Striking While the Iron’s Hot: The Trans-Atlantic ‘Adventures’ of Charles (Moses) Porter-Phelps

Phelps Farm, built in 1815, served as Charles (Moses) Porter-Phelps' (1772- 1857) escape from the hustle and bustle of Boston. He, the first son of Elizabeth and Charles Phelps, spent his youth in Hadley at Forty-Acres, before attending Harvard University as a young man. After graduation, he moved to Boston where he would try his hand at law, meet his to-be wife Sarah, and delve into a series of business deals that would largely work out in his favor. The wealth he amassed during his time in Boston paid for the construction of Phelps farm in the later years of his life. The large homestead, built right across from the Porter-Phelps-Huntington Museum, would serve as a home for several generations of the Phelps family, forever tying future family members with the sort-of work Phelps conducted.

Phelps’ first career in law ended when he closed his office in Boston in the summer of 1799, citing that the expenses to live in Boston far outweighed his salary, returning to Hadley to live with his family; during this summer he helped oversee some alterations to the home.(1) In 1800, he married his first wife Sarah Davenport, and decided to live in Boston once again. In the city, he would shift his career for the first of many times over his life. A business partnership with Edward Rand anchored his growing family in the city where Phelps experimented with merchant business from a wholesale on the No. 3 Cadman’s Wharf. Unfortunately, this would be a short-lived endeavor— in that same year, Rand died in a duel, permanently ending the arrangement. Soon after, Phelps strikes up a connection with William Belcher, a tradesman out of Savannah, Georgia, and for several years, the family’s income came from the ‘runs’ he and his partner did between ports in Boston and Georgia. Together, the men made their fortune in commodities cultivated by enslaved African Americans in the American South— goods like cotton, rice, and tobacco— selling such products to Northern American and European markets. During this time, Phelps occupied a store on the India Wharf in Boston, the city's headquarters of trade with international and domestic markets. Though a short-lived and tenuous peace had been met on the European continent, putting a brief pause on the Napoleonic Wars which ravaged the continent,  Phelps and Belcher mutually dissolved their partnership— at least that is what Phelps attests to in his diary.(2) Although a number of factors likely contributed to this decision, it is possible that highly protective trade acts like the Embargo Act of 1807, which fully banned all American exportation to the European continent, contributed to the mutual end of affairs. (3) 

Still, Phelps decided to send the rest of his stock of Havana Sugar, nearly $200,000 of goods in today’s currency (2024), to Rotterdam on the off-chance he may turn some profit in European markets in the summer of 1807.  He’s only notified of the whereabouts of his shipment after he travels back to Hadley to be with his dying father— Charles Phelps Jr.. Phelps writes that by a ‘miracle of God,’ his shipment did in fact reach Rotterdam.(4) His business partner in Rotterdam, Mr. Cremer chose to hold on to the goods until the price inflated, and as a result, Phelps’ shipment sold for over $26,000—a little over half a million USD when adjusted for inflation— after deducting the price of freight. Cremers' decision to hold onto the goods further explains why Phelps cited confusion on the shipment's whereabouts and his surprise when he learned that the ship made it to the continent. He notes in his autobiography that this is a godsend to his business, and with some embargoes lifted by 1809, he returns to Boston with his family and begins to dip his hand into international trade once again. With this large sum of money, the family continued to live as an incredibly wealthy family, skirting the financial crisis many families went through. Most overseas businesses ceased in 1812 and goods produced within the United States became increasingly more expensive; while many families struggled during this time to afford necessities, the Phelps had a mass of wealth that would sustain them for several years, regardless of Phelps’ labor status. 

         In the spring of 1812, America entered what Phelps calls a ‘useless’ war with Great Britain, the War of 1812, (5) during which all Trans-Atlantic commerce was suspended. (6) A letter sent to Phelps in 1812 discusses the complex geopolitical conflicts that drastically impacted trade. The writer warns Phelps of the various treaties that would alter the viability of trade with nations like Russia, France, and Britain.(7) According to Phelps, any trade that was occurring during this time had an air of militarism, as ships were under constant threat from the British Navy. Over the next few years, businesses like the Phelps’ would be pushed to seek out new markets internationally as the regular channels of commerce closed. His business would become chiefly connected to webs of trade in northern Europe, though specifically to the iron business in Gothenburg, Sweden.

One side of a draft letter to Charles (Moses) Porter Phelps which outlines various political conflicts in Europe that hindered the viability of trans-Atlantic trade, written from Hamburg on March 3, 1812. The writer (unintelligible) describes the benefits and drawbacks of trade with Sweden, particularly that though Sweden is still open to trading, the trade market is limited. By the end of the letter, the writer hopes that the ‘embarrassment to Commerce” will cease by the Summer— that market conditions will improve.

“My own business was now chiefly connected with the trade of northern Sweden, some of my shipment of that kind having been quite successful— and during the two coming years my business was almost wholly in that line. Indeed, during the war I kept quite a respectable wholesale and retail Iron Store on the Long Wharf.” [Phelps, 48]

Above is a deed of shipment, signed by Nicholas Myers, outlining a shipment of goods from Gothenburg Sweden, on May 9, 1812, to Charles (Moses) Porter Phelps in Boston. According to the deed, 2,284 bars of Swedish Iron and 102 bundles of Swedish Iron (weighing 40 tons) were shipped by John Cunnigham upon a ship called the Indian Chief to Phelps in Boston. The deed requests that Phelps pay $560 and 6 cents as a delivery fee, about 13,242.59 in today’s currency (2024).

 A receipt of shipment dated May 8th, 1812 attests to this transition in trade, as some 2,285 bars of Swedish iron were transported from Gothenburg to Boston and delivered to Phelps.(8) A wholesale that he’d purchased on the Long Wharf in Boston was the headquarters of his business— a business, which, like the many other iron traders, took advantage of the market for iron available in accessible ports in Sweden. Such trade would become instrumental in the progression of industrialization into and through the mid-1800s. 

By 1815, the U.S. was quickly returning to its once peaceful relationship with the European countries, as the Treaty of Ghent was agreed upon and signed in December 1814, officially closing the conflict on all fronts. The shift in geo-political relations once again resulted in a shift in economic relations, straining the viability of the Swedish iron trade with America. International trade was returning to a state of normalcy as blockades fell and markets were reopened. In Boston specifically, the prices of imported goods began to fall.(9) As a result, Phelps chooses again to shift his career, leaving the mercantile business for good and entering banking, moving into a position as a cashier for the Bank of Massachusetts.(10) 

 “At this period the commerce of Europe and America was fast resuming its usual peaceful relations. Men bred to this business and well established in it, might indulge reasonable hopes of success— but the untrained- desultory shipper must now expect as a matter of course to pocket more losses than gains— and the truth of this was fully verified in the business in which I allowed myself to engage, small as it was, for the two succeeding years, such being the aspect of things, I was induced to the close of the year to accept the office of Cashier of the Massachusetts Bank…” [Phelps, 61]

Banking at any level was a privilege of the time, something reserved for only the upper echelons of society, and was a career well suited to his class and status. He remained in Boston for a few more years before moving back to Hadley and building Phelps Farm. 

The choices Phelps made during this unsteady time in American history allowed his family to escape the financial burdens that befell the general population of early Americans. From trading in Southern American goods to trading Swedish iron, he relied on his business to consistently sustain his family’s high-class lifestyle during some of the most tumultuous financial times of the early 19th century, building a generational fortune for the Phelps family and a large farmhouse to go with it. Still, his initial ‘runs’ of cotton, tobacco, and sugar up the eastern seaboard would implicate the family’s wealth in the continued enslavement of African Americans in the southern portions of the United States and the Caribbean— prolonging systems of enslavement throughout the country even after slavery ends in Massachusetts.(11) And, his later decision to import iron to the United States made him one of many merchants of iron who played an essential role in furthering the industrialization of the U.S. through the early 1800s— a process that would have harrowing implications for labor relations and the health of the climate into the early 20th century and today. Therefore the decisions Charles (Moses) Porter Phelps made during his life chiefly connected the family to a web of commerce which, while sustaining his family’s status, would be influential in determining the lives of generations of Americans to come. 

End Notes

(1) Phelps, 20

(2) Phelps, 32-33 

(3) The Embargo Act of 1807 came as a response to French and English naval policies which dictated that all vessels found trading with England and France respectively were to be seized. 

(4) Phelps, 37

(5) The American War of 1812 being an expansion of the ongoing Napoleonic Wars (1793-1819) in mainland Europe. Trade warfare resulted from this expansive war, with trade blockages often halting imports/ exports out of entire countries for extended periods. Piracy was commonplace and ships, and the cargo they held, were frequently confiscated.

(6) Phelps, 47 

(7) The signature on the letter is unintelligible

(8) Shipping Receipt, Porter-Phelps-Huntington Family Papers (MS 1148). Special Collections and University Archives, University of Massachusetts Amherst Libraries.

(9) Adamson, 71

(10) Phelps, 61

(11) Slavery legally ends in Massachusetts between 1782-1783.

Sources

Adamson, Rolf. “Swedish Iron Exports to the United States, 1783–1860.” Scandinavian Economic History Review 17, no. 1 (January 1969): 58–114 

Phelps, Charles (Moses) Porter. Autobiography (1857) Porter-Phelps-Huntington Family Papers Box 10 Folder 21 Amherst College Archives and Special Collections

Shipping Receipt, Porter-Phelps-Huntington Family Papers (MS 1148). Special Collections and University Archives, University of Massachusetts Amherst Libraries.

Letter Addressed to Charles (Moses) Porter Phelps, Porter-Phelps-Huntington Family Papers (MS 1148). Special Collections and University Archives, University of Massachusetts Amherst Libraries.

Fisticuffs for a Good Cause

Found among the correspondence of Gladys Huntington was a brochure from the “Inter-Hospital Boxing Competitions” at The National Sporting Club on the 23rd of March, 1923. The National Sporting Club was the United Kingdom’s oldest boxing club and is credited with the creation of the original eight weight classes: Fly, Bantam, Feather, Light, Welter, Middle, Light Heavy, and Heavy.

After Gladys attended the Inter-Hospital Boxing Competitions, she likely sent the brochure to her mother, Kate Parrish.

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Front of the brochure:

“It may amuse you to see the programme. X means a victory.. Pip won [twice] & only just lost on points. It lasted from 7:30 to 12 & we were riveted with interest to the very end!”

The brochure handed out to spectators listed the competitors for the evening by weight class. Gladys, and undoubtedly other spectators, kept their own tabulations on the winners of each bout: annotated by an “X” next to their name, along with crossing out the names of those who lost.

Content Warning: A quotation below from Gladys’ annotation on the boxers is racially insensitive and considered offensive.

Gladys was moved to remark on the race and ethnicity of two boxers  in the Fly class: “Siamese! Negro!!”

Gladys was moved to remark on the race and ethnicity of two boxers in the Fly class: “Siamese! Negro!!”

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The competition seems to have been a fundraiser for seven local London hospitals listed on the back of the brochure with spaces for spectators to tabulate scores.

According to Arthur Frederick Bettinson, former boxer and founder of the NSC, and author W. Outram Tristram, the sport of boxing in England has a long history. Starting in the seventeenth century, “the Piazza in Covent Garden… was a common meeting-ground for Sportsmen, prize-fighters, gamblers, and that ever-flourishing fraternity who find the delights of gaming fiercely beautiful.” Historically a favorite pastime of English noblemen, famous writers such as Charles Dickens and Arthur Conan Doyle also professed their love of the sport. The National Sporting Club opened on March 5, 1891 in Covent Garden, and included refined spaces such as a Coffee Room, a “fine Billiard Room,” and a grand staircase - all signifiers of the clientele’s socioeconomic status. The boxing ring was referred to as the “theatre,” an appropriate term for the spectacle of boxing.

The National Sporting Club remained open in Covent Garden until 1929, so this seemingly small piece of ephemera offers a fascinating and tangible insight of early twentieth century sporting events in London - seen through the eyes of a wealthy American woman.

Memorial plaque of the National Sporting Club.

Memorial plaque of the National Sporting Club.

Resources

Thumbnail: https://www.sportspages.com/product/national-sporting-club-boxing-tournament-1961-programme

A.F. Bettinson & W. Outram Tristram, The National Sporting Club: Past and Present. Sands & Co., London, 1902.(7, 20) https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=nyp.33433082402078&view=1up&seq=11 


Wallenfeldt, E.C. , Poliakoff, Michael , Hauser, Thomas , Olver, Ron , Sammons, Jeffrey Thomas , Collins, Nigel and Krystal, Arthur. "boxing". Encyclopedia Britannica, 17 Jun. 2021, https://www.britannica.com/sports/boxing

"You would find a bombing a very disagreeable experience" - Correspondence from Early WWII

With COVID-19 and other tumultuous events, those of us living in 2021 are familiar with the feeling of living on the precipice of a momentous time in world history while ordinary life seems to continue on, unaffected. Through selections from correspondence included in the Constant Huntington Papers, generously donated by Katherine Urquhart Ohno in 2019, it is interesting to explore how Constant & Gladys Huntington’s friends and adolescent daughter experienced and discussed the run up to and beginning of World War II. 

Constant, Gladys & Alfreda Huntington at a wedding, June 8, 1939.

Constant, Gladys & Alfreda Huntington at a wedding, June 8, 1939.

The Huntingtons’ primary residence was in London when Britain declared war on Germany on September 3, 1939 after German forces invaded Poland. All of these letters were written in August or September 1939, and can provide insights into the beginning of the war for Britain, as portrayed by ordinary Britons, uninvolved in any decisions surrounding it.

You can click on each letter to read it larger or see a more complete transcript.


On August 3, 1939, Leo Myers, a friend and fellow author, wrote to Gladys expressing his thoughts on the “causes of the approaching war” and commenting on the weather.

It also illustrates for me a particular idea of mine: [viz?], that the world is governed more by pique, rancour, feelings of slight, the "inferiority complex", etc. much more than is realized. The future historian, certainly, will analyze the causes of the approaching war in [?tare/tone?] terms. Collectively, as well as in their representative ruling figures, Italy & Germany are going to war more out of wounded vanity, & rancour(e) rather out of any legitimate sense of injustices to be redressed or even avenged. The wrongs have been committed, the injustices have existed, but they are going to war largely in order to satisfy pettier spites.

[…]

I hope it hasn’t rained all the time, for that does make such a difference when one is living in Hotels. I am feeling so water-logged and heavy. It will be nice to see you again. I am working; & it has become a habit; and I’m not good for anything else now. I do hope this letter (dull as it is!) will reach you in Stockholm all right.

One imagines war as an all-consuming force in life, yet Leo here easily moves from discussing warfare to the weather, and calls his letter dull.


At the beginning of this otherwise ordinary letter about daily life to her father, Constant Huntington, written August 24, 1939, Alfreda Huntington (signing off under her nickname “Jane” - short for her first name, Georgiana) mentions that she “[thinks] there’s going to be a war”—a prescient assessment just 12 days before war was declared.

Dearest Father,

I think there’s going to be a war - so can’t take much interest in the races Everyone is reading about [Farm] in the papers, and no-one seems to notice the massed troops on the Polish Frontier.

I suppose my mother will be back very soon now.

On Wednesday Martyn Beckett is having a dance - which should be fun.

On Friday I go to Cumberland.

Best love - 

Jane

Please give my mother my love


Two days later, Alfreda’s frustration with the people around her not caring about the tense state of politics boiled over, so she wrote to her mother, Gladys Huntington, saying “As there is no one here interested + as I have very definite views, I have to tell them to you, at the risk of boring you.” In her letter, Alfreda shows that she pays a great deal of attention to the world around her, referencing past events and the far-reaching implications of current events. 

Dearest Mother,

If our present firm line can only prevent Hitler from attacking Poland this week, and next he might pause to take breath before trying again, as he did the first time over Czeckoslovakia[sic] the spring before last. In which ease the treaty with Russia may have been his first serious mistake - because it has frightened Japan, worried Italy, maybe hurry up our own pact with the Soviet, and perhaps even, carefully, hand [kel?], alienate his own people. ^[Without doing him any good, as it means nothing] But if he thinks, as he easily might, that by presenting England with a conquered Poland, he would once more avert war - I think he would be wrong, + we’d be at war by next week. What do you think?

The people here are taking comparatively little notice of the situation, though Auntie listens to the news, and Goodhart. Rendell (is he Mr. or Sir?) frightens us by saying that “Edward” (Lord Halifax with whom he’s been staying) thinks only a miracle can save us from war within the week, while the de Vesei’s are very worried.

Yesterday at the races we heard for the first time of the agreement, it wasn’t in our morning papers - we understood it to be far worse than it was, and [Pinkie], Martyn, + I sat thinking war would be declared today. I’ve never been so miserable. Now I think there is little hope. 

As there is no one here interested + as I have very definite views, I have to tell them to you, at the risk of boring you - 

How lovely to think that you’re back at last. Was it fun till the end? I do hope so - 

Very best love

Alfreda


In this letter to her father, written the same day as the above letter to her mother, Alfreda’s life continues on, despite her mounting anxieties. She references General Asquith, referring to General Arthur Asquith, son of former Prime Minister Herbert Henry Asquith and distinguished World War I veteran, who died the next day.[1] Alfreda was 17 or 18 at the time and keenly aware of the world around her.

Dearest Father  - 

The red ink is certainly not in honor of my winnings - as I have lost every single penny I’ve bet - which luckily was not very much, so I’ll have enough money to get to Cumberland!

Martyns dance was last night and great fun - His mother was the hostess, but as I had not got your letter, I didn’t give her your love - though I did speak to her. 

How terrible about General Asquith. Is he literally dying?

I have written a complete exposé of the political situation to my mother, because as no one here is interested I must tell someone. Do you think there’s any hope?

[…]

As there’s going to be a railway strike, and probably a war, how + when I’ll get home, I can’t think. But Cumberland should be nice, so it doesn’t matter.

[…]

With love from

Alfreda

One can imagine that Constant was much less cavalier about the potential for Alfreda’s being stranded from home for the foreseeable future than she was. It probably mattered quite a bit to her parents. 


Leo Myers discusses only the coming war in his letter to Gladys of August 27. He expresses concern for Gladys’ going to London, but the way he goes about it strikes an outside reader as amusing or odd: “I think you would find a bombing a very disagreeable experience…”

Aug. 27th

Dear Gladys, the news looks very black this morning. - I wish Constant would settle his affairs quickly, so that you don’t have to go to London. I think you would find a bombing a very disagreeable experience - especially the waiting - while they were evacuating the children. I shall have two refugees & two invalids in this little house, a [???], I suppose, I shall retire - for the next two years. My family is all settled at Erwarton with a fire dug-out. Goodbye to civilization & all that!

Yours,

Leo

A disagreeable experience is certainly one way to put it!


Viscountess Antoinette Heckscher Brett Esher was part of Gladys’ social circle, so her letter from September 28, 1939 gives us insight into the perspective of a host of the many evacuated children. Starting September 1, 1939, children were evacuated from London to the countryside out of fear of German bombing.[2] Despite hosting however many children in her home, Antoinette Heckscher’s class position somewhat insulated her from engaging with the realities of wartime and displacement. She still had household staff and leisure time, unlike many others whose lives would have been entirely consumed by childcare.
A Nursery School: Watlington Park Children in Wartime by Ethel Gabain, Lithograph, 1940. IWM ART LD 263.

A Nursery School: Watlington Park Children in Wartime by Ethel Gabain, Lithograph, 1940. IWM ART LD 263.

 This letter also provides us some insight into the quotidian concerns of the English gentry—how to deal with young, restless daughters. Although better than a son who could be drafted, parents of young adult daughters also wanted to keep them out of danger while allowing them a certain level of independence.

Sept. 28, 1939

Dearest Gladys - I was so glad to have your letter - I hadn’t heard of you for such ages, except through Dorothy. How awful it all is - and will be worse of course. One dreads so those lists of casualties…

Fortunately I am + have been very busy settling all these children into the house. With the innumerable problems that arise - but with the aid of my perfect + absolutely indispensable Irish cook + the house-carpenter we are getting it wonderfully straightened out and settled down + I am getting used to the noise - it’s only the smell in the dining room that I find hard to bear!

The isolation is going to be very depressing + I shouldn’t wonder if we took a little flat in London later on. But like everyone else one is waiting for the first air-raid…. Meanwhile I have found both solace + amusement in reading. What a good book the Prince Imperial is! - do congratulate Constant from me, it should surely do well - too good for a best-seller, but the Book Society recommendation ought to do a lot for it + the intelligent reading public will love it - as I did.

[…]

The only problem that really worries me at present - and must also worry you - is what can we do with our young daughters? The bottom of their little world has dropped out - they are bored, unhappy + désoeuvrées - and yet I don’t think we can let them, at 18, go off alone to join one of these Womens’ Armies - Do you? Dorothy suggested P’s learning to type + shorthand + then she might get some voluntary office job - Quite a good idea, but of course like most war work it entails living in London, and how can we tell yet about that? Then, I am [longing?] myself to do something to help with the war - but it is different for me as I know I am being of use here. But I do find an idle restless unhappy daughter in the house a problem! What do you + Constant think we can do? If only the young weren’t so terribly secretive! Of course they tell each other everything. Perhaps we were the same. 

[…]

All love, dear Gladdy

Antoinette

Photo from Gladys’ photo album, labelled “Evacuated children v Snowman at Parham”

Photo from Gladys’ photo album, labelled “Evacuated children v Snowman at Parham”

From Gladys Huntington’s photo album that started in 1932, we discovered that the Huntingtons also took in evacuated children. A photo from 1940 has a caption reading “Evacuated children - A picnic on first anniversary of their coming to us - Sept 2nd - The Flooded Wildbrooks.”


Two photos from Gladys’ photo album of four women wearing gas masks.

Two photos from Gladys’ photo album of four women wearing gas masks.

Alfreda still goes to the dance and the races, Constant’s business continues on uninterrupted, and Leo goes on commenting on the weather, all while facing down an impending war. To be fair, none of them could know it would become a second World War and none were of the age or gender to be drafted or asked to fight. But generally, life doesn’t stop when a country goes to war or the world changes irrevocably. Ordinary people went to work after the nuclear bombing of Hiroshima and the world hasn’t stopped for the almost 2 million people who’ve already died due to COVID-19 just in 2021 so far.