From Margaret:
In the Morris Family Papers are fifteen almanacs whose dates range from 1814 to 1852. Their owner Merrit Canby (1787-1866), father of Martha Canby Morris, wrote daily entries on the blank, unlined pages following the almanacs’ weather predications and compendiums of interesting facts such as the organization of the U.S. government and description of Virginia’s Natural Bridge.
The front cover of Merrit Canby's Almanac from 1817.
Each entry began with a description of the weather: “Morning opened with rain – cleared from the southward in the afternoon…,” “Clear lovely fall day,” “Home quite cold.” The latter entry underscores the intense effect the weather had on individuals, even those not working outside. Merrit Canby himself was not an outdoor laborer but a successful merchant who made his wealth as a sugar refiner with Joseph S. Lovering in Philadelphia. He returned to his hometown of Wilmington, Delaware in 1836.
The short entries contain references to his mercantile interests in that he mentions the arrival of supercargoes. He does refer to world and national events: on 6 June 1814 he relates: “Events of the most astonishing nature have taken place in Europe. Bonaparte has abdicated the throne of France in favor of the Bourbon Louis the 18th ascends the throne under a mild [sic] constitution…” “An Election Prediction” written in the back cover of the 1840 Almanac said that the Whig candidate William Henry Harrison would only carry the New England states. As fans of “Tippecanoe” might remember, Harrison won the election.
Election predictions on the back of Merrit Canby's 1840 almanac.
Although Merrit Canby died in Wilmington and had two other children, Martha, residing in Philadelphia, was evidently the family member who received these almanacs. There are indications in correspondence with the Canby family that the Morris branch was eager – even aggressive – in acquiring family papers. It has been suggested earlier in the blog that Quaker families were exceptional in preserving family documents; Martha’s pursuit of her father’s almanacs suggests that this family was exceptional among the Quaker community.
From Dana:
Almanacs—both the traditional version and the pocket-diary version in which Merritt Canby made his notations—were omnipresent in 19th century America. The following advertisement, placed in The Public Ledger on December 7, 1841, by Philadelphia entrepreneur William D. Rapp, provides a little perspective on their immense popularity:
“20,000 Almanacs for 1842, only one cent each—A first-rate almanac has been published at the RED STORE, no. 256 Race Street, and is sold wholesale and retail. This almanac is fully equal to any that has been offered to the public, and the astonishing low price the subscriber feels confident will induce every family to embrace the opportunity of getting one…”
According to the 1840 United States Census, Philadelphia at this time period was a city of only 93,665 residents. Personal ownership of almanacs must have been extremely common if a single shop hoped to sell 20,000 almanacs—a number equal to more than one-fifth of the entire city population.
The ubiquity of almanacs might suggest that people viewed them as disposable. This, however, was clearly not the case. As exemplified by the Morrises, many families held onto family members’ personal almanacs for generations. In addition, the archives at the Independence National Historical Site also houses a collection of nearly seventy almanacs dating from 1772 to 1827. I had a chance to look at these almanacs, and it was apparent that these small books, with their dog-eared pages and carefully mended bindings, were well-loved by their owners.
Historian Molly McCarthy has studied these almanacs and offers some insight into why they were so popular. In her article “A Pocketful of Days: Pocket Diaries and Daily Record Keeping Among Nineteenth-Century New England Women,” (The New England Quarterly, June 2000) McCarthy writes that, “like the family Bible or a treasured novel, pocket diaries were imbued with sentimental meaning. They were often, for instance, a valued gift from husband to wife,” (292). Once in the hands of their recipients, these personal almanacs became more than simple record-keeping tools. While their terse recordings typically only included facts like weather conditions, daily tasks, visits from friends, and letters received or sent, (like Merritt Canby’s note, “Home quite cold”) they became a standing record of family events and memories.
Almanacs also represented a burgeoning 19th century interest in numbers, statistics, and record-keeping. In an article entitled “Looking at the Sky: The Visual Context of Victorian Meteorology,” (The British Society for the History of Science, 2003) Katherine Anderson argues that this preoccupation with numbers stemmed from the technological innovations taking place during this time period. According to Anderson, “scientific observation was being transformed by new devices, new printing technologies and new aesthetic styles, from landscape painting to lithography, to the camera,” (301). People saw that it was possible to make accurate records in many areas of inquiry and transferred this practice to their daily lives and record keeping.
Historian Patricia Cline Cohen has also studied this fascination with numbers in her book A Calculating People: The Spread of Numeracy in Early America (1999). She writes that Americans became concerned with numeracy “under the twin impact of republican ideology and economic development,” (225). As citizens of a relatively young nation, Americans viewed numbers as the path to their future security—by focusing on numbers they could keep an accurate account of the population, ensuring the Founding Fathers’ ideal of a representative government, and further the growth of America’s industry and economy.
Almanacs, then, supported both the Victorian interest in family life and a growing interest in numbers and record-keeping. These little books give us insight into not only individuals like Merritt Canby, but also to the world in which he lived.
