ague

January 9, 1851

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Jan 9th Thursday

This morning after cleaning my room & doing

my usual mornings work, finished my collars & the

book Mr Whitwell brought.  Cut Susan a sack out of

her plaid cloak.  Prepared some mince pie meat ready

for baking & this evening have been writing in this book.

Had to take the foregoing from memory.  Mr Ames, ague in his face

and come home from the office very early.  Has been

troubled with it several days.  Unpleasant this afternoon

Oakes Ames still had his head cold and came home early from work, something almost unheard of.  He was always on the go. Evelina, meanwhile, worked in the cook room preparing mince meat, a lengthy process that calls for a lot of chopping of meat and suet, not to mention the “stoning” of raisins.

Sarah Josepha Hale, intrepid editor of Godey’s Lady’s Book, had nothing nice to say about mince meat pies. In her book, The Good Housekeeper (1841), she urged American housewives to serve mincemeat only on special occasions:

“The custom of eating mince pies at Christmas, like that of plumb puddings, was too firmly rooted for the ‘Pilgrim fathers’ to abolish; so it would be vain for me to attempt it.  At Thanksgiving, too, they are considered indispensable; but I may be allowed to hope that during the remainder of the year, this rich, expensive and exceedingly unhealthy diet will be used very sparingly by all who wish to enjoy sound sleep or pleasant dreams.”

Evelina was a regular reader of  Godey’s Lady’s Book, but she paid scant attention to Mrs. Hale’s admonishment against mince meat pies.  She served them often; they were a familiar presence at the Ames dinner table.  Considering  the large family to be fed, including three physically active sons between ages 17 and 21, and the ready availability of meat and suet from the oxen provided by her father-in-law, it’s small wonder that Evelina turned to a dish that was hearty and filling.   Mincemeat was a standard in many farming families.

January 3, 1851

Oakes Ames

Oakes Ames

Friday Jan 3

Got breakfast this morning about 1/2 past 6 Oclock

Worked about house most all day.  Did not sew but

a very little   Finished a letter to Pauline Dean for

Mr. Ames to mail at Boston    O A wrote a few lines and

sent her a pr of Cuff pins   Mr Ames has the ague in his

face.  Read untill half past nine in the papers.

Pauline writes that Mrs Brooks & little boy are there

Came with Mr Reed.  Mr Brooks is to come for them

“Mr. Ames” is Oakes Ames, of course: Evelina’s husband.  “O A” is their eldest son, Oakes Angier Ames.  With one notable exception that occurs much later in her diary, Evelina always referred to her husband using his surname.  That a woman of her age and upbringing would be so formal in talking about her husband shouldn’t surprise us; in 1851, anyone with a similar education and background would have done the same.  The 19th century was a formal century.  Titles and surnames were used in conversation, in correspondence and even in a diary that, presumably, would be read only by its author.

“Ague” is an old term for fever, usually defined as “chills and fever.”  So how Oakes Ames had a fever in his face is hard to imagine.  Perhaps this was a country expression for having a cold or sinus pain in one’s head.  Certainly, it was the time of year for colds and illness.  The ague affliction stayed with Oakes for several days during a spell of weather that his father, Old Oliver, described as “verry cold.”  Something like January 3, 2014!