In which I burrow for 3 days straight.

I apologize for the posting delay! The weather has decided to turn Arctic on us, and apparently my default reaction when this happens is to drink tea, stay in my PJs all day, and watch 7 episodes straight of Friday Night Lights. Someday, I'll learn how people can be productive in this weather. Nevertheless, much to report on my last day of work!

Fridays are quickly becoming my favorite project day, mostly because I get to spend all day with actual documents, rather than digitized versions of them. So, please forgive the length and general excitement of this post -- I tend to get rather giddy at the sight of parchment and a good 19th century cursive script.

My project on Fridays is for my new best friend (the one who seemingly knew Ben Franklin), and it's actually at our neighboring archive, the other main archive in the city. My historian-buddy is a scholar on print culture and publishing, and particularly on Mathew Carey, the most famous American publisher and bookmaker from the 1770s through the 1820s. My task is to go through boxes and boxes of correspondence to Carey, and salvage any broadsides (or anything made with a printing press, rather than handwritten). These will then be scanned into a national database, so future scholars can discover them (read: probably one scholar in the next fifty years, let's be real.)

But, as my scholar-buddy basically told me, "don't worry about the broadsides too much. Read the letters, have some fun; if you find something interesting, just look at that." ....do I need to explain further why he's my new best friend? SO, I spent the first two hours in basic archive heaven, gushing over things like the fact that the wax on the letters was still intact (humor me). But then, I stumbled upon the best thing EVER....what I heretofore will refer to as the Bromance of 1801.

Before I started my project, my historian-buddy told me that many of the letters to Carey would be from one man, his distributor and sales agent Parson Weems. Little did I know that "many" actually meant "boxes and boxes" and distributor actually mean "best friend for LIFE". After spending nearly 4 hours perusing letters with your typical lavishly over-the-top and formal language of 1801, I was beyond excited when I discovered Parson. At first glance, his letters look more like an AIM conversation (the man used more exclamation points than a teenybopper, during a time when it seems exclamation points were generally shunned by men of standing). But what was particularly amusing was Parson's unrestrained admiration for his boss. I really can't do it justice, so I've decided to quote Parson himself, in what became one of my favorite letters...

"Dear Mathew- Pigs, they say, by sleeping together, contract a fondness for each other. Is it wonderful then that I, of nature more noble and more generous instincts than a Pig; that I, after so long selling your books, so long eating your bread and drinking of your water, should have contracted an affection for you. Yes, M. Carey, I can shame the Devil and say that I have often experienced for you those feelings which so refresh our spirits when the image of a beloved brother rises on our thoughts. Believe me, M. Carey, it would afford me great pleasure to be assured that you write in the style of your last to nobody but myself." - Parson Weems, Dec 28th, 1801

...and thus begins The Bromance of 1801. I tend to write letters like this to my friends, so I'm happy to know that I have a kindred spirit in Parson. I have more on the tales of Parson and Mathew filed away, but I'll save that for the next installment of The Bromance of 1801.

Though I feel this could technically function as an AHFOD, I will leave you with one more fun fact: Parson Weems, though I'd like to think he could have been famous as best friend extraordinaire, was actually famous as the originator of the George Washington Cherry Tree ("I cannot tell a lie") story. He wrote a biography called The Life of Washington in which he called George "the greatest man who ever lived" and was generally over-the-top. So, perhaps Parson just wanted to be everyone's best friend. He's quickly becoming my favorite unfortunately-forgotten historical figure.

For now, I'm off to continue thesis-ing, and then find a heating blanket that can safely function as a face mask. More on that later.