uncover the history of the Woman’s Literacy Club of Baltimore.

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Documenting the only voting these women were allowed to take part in because they lived, and we continue to live, in a patriarchal society

Throughout the first three seasons, the Woman’s Literary Club has gone from a small gathering of women to a quite larger, established organization. It is easy to forget (as I am often guilty of) that this club of women is one of the first of its kind. During this period of history, there were not many clubs of only female participants, and certainly not many partaking in intellectual and cultural discussions. As the researcher who has taken over the first three seasons of the Club, I have had a very clear window into all that has taken place to establish the Club as an actual organization of women. At times, it has been tedious to transcribe all the voting the women have taken part in throughout the Club’s run, from voting on various Articles while establishing their Constitution, to voting on the membership of proposed women, it seems that nothing can take place within the Club without a vote.

Despite the tedious work that this sometimes presents, it is so so important to realize how monumental the act of voting is for these women. The Club is formed in 1890, nearly thirty years before women are allowed the right to vote in the United States. The Woman’s Literary Club is, for all members throughout the 1890-1920 lifetime of the Club, the only medium through which these women can assert their voices and opinions through voting. It is impossible not to wonder whether women being afforded more liberties within the United States has something to do with the disintegration of the Club.

It was not until I reached the third season of the Club that I noticed any serious dissent between the women in regards to voting. On October 11, 1892, at the 60th general meeting of the WLC, the women met to discuss and vote upon whether or not the Club should elect a Corresponding Secretary to the Board. To set the context, this is after Eliza Ridgely, the previous Secretary, stepped down from her position. Lydia Crane has taken over the role of Recording Secretary, but has refused to take responsibility for the correspondence part of the Secretary’s duties. Therefore, the topic has been broached to elect a Corresponding Secretary to act as a counterpart to Lydia Crane’s position of Recording Secretary. Eliza Ridgely has stressed on numerous occasions how necessary it is to have a Corresponding Secretary, which makes me think that Eliza stepped down from her role because it simply became too much work for one person to handle.

Several women proposed that a Corresponding Secretary be appointed by the President and act as the President’s assistant. However, Miss Edith Duer “made some very decided objections to the motion” which, in WLC speak, basically means shit went down. Edith Duer’s main objection was to the point about the Corresponding Secretary being appointed by the President–this comes after the President was declared to have power likened to a governor. Several women spoke in support of Edith, including my girl Eliza Ridgely, who said the Corresponding Secretary should be voted in just like everyone else (you go girl!). The vote was taken orally, was not super conclusive, so they took a standing vote–14 for, 14 against.

The women were then reminded that the President of the United States got to choose his own Cabinet, and the President piped up that it would be super helpful to the wellbeing of the future club if she could pick her assistant, because why wouldn’t she want more power?

Votes were then taken to amend the Articles on Officer Duties to split the duties of the Recording and Corresponding Secretaries, to allow the President to nominate several people for the position to be voted upon by the Club, and then to allow the President to nominate people for the position for the Club to vote upon by ballot. None of these votes ended in the two-thirds majority to be passed. The meeting took so long, it seems, that several women “left the room” and the President motioned to move this discussion to a different day. It took several meetings and many votes before it was eventually decided that the President could make nominations, but that the position would be filled by Club votes.

This is the first instance I have seen in which dissent amongst Club members has been documented. This vote, which really comes down to how much power the President should be afforded, is really a pivotal moment in the history of the Club. This is the moment where several women–Edith Duer, Eliza Ridgely, and others–spoke up to ensure that things were done fairly. Unfortunately, women with the mindsets of Edith and Eliza still had to wait nearly thirty years before their opinions mattered in actual votes.

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Arguing for Creative Ability in Women by Ignoring the Topic

Since the beginning of the Aperio research project, I have been steadily plugging away at the first recorded seasons of the Woman’s Literary Club– 1890-1891, 1891-1892, and now, the 1892-1893 season. Even though I am in the thick of the third season, I’d like to take this time to rewind a few paces and talk about something I came across during the second season of the Club. This is a topic I came across that, initially, I found very troubling. However, the more I have looked into this, the more disturbing I have come to find this topic, both in regards to the Club, as well as to this time period–and history–as a whole.

Let me preface this by saying I cannot do justice to this topic of study; there is far too much to say, and far too little a space to say it. At this time, I do not feel equipped enough to make any kind of philosophical, historical, or, frankly, academic, statement about this. However, what I can speak to is why this particular topic caught my eye and got my wheels turning.

Without further ado, let me explain how the Woman’s Literary Club, for the umpteenth time, has left me greatly distressed.

The 42nd meeting of the Club, on January 5, 1892, began like any other. The ladies met in their usual place, 12 East Centre Street, reviewed the Secretary’s minutes from several meetings prior, and discussed membership in the Club–a very common topic of conversation it seems.

Following this discussion, Lydia Crane read an article from “The Critic” by Molly Elliot Seawell called “The Absence of the Creative Faculty in Woman.” In it, Seawell makes the claim that “woman–not excepting Sappho, George Eliot and Austen–has created nothing that will live in music, art, literature, or even in mechanical invention, and is made up of emotions; while man possesses intellect.”

Following this article, Miss Szold read a response to it, also published in “The Critic”, and the President facilitated choosing women to lead a debate on the question: does the creative faculty exist in woman?

After some digging, I was able to find the article “The Absence of the Creative Faculty in Woman” which made the argument, without substantial evidence it seems, that woman cannot be genius because no woman has made anything eternal, and even when woman is praised, it is only praise because it is coming from man.

The article is not brought up again until the 14th Salon on January 26th. At this meeting, of the two women who were supposed to engage the Club in a discussion of whether or not women have creative ability, one of the women was absent. Therefore, the Club only listened to the views of the woman arguing for creative ability in women. To do this, Mrs. Sioussat read an article from “The Critic” in support of woman having creative ability. I have issue with this because it seems a little counter-intuitive to me to argue for the creative ability of women by reading an article written by someone else on the topic. It just seems, for a women’s literary club, these women should be more concerned with giving validity to this topic. Their work is being called into question and being denied a reputable place in history by another woman. Instead of discussing this, it seems like the women almost do everything in their power to not talk about it. In fact, after the reading by Mrs. Sioussat, the President immediately switched into “Sidney Lanier groupie” mode, which seems to be her default at nearly every meeting. It doesn’t sit well with me that these women can allow themselves to be belittled, not talk about it, and then immediately jump into the hundredth discussion of a white man and his poetry. It says a lot to me that the Woman’s Literary Club didn’t do justice to this issue.

I have struggled to make my peace with various aspects of the Woman’s Literary Club in the past, but this is one under-step by the Club that I am having a very hard time looking past.

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Ode to Eliza Ridgely

Today, I finished transcribing the last of the minutes recorded by Eliza Ridgely as Secretary; what a bittersweet moment in time this was for me.

Despite my original chagrin with Ridgely’s style of note-taking, I now feel as though I have learned and grown with Eliza for two seasons of the Woman’s Literary Club’s existence, and truly am sad to see her go.

Eliza’s work was characterized by a surprising lack of detail for most of the meetings’ happenings. With her, there was only a vague allusion to what events might have transpired during the actual meetings. Nonetheless, it is Eliza Ridgely who has painted the only picture of the Woman’s Literary Club that I have ever known.

At the end of the second season, Ridgely’s position was taken over by Lydia Crane, who was much less willing to do the amount of work that Eliza put into her position as Secretary. According to Crane, her stipulation for accepting the nomination as Secretary was that she would only be the Recording Secretary during the meetings, and not Corresponding and Recording Secretary as Eliza had been. This leads me to conclude that Eliza Ridgely went above and beyond for the Club. Way to go, girl.

What is mysterious to me, is why Eliza Ridgely refused to accept her nomination as Secretary in the third year of the Club’s existence. During the second season, Eliza began missing more and more meetings, with Lydia Crane filling in for her, for undisclosed reasons. I can only speculate as to why Eliza would have missed so many meetings and why she did not feel it within her ability to remain Secretary, while preferring to be a member of the Executive Board.

All I can say is that, Eliza, it was a pleasure getting to know you through your words and your writing and your descriptions (or lackthereof) over the past two seasons.

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A Bit About Loyola

The fifty-fifth meeting of the Woman’s Literary Club, held on May 3, 1892, was of particular interest to me because of one piece of information that seemed to be thrown in, never to be touched upon again. Namely, the Woman’s Literary Club was invited to a Loyola College debate at Lehmann’s Hall.

A few weeks ago, I wrote a blog about the vibrant life of Lehmann’s Hall, yet I found no mention in my research of any Loyola affiliation with this destination. It came as a surprise to me that my university, and the Club on which I am doing research, both met at this destination that I have previously written about.

I am disappointed to say that the minutes of the Woman’s Literary Club never again mentioned Loyola or this debate (at least not that I have come to find). However, I decided to do a little digging to see what I could further uncover about this Loyola/Woman’s Literary Club connection.

According to the archived text of “Historical Sketch of Loyola College, Baltimore, 1852-1902”, Loyola held their annual debate at Lehmann’s Hall on the topic of: “Resolved, That the Golden Age of English Literature is Our Own Century” on May 5, 1892, two days after the WLC announced their invitation to be present. While I could not find a transcribed text of this particular debate, I did find that Charles C. Homer won the coveted Jenkins Medal at the end of the debate. This, of course, sparked more questions as to whom Charles C. Homer was and what the Jenkins Medal was.

What I could dig up about Charles C. Homer, Jr. was that he is of German descendant, and was born and raised in Baltimore. He and his brother attended Loyola College, received a Bachelor of Arts degree, and was an involved alumnus. The Loyola Annual is quoted as saying,

“At the recent meeting of the executive council of the Alumni Association Mr. Homer was retired as president of the body. Mr. Homer said a few weeks ago that he was interested in Loyola and everything that appertains to her.”

Charles Homer and his brother both attended Maryland University Law School, and went on to practice in Baltimore until Charles C. Homer left to become Second Vice-President at the Second National Bank of Baltimore.

What I could find on the Jenkins Medal was that it is of high prestige, and is awarded to renowned alumni after the Annual Debate.

I feel as though I have only scratched the surface of the connection between Loyola, the Woman’s Literary Club, and Lehmann’s Hall, and I think further sleuthing is in order to fully uncover the intricate web that has been weaved between these three institutions.

Posted on by Ellen Roussel

Lehmann’s Hall–What are you?

Taken from http://www.mdhs.org/digitalimage/street-scene-lehmanns-hall-café-des-arts-852-north-howard-street-baltimore From the Julius Anderson Photograph Collection

In the early years ofthe Woman’s Literary Club, they met at 861 Garden Street. Some time later, they began meeting at Lehmann’s Hall, which is addressed as 858 N. Howard Street, but, as Dr. Cole told me, used to be at 861 Garden Street. My assignment for this week was to research the history behind Lehmann’s Hall, and how the women came to meet there.

After some research, I came to the conclusion that any discoveries I made would not come about easily. In fact, there was remarkablylittle information on Lehmann’s Hall, and virtually nothing about 861 Garden Street. I assumed the address change of Lehmann’s Hall from 861 Garden Street to 858 N. Howard Street occurred after the Great Baltimore Fire in 1904 that left a huge portion of the city decimated.

I cannot paint a complete picture of Lehmann’s Hall, nor can I answer the questions of why the women started meeting there and why they eventually stopped. However, through my research, I found some interesting tidbits about Lehmann’s Hall, which, today, is right behind the popular coffee joint, the Bun Shop.

The earliest record I could find of Lehmann’s Hall is from the Maryland Historical Society, which credits various musical performances, concerts, Glee Clubs, and plays as being performed at Lehmann’s Hall between 1875 and 1914.

Lehmann’s Hall was also mentioned in an 1890 edition of Locomotive Firemen’s Magazine, which described the “Orioles” Subordinate Lodge as meeting at Lehman’s Hall [sic] on 861 Garden Street on the second and fourth Sundays of the month.

In the 1898 Volume XXVIII of The National Druggist, the forty-sixth annual meeting of the American Pharmaceutical Association met at Lehmann’s Hall, though the address was written as 856 N. Howard Street, which would debunk my hypothesis about the fire sparking the change of street names.

In the August 22, 1907 edition of the “Daily Bulletin of theManufacturers’ Record”, the single mention of Lehmann’s Hall is to highlight the remodeling and addition to the building by the Ellicott and Emmart architects.

By 1935, right before World War II, Lehmann’s Hall was a popular destination for Nazi sympathizer rallies, as well as the local bowling alley and dance hall. In a photograph in the Maryland Historical Society archives, Lehmann’s Hall has a sign out front describing it as a “Café Des Artes,” and it is addressed as 852 N. Howard Street.

I cannot fully uncloud the mystery behind Lehmann’s Hall, nor can I provide conclusive, definitive answers as to how the Woman’s Literary Club came to find itself there. However, it does seem that, despite road changes and address inconsistencies, Lehmann’s Hall remained a gathering spaced for quite a number of years, and even lends itself to a popular gathering space today. It was the primary meeting space of the Woman’s Literary Club during their genesis and early years, and I wait with anticipation to see where/when/and how Lehmann’s Hall falls off the radar of the Woman’s Literary Club, should that information come about through further transcription of club minutes.