5. PEN
The text of The Bondwoman’s Narrative is characterized by sequences of writing in which the ink becomes progressively lighter before abruptly becoming darker again. This dark-to-light progression is a feature of a “dip” pen, whereby less and less ink is deposited until the writer recharges the pen by dipping it once again into the inkwell.
Also, pen strokes in the narrative are sometimes much finer than others. Note that the writing at the top of page 259 (the four lines that end Chapter 16) is noticeably more heavily stroked than the heading and opening lines of Chapter 17. This indicates a sharper pen being used for the latter, and such variance—moving from a blunt to sharp nib—is a characteristic of the quill pen. The more hairline appearance of the latter results from the quill having been sharpened (a special quill-pen knife was used for the purpose) or from the pen having been put aside for a sharp one. (Inkstands of the period often had a series of “quill holes” around the inkwell into which quills could be stood ready for use. Boxes of machine-built quill pen nibs, for use on a holder, were also sold [Nickell 1990, 3–8].)
Stereomicroscopic examination confirmed that the narrative was indeed written with quill pens. There are no nib tracks (furrows caused by metal pens or by “dutched,” i.e. fire-hardened, quills) in the paper. Quill pens began to be supplanted by steel pens in the 1840s and 1850s, and—by the end of the Civil War (during which quills were used by the impoverished Confederates)—the quill was almost completely abandoned (Nickell 1996, 108).
The writing in the narrative is consistent with that produced by the standard goose quill rather than by the crow quill. (The latter was used for the minuscule script that was sometimes affected by Victorian ladies as an expression of femininity. See Nickell 1990, pp. 3–4.)
6. HANDWRITING
The handwriting of the manuscript is of a class succeeding that of the American round-hand system (ca. 1700–1840). That earlier penmanship style was characterized by uniformly hairline up-strokes and heavy (“shaded”) downstrokes, flourishes, and such now-archaic forms as the long s and superscript abbreviations (i.e. the use of raised letters in such contracted forms as “Wm” for “William”). The manuscript handwriting is rather of the transitional form called modified round-hand (ca. 1840–1865), lacking the features of the later “Spencerian” system (1865–1890) that had more angular connecting strokes and was relatively devoid of shading on the small letters.
Of course it is difficult to precisely date a handwriting from its style, especially since people tended to continue writing the way they had been taught, into their old age. Given that the writing materials indicate composition in the 1850s, the absence of archaic forms like the long s suggests to me that the writer was relatively young when the pages were penned.
The author’s handwriting may best be described as serviceable. It is neither an untutored hand nor an example of elegant penmanship, and it lacks the diminutive size sometimes affected by ladies (referred to earlier in the discussion of quills). It is not possible to determine on the basis of the script alone whether such a handwriting was produced by a man or woman, although there are indications (to be discussed later) that it was the latter. It is consistent with the writing of a woman.
The script was produced with relative slowness rather than swiftness, but it is a natural, genuine handwriting (unlike, say, the bogus script of the alleged Jack the Ripper Diary [Nickell 1996, 45–48].) The author apparently desired to make the writing legible. It is generally unadorned, although one interesting feature is an extra little stroke—a deliberate fillip (comparable to a comma)—that is found as a final stroke of lower-case s but only when it is at the end of a word. This feature does not seem to have precise date significance. I find examples in my reference collection dating from 1821 to 1878.
The punctuation is eccentric. Periods are absent, although semicolons are sometimes used. Hyphens used for word breaks typically appear not at the end of the line but at the beginning of the next (although occasionally—including three instances on page 18—there is a hyphen at both places). Most curiously, apostrophes and quotation marks appear not as they should, raised (at the top of the lettering), but rather at the baseline (like commas). These characteristics differ even from the conventions of the period (see Cahoon et al. 1977) and seem explicable only as a measure of unsophistication on the part of the writer. (One possibility is that the placement of quotation marks somehow derived from European romance-language [French, Italian, Spanish, etc.] guillemets, small angled marks used for quotations and “placed on the lower part of the type body” [Chicago Manual 1993].)
7. ERASURES AND CORRECTIONS
The author of the manuscript has utilized a wide variety of methods for correcting and revising the text. Kenneth Rendell (2001) is quite justified in having suggested “that the manuscript is a composing copy, and it is not a fair copy.”
Wipe erasures
Many changes were made in progress, quite often utilizing a common method of the quill-pen era: wipe erasures. This method (mentioned by Charles Dickens in The Pickwick Papers, 1837) involved the writer “smearing out wrong letters with his little finger, and putting in new ones which required going over very often to render them visible through the old blots.” This method is employed frequently in The Bondwoman’s Narrative, one instance being page 132, line 9, where “with” was wiped off—while the ink had remained wet on the page—and “in” was written over the spot. The process is facilitated in the manuscript by the “calendered” (smooth) surface of the paper. The direction of the wipe indicates that the author is using the little finger of the right hand and is thus almost certainly right-handed (as the script also indicates). Wipe erasures declined with the advent of the steel pen which dug into the paper and left furrowed nib tracks that filled with ink and were not so readily removed (Nickell 1991).
Crossouts and insertions
The writer also used the techniques of striking out words (utilizing a series of slashes or multiple long lines) and making insertions using a caret (inverted v) to indicate the exact placement of added words. Some of these corrections were made in the process of writing, others as later changes.
Knife erasures
Where the author wished to erase a small portion of text after the ink had thoroughly dried, the offending portion was scraped off with an ink-eraser knife. (See Nickell 1990, 64–66.) An example is found on page 41, line 17, when a word was scraped off and the word “salver” was written over. (If a special ink-eraser knife was unavailable, the writer might have used the available penknife for the erasure.) Note the rough appearance of the overwriting and the scrape marks (visible by transmitted light).
It is with the knife erasures that I found the only evidence of blotting in the manuscript. I searched in vain for any use of blotting paper, instead discovering a few instances of the use of writing sand. For example on page 67 is a blot of ink that has a speckled appearance. When one turns the leaf there is a corresponding blob. What happened is that the author penned a sentence that included the word “oblidged” (misspelled). Later deciding to correct this, the writer used a knife to scrape off the last half of the word (all but “obli”), then wrote “ged” to complete the word. However, the knife had removed the sizing, roughened the paper, and left thin places in it. As a consequence, the ink was drawn out of the quill by capillary attraction, making a heavy blob that soaked through to the other side. Quickly, the writer grabbed for her sand-box or sander (similar to a small confectionary shaker only with a recessed top) and dusted sand over the blob on each side of the leaf. In the writer’s subsequent brushing off of the particles—which has left a speckled appearance—a few still inkwet grains were carried down and to the right, leaving a little trail in the form of a smear with more speckles.
Writing sand was used on some other ink blobs that resulted from knife erasures. On page 225, line 17, there are tiny indentations in the letter “A” of “Accordingly” that I attribute to sand. At the left side
of that letter is embedded a single speck of clear crystalline material that suggests the sand was a quartz variety (not the presumably more expensive “black writing sand”—powdered biotite—that was often preferred; see Nickell 1990, 59–60).
Pasteovers
When more extensive revisions were necessary, involving a few lines, the writer used a slip of paper attached to the page to cover the old text. The new text was written on the slip before it was attached. (The paper used is, in most instances, recycled from rejected manuscript pages, utilizing a blank side but leaving old text on the underside. The recovered text of one such slip is given in Appendix.)
The slips have been cut with small scissors (possibly sewing scissors) and attached by affixing halves of moistened paste wafers. (A wafer was a disc of flour paste usually colored—like those in the manuscript—with vermilion.) To make the paste bond better to the paper, it was common to impress the paper over the wafer with a small seal-like device having a pattern like a waffle iron. Sometimes a writer improvised, for example using a knife to score the paper (Nickell 1990, 97).
In the narrative the writer appears to have used a thimble. (This would not be surprising because a thimble was sometimes employed, as was the top of a key, as an improvised seal for pressing into sealing wax [Nickell 1990, 91].) Unlike the typical squarish grid pattern, that of the manuscript shows rows of raised dots that are quite like those I produced experimentally using old thimbles. (The tiny hemispheres are convex, corresponding to the concave indentations of thimbles.) If this evidence is correct, it is a further indication (not proof of course) that the author was a woman.
In any event, the use of wafers is instructive. With the advent of adhesive envelopes in the 1850s, wafers began to disappear. The last example I find in my reference collection (without claiming this as definitive) is on a Confederate letter sheet dated 1863.
Revised folios
More substantive revisions were apparently made by replacing a folio. A clear example of this is found in a break between pp. 194 and 195. The last two inches of p. 194 have uncharacteristically been left blank, and the top of the next page (before the heading for the next chapter) has three lines crossed out. This indicates that the folio ending with p. 194 was replaced. (If folios were replaced in the progress of writing, rather than later, there would not be such a gap to betray the fact.)
Some single leaves have been used, which fact further indicates the discarding and revising of text. One such single leaf is numbered pp. 11–12, having the seam mark of the paper-machine belt; that mark being absent from the preceding and succeeding pages shows necessarily that a single leaf is present from the folio that had been so marked. Also (as mentioned earlier) pp. 127–128 represent a single leaf as indicated by the fact that the stationers’ embossment is different from that of the leaves before and after.
Simple arithmetic indicates there must be at least one more single leaf. After the first folio (the title page, followed in turn by a blank page, the preface, and another blank page), there are 302 pages (301 numbered pages plus a blank final page). The two single leaves already identified represent four pages, so 302 minus 4 equals 298, but that is not evenly divisible by four. However subtracting one more leaf (two pages) would give a number so divisible (296 [H11504] 4 = 74 folios), so there must be one additional single leaf; or there could be three, five, etc. The halving of a folio was probably done by slitting the fold with a paper knife (somewhat like the later letter opener only with a wider blade having a rounded tip—see Nickell 1990, pp. 106, 107), or again the pen knife could have been pressed into service.
8. BINDING
As will be clear from much of the foregoing, The Bondwoman’s Narrative was composed not in a blank book but on sheets of stationery. Because of this the manuscript, subsequently bound, was not sewn in interfolded gatherings. The manuscript appears to have existed in two distinct forms: one without covers and one with.
Pre-cover “binding”
The decidedly soiled and abraded condition of the first and last page of the original manuscript (i.e., ignoring the flyleaves) is evidence that the manuscript was not bound immediately upon completion.
I find no evidence of the manuscript having been tied in a bundle with string or ribbon (as might have been indicated by damaged edges or a narrow, less-soiled crisscross area where ribbon or string had been).
Instead, although one conservation expert saw no obvious evidence of prior binding (Bowen 2001), I found what I believe is subtle evidence of it. Two sets of pinholes are seen in the interior margins of the pages (next to the book’s “gutter”). These are within a few centimeters of the top and bottom and exist throughout the book (Figure 8.1). The pinholes penetrate the pasteovers whenever they intrude into the punched areas (e.g., on p. 222), indicating the holes were made after the narrative was effectively completed.
I considered but rejected the hypothesis that the pinholes were mis-punchings by the later bookbinder. The holes have occasionally been enlarged by tearing (e.g., the lower one on p. 97 and adjacent pages). This indicates that the holes had been threaded and the improvised volume subjected to some handling at that time.
Because the extraneous pinholes are located too far from the edge, the fastening would have obscured some of the text. They are also out of alignment and may represent two different attempts at an amateurish binding, probably by the author. (This was perhaps somewhat like Emily Dickinson did with groups of her poems, written on similarly folded sheets of stationery: “When the copying was completed she stacked the sheets one on top of another, stabbed holes through them at the edge, and secured the booklets with string.” Those poems are believed to date from about 1858 to early 1860 [Shurr 1983].)
In any event, on completing the manuscript—after replacing any folios and committing to final pagination—the author went through the work and numbered each page at the top with her quill pen and ink. Sometimes, when there was writing close to the top edge, she crowded in the page number as best she could (for example “135”).
Professional binding
As indicated, evidence shows that the present binding was done after some elapse of time. Kenneth Rendell (2001) had so suggested, and he stated: “The black cover of this type”—referring to the black-cloth-covered pasteboard binding—“is much more commonly seen on books and bound albums late in the nineteenth century. I don’t recall seeing one this size earlier than about 1880.”
Conservationist Craigen W. Bowen (2001) had noted that some “pages were slightly stuck together in the gutter as though adhesive had been applied, perhaps for reason of repair.” Indeed visual and ultraviolet examination showed traces of what appeared to be paste, and I obtained and tested a sample (using a cotton swab moistened with distilled water to remove a trace and applying iodine reagent to it). This yielded a positive indication of starch, consistent with a flour paste. I suspect it is the “wheat paste” of bookbinders and that it was used to help consolidate the pages, particularly considering the presence of single leaves. (I do not think the author did the pasting: If she had a paste-pot, one wonders why she did not use it for the pasteover slips rather than utilize wafers.)
The pasting was probably done before the sewing. It appears to me that small groups of stacked folios may have been stuck together in sort of quasi-gatherings and then each sewn, stitching through the fold of one of the folios. (If desired, an expert on books and binding could be consulted, although I think little would be added relevant to the major issues [the author’s identity and date of composition].)
The volume was almost certainly put in a book press, because the halved paste wafers, being somewhat thick, have left their half-moon shapes embossed into adjacent pages. I believe this would only occur to the extent seen with such pressing. (The effect proved a nuisance in studying the stationer’s embossed crests, since the wafer imprints sometimes coincided with and partially obliterated them.)
9. TEXTUAL MATTERS
In addition to the writing
materials, the text of The Bondwoman’s Narrative offers considerable information about the author and the date of composition.
Vocabulary and spelling
The narrative is not that of an unread person. Polysyllabic words—like magnanimity (p. 94), obsequious (p. 24), vicissitudes (p. 6), sagacity (p. 31), demoniacal (p. 127), unfathomable (p. 139), implacable (p. 195), ascertained (p. 230), and incipient (p. 289)—flow from the author’s pen.
To be sure, there are many misspellings: “incumber” for encumber, “excelent” for excellent (p. 7), “secresy” for secrecy (p. 56), “meloncholy” for melancholy (p. 59), “inseperable” for inseparable (p. 117), “hedious” for hideous (p. 210), “benumed” for benumbed (p. 285), and others, including “your” for you’re (p. 109).
But some apparent misspellings—e.g. “connexions” (p. 12) and “life-time” (p. 19)—were actually appropriate at the time of writing (the mid-nineteenth century) as indicated by the Oxford English Dictionary. And some—like “recognised” (p. 8) and “defence” (p. 94)—may be owing to the author’s reading of English literary works (frequently acknowledged by her epigraphs at the beginning of chapters).
The admixture of good vocabulary skills and occasional poor spelling would seem consistent with someone who had struggled to learn. In the course of the manuscript, the narrator progresses from illiterate slave girl to keeper of “a school for colored children”—a progression that, if fictionalized, nevertheless seems a credible personal achievement (as witness, for example, the accomplishments of Frederick Douglass [1845]).
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