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#the past is another country – @shelomit on Tumblr
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only a Puritan or a musicologist

@shelomit / shelomit.tumblr.com

Your trusted source for neat ninety-two-proof grad school stress. Guaranteed to taste worse than rum.
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Also just read the injunction "the cullering of the body of our meeting house shall be like Pomfret, and the Roff shall be cullered Read," confusedly Google Imaged pomfrets, and found them, as I had recollected them, to be a two-toned fish to neither of whose tones I could hope to give an identifiable name. Then I finally remembered that there's such a place as Pomfret, Connecticut. O for a historical preservation society bold enough to paint an eighteenth-century meetinghouse red again! Or pumpkin, which I see in records quite a bit.

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@tzintzuntzan2 said: What does cullered mean here? I assume you work with 17th century texts

"Colored," as in "painted." I'm actually a nineteenth-centuryist, but this particular quotation was from church minutes from the 1760s.

#good company and good conversation#evangelical and experimental#lost in the stacks#singin' the all but dead blues#the past is another country
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It's been a scandalous couple of weeks over in the hymnology mines! After two bigamists and a murder-suicide, learning that Rev. Thomas J. Shelton (1849-1929) had shipped his second wife off to Detroit to give birth before she technically got around to being his second wife seemed like small potatoes. Nonetheless, I salute this census-taker's commitment to preserving the goss. @elucubrare, comment?

#the original Mrs. Rev. Shelton divorced his ass in 1900 ( ;#lost in the stacks#the past is another country#evangelical and experimental#working the stacks#much depends on variety of taste
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'Whereas, our brother David Pond, as several of our brethren [. . .] struck into a pitch of the tune on Feb. 18 [1739], in public worship on the forenoon raised above what was set, after most of the Congregation as is thought, kept the pitch for three lines and after our Pastor had desired them that raised it to fall to the pitch that was set to be suitable, decent, or to that purpose: The question was put, whether the church apprehends this our brother David Pond's so doing to be disorderly, and it passed in the affirmative and David Pond is suspended until satisfaction is given.' Pond afterwards applied to the Church of Christ, in Medway, for admission. Letters, which well illustrate the characteristics of the times, were exchanged by the two churches in regard to the case of Mr. Pond. It was suggested that because of his uncommon height and muscular strength he pitched the tune too high. Whether this, or because of his willfulness, others must determine; at any rate he was excommunicated from the church.

E. O. Jameson, The History of Medway, Mass., 1713 to 1885 [Medway, Mass.]: published by the Town, 1886), 107.

#'unfortunately I cannot sing on pitch due to being too righteously yolked' ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#the past is another country#evangelical and experimental#singin' the all but dead blues
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O Love is like a damask rose, A canker in its breast, And every silken leaf that glows But hides the spoiler guest. O Love is like a frozen brook, All glittering to the eye, Beneath whose bright alluring [look] Th'ingulfing waters lie. O Love is like the ocean stream, False quicksands for its bed; O Love is like the lightning's gleam, Which shines, but strikes us dead. O Love is like the christal glass Where forms reflected play; We think to catch them as they pass; They, melting, fly away.

"O Love is Like a Damask Rose: Arranged for the Guitar" (Washington, D.C.: S. Carusi, 1837).

#I say 'spoiler guest' all the time and just assume people know what I'm referring to#when maybe about three other people this century have read this song.#the past is another country#lost in the stacks
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After the utterance of many earnest but futile prayers against dancing, card-playing, church fairs, and kindred entertainments in which his congregation had engaged in order to attract crowds to the church, the Rev. Barton W. Perry, has resigned his pastorate of the Grace Presbyterian Church on Lyell avenue, [Rochester, N.Y.]. Mr. Perry said that the question of entertainments was the only one that had ever come between him and his flock. "The dog shows," said he, "which it has been the custom to hold every week or so in my church, worked in direct opposition to the highest aims of Christianity. I could not labor harmoniously in such surroundings, and I shall accept a charge either in Caledonia or the church in Kansas City."

Our Church Paper (New Market, Va.), 22 Feb. 1893.

#the past is another country#evangelical and experimental#working the stacks
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TERRIBLE(!)?--The Methodist Parsonage of this city was entered on Friday night last, in the absence of the good parson and his wife, by a whole company of people, about 50 strong, who, without fear of law, judge or jury, took possession thereof and quietly waited the return of the occupants. As soon as they appeared, Mr. Abbott, the pastor, was seized by the outer guard and hurried before the assembled company, who demanded of him what he had to say. Modest young man, what could he say? His tongue refused to utter what his heart felt. The company were of his own flock and were only showing their love for him. Suffice to say, his larder has been heavily re-inforced, and other testimonials of love and goodwill shown.

Brunswick Advertiser (Brunswick, Ga.) for April 25, 1877.

#lost in the stacks#rumors of my death &c &c#evangelical and experimental#the past is another country
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Come let me Love: or is my Mind Harden'd to Stone, or froze to Ice? I see the Blessed Fair One bend And stoop t'embrace me from the Skies! O 'tis a Thought would melt a Rock, And make an Heart of Iron move, That those sweet Lips, that Heavenly Look Should seek my Kisses and my Love. I was a Traytor doom'd to Fire, Bound to sustain Immortal Pains; He flew on Wings of strong Desire Assum'd my Guilt, and took my Chains. Did Pity ever stoop so low Drest in Divinity and Blood? Was ever Rebel courted so In Groans of an Expiring God? Again He lives; and spreads his Hands, Hands that were nayl'd to tort'ring Smart; "By these dear Wounds," says He, and stands And prays to clasp me to his Heart. Sure I must love: or are my Ears Still deaf, nor will my Passions move? Lord! melt this stubborn heart to Tears; This heart shall yield to Death or Love.

"Christ's Amazing Love and My Amazing Coldness" in Isaac Watts, Horae Lyricae (London: S. and D. Bridge for John Lawrence, 1706), 1:80-81.

#assuming this has dropped out of use due to Cowardice#(not that it was written as a hymn per se)#(but it was solidly in the repertoire through the mid-19thc.)#much depends on variety of taste#the past is another country
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Isaac Watts Merrill (1803-1879) holding a hymnal of Isaac Watts (1674-1748), painted by Samuel Jordan, Haverhill, MA, 1831. This image has been sitting in my downloads folder labeled "Wattception" for months and it took me an embarrassing amount of time to reconstruct why.

#in my defense the spine is apparently labeled 'Wats'#but you can't see that at this resolution#and the spelling makes me wonder why Jordan wasn't caught MORE often#in his parallel career as a counterfeiter#evangelical and experimental#much depends on variety of taste#the past is another country
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In any field, the writings of ordinary people alter descriptions of the past. In the nineteenth century, as today, Mormon theology celebrated the eternity of the marriage covenant and the sacred meaning of families. But Mormon ideas about marriage and families have changed remarkably over time. If plural wives stood up for their Church in the 1870s, it was not because pioneering had made them strong, but because the concept of gathering that was at the heart of Mormon theology taught them that retreating into a private haven was neither possible nor righteous. They wanted to change the world and they believed God had shown them a way to do it. In that, they were much like other Americans who had their boots in prairie mud and their heads in the stars. They remind us that common men and women, like the prophets they revered, dreamed dreams and saw visions. Mormon diarists loved God and their fellow Saints. They also embraced sentimental poetry, phrenology, and the herb lobelia; brass bands, mechanical gadgets, and speaking in tongues. While waiting for the second coming of Jesus, they filed claims to frontier land and laid out street plans. Their newspapers published advertisements for dagguerreotypists and itinerant painters as well as sermons, and on the overland trail as well as in every settlement they established, they struck up the fiddle and danced.

Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, A House Full of Females: Plural Marriage and Women's Rights in Early Mormonism, 1835-1870 (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2017), xxiv.

#that's the shit!!!#massive cultural conceptions in mid-formation and the agentive presence of God while you're actively doing laundry#an 1840s Vibe.#Teh Discipline#lost in the stacks#singin' the all but dead blues#the past is another country#or 'another planit' as Wilford Woodruff has it lol
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