The Impact of Photography in the 1840's

 

 

 

Daguerreotype, ca. 1847. My collection

 Sometime in the later 1840's a young man walked past a daguerreotype studio in his town or city. Like most men at that time he wore a suit and tie of the time. He also wore a fancy and colorful vest, typical of the time, that offered a contrast to his dark jacket. He stepped in, plunked down his $2 and waited his turn, looking at the examples of the daguerreotypist's work on display. When his turn came he sat down and the daguerreotypist told him to stay motionless and not blink until he said he could move. It might have seemed an eternity but he got through it. His serious expression revealed his uncertainty about what the picture would be like. He had seen his own reflection in a mirror many times, but once he turned away the reflection was gone. Now he had a permanent mirror reflection. 

The question that came to mind immediately for those who considered the implications of a photographic image was whether the daguerreotype could capture not only the physical appearance of a person but the inner, true person as well. Today, we know instinctively that a photograph can point toward the inner person without capturing them completely, but it was an open question initially. 

We don't know what he did with the picture. Perhaps he gave it to his parents before moving away to the big city to take on a job. Perhaps it was a gift for his fiance or young wife. We don't know. What we do know is that in those early years of photography in America he became one of countless Americans who partook of this hugely popular phenomenon. 

The daguerreotype was introduced in 1839 by Louis Daguerre in France, and quickly caught on in the United States. Daguerreotype studios began popping up in American cities in early 1840. Early daguerreotypes are easy to spot because of their sparse and sometimes stark character, as this image of a young man dating from 1840-1843. The brass mat is coarse and plain, without ornamentation. And most notably, he has the classic deer in the headlight look about him, as if he didn't know what to do. Which is exactly what we could expect from someone who was encountering for the first time a technology that he didn't understand.

Prior to Daguerre's invention a family with means could commission a portrait, perhaps a miniature of a loved one to remember them by if they were away from home, or had died. There would always be an element of the painter flattering the sitter by making adjustments to improve the face. This couldn't be done with a daguerreotype, though. It was warts and all or nothing at all.

Initially, the daguerreotype process was seen primarily as a way to preserve images of architecture, and artifacts of antiquity such as hieroglyphic inscriptions. Newspaper editorials waxed philosophic about it:

     The Daguerreotype is destined to high purposes. It is one of the most brilliant discoveries the mind of man has ever conceived and compassed. That light should be its own historian and draftsman, is indeed a sublime conception. Its perfection is unapproachable by human hand, and its truth raises it high above all language, painting or poetry. It is the firs universal language, addressing itself to all who possess vision, and in characters alike understood in the courts of civilization and the hut of the savage.

Charleston (SC) Courier
Friday, Jan 17, 1840 

By the author's description, would the definition of civilization be the ability to see oneself accurately, as in a mirror? There's a lot to unpack here.

The (New York) Evening Post, Jan 31, 1840

Initially, several lecturers toured parts of the United States to display the results of the seemingly miraculous process. The busiest of these was a Francois Gouraud, an student of Daguerre. Gouraud planned to tour the major cities on the East Coast in the fall and winter of 1839 lecturing on the daguerreotype process and displaying examples of the art that depicted landscape scenes and famous buildings. He appears to have only made it to New York and Boston, though, where his demonstrations were attended by overflowing crowds.

Daguerreotype ca. 1843-47. My collection

What captivated people as they encountered this form of imagery for the first time was the ability to capture an image in a short time. Originally it took several minutes for the image to be captured, which may explain the initial rhapsodizing about architectural views and landscapes, but gradually that was worked down to anywhere from five to twenty seconds. The shortened exposure time led to the early adaptation to portrait photography. Even with shorter exposure times blurry images could be a challenge. The image below from the early 1840's demonstrates this. Note the blurry image of the baby's face, indicating that he/she was wriggling. Nothing has changed there!

People at the time had no way to adequately describe this new technology:

It is a modern invention of art to catch the intangible image of the human countenance, and preserve it in the form of a perfect likeness. The subject pauses a moment as he passes, and when he looks again, he beholds the beautiful miniature.

The Religious Herald, Hartford, CT

Saturday, Mar 21, 1846

Grant Wood, "American Gothic," Art Institute of Chicago (Wikipedia)

The idea that having one's photograph taken must mean putting on a stern, expressionless face endured for some time. This standardized view of posing for a photograph lasted for a very long time, well past the era of the daguerreotype, which ended for all practical purposes around 1860 as more affordable options appeared. In effect, people didn't have the stern appearance because they had to because of long exposure time. That actually wasn't very true. It was more likely because having a photograph taken was not the casual thing it is now, but was a formal event, and a serious expression seemed more appropriate. It is generally accepted that Grant Wood modeled his painting, "American Gothic," on this general way of posing for a photograph, what an 1859 writer called the "cold, somber daguerreotype expression." (The Ladies' repository, Volume 19:8, Aug 1859) The expressions on the faces of the man and woman below exemplify this formal attitude. This couple caught my attention because of their resemblance to American Gothic, and their serious expressions give the impression that they were waiting to be put to death.

ca. 1847 daguerreotype, my collection

Facial expressions aside, Americans quickly realized the novelty of this new invention. The idea of having an actual image of oneself or of a friend or loved one was important. Daguerreotypes were expensive, though, the equivalent of at least $40, so they were not taken very often by many. 

An 1852 poem, "The Gold Hunter and the Daguerreotype," written in the sentimental style of the time, was about a prospector who had left his family back east to make his fortune prospecting for gold in California. He had been gone for a year and missed his family. As he sits wistfully, thinking of his wife and family, someone delivers a small package to him that contains a daguerreotype of his children, sent from home:

A stranger greets him a moment, and leaves

A package, for his hand 

Eager he breaks the seal, as he sees

It comes from his native land.

A small clasped case-he touches a spring

When, like the light of a star,

Two sweet faces look up into his,

Laughing out, "Here we are, Pa."

The Pacific, Oct 22, 1852  

Daguerreotype, ca. 1847, my collection

Memory soon became a prominent motivation for people to have their photograph made. The young man pictured above probably went on and had his picture taken a number of times in his lifetime, with new and easier, more affordable technologies available. A particular sub-genre of daguerreotypes, though, reveals an older generation of Americans. Daguerreotypes of elderly women are very common, pointing toward their importance to families. This image dates from around 1847. It's safe to guess that the woman it portrays was probably around seventy years old, perhaps older. If that were the case, she would have been born in the later years of the eighteenth century, perhaps around the time of the beginning of the American Revolution in 1776. Given the shorter average life span at the time, someone in her 70's would have lived a long life. It's easy to understand why a family would persuade their grandmother to have her photograph taken so they could remember her when she had died. This photograph is likely the only picture ever taken of this unidentified woman, and it depicts someone who grew up and matured in the previous century when such technology was unheard of. Rarer still are daguerreotypes taken of surviving veterans of the American Revolution.

A younger generation, such as the young man above, took advantage of the novelty and had their picture made. The daguerreotype of the young woman below dates from about 1843-47. It would appear that she is probably twenty years or so old at best. Was the picture made when she turned eighteen, or when she became engaged? If she was in her early twenties, that would put her birth date at the early 1820's. In all likelihood, barring illness or accident, she could have lived into the 1880’s  

Daguerreotype, ca. 1847. My collection

The older man to the left, on the other hand, was probably middle aged in this daguerreotype taken around 1847. He might have lived to the Civil War, perhaps.

Daguerreotype ca. 1843-7. My collection

With our world constantly bombarded with images today, it is difficult to imagine a world in which the technology of producing an exact visual image of a person was new and exciting. These images were valuable and held a place of pride in a home. They also provided a visible way to remember someone who was afar off, or no longer living. It is helpful to pause and consider how precious a single image could be.

One last sub-genre of daguerreotypes is images of the recently deceased. This may sound ghoulish to us today, but if an elderly parent died and the family had never had a daguerreotype made of them while they were living, photographing them in death was the last option available to have an image of the loved one.  This was common enough so that a daguerreotype studio in Hartford, Connecticut advertised in 1846 that they could take images of the deceased accurately. I have a post-mortem ambrotype of a man and a tintype of an infant, but not a post-mortem daguerreotype. Those are relatively rare and command a very high price.

 

Hartford Times, Oct 24, 1846

The possibilities for the new art of photography grew as the technology improved and became easier to do and more affordable. Daguerreotypes were complicated to make, involving several chemical processes that had to be done precisely. With the advent of ambrotypes and tintypes in the 1850's photographs came within reach of average people.

 

 

The Past Is a Package

Early daguerreotype, ca. 1845. My collection

In unsettled times it is always tempting to look back at the past and romanticize it. I am interested in a number of different periods in the past, but the one that resonates with me the most is the nineteenth century. Part of it is personal. My parents were close to a decade older than other parents at the time my brothers and I were born, which pushes my grandparents back into the nineteenth century. The oldest was my maternal grandfather, who was born in 1876. He was fifty when my mother was born. He was already old enough to become a grandfather in the 1920’s. My grandmother, his wife, was born in the late 1880’s. My father’s parents were both born in the early 1890’s. For me, the nineteenth century has never seemed like the distant past, but the recent past. I think this has helped me to not romanticize it.

For many, such as my children’s generation, the nineteenth century is wrapped in a fog. It is too far back to have any direct felt connection to people then. The factor that helped my family to feel an affinity for this period is that my father’s family has been in one place for centuries. We have a sense of place and longevity. The names and images of my ancestors several generations back are as familiar to me as those of my parents.

Romanticizing the past can often come with a lack of familiarity. Many can and will say that times were simpler then—that people had fewer pressures on them and had more time for everything. I’ve actually heard people say that many times. The opposite is the case. We actually have much more leisure time than people did a century and a half ago. We can travel much faster. We have household appliances that perform tasks for us that were once done by hand—laundry, cooking, etc.

We are a society in which we are in close contact with many in our lives. Not necessarily physical, but through social media. And, if a family emergency arises it is easy to be in contact with those who need to know, through a text or phone call.

In the nineteenth century travel was possible, for sure, but took much longer. The fastest method was by rail, but that didn't become common until the 1850's, and even then there were many places that were not directly connected with rail.  Travel in general was expensive, and people who were separated by distance did not see one another often. This made communication even more vital. Other than direct personal contact, immediate communication was not possible until the advent of the telegraph in the early 1840's.

In the nineteenth century the memory of those who were separated from one another by distance or death was kept alive as it is today, with personal possessions, letters, and photographs. Photographs were much less common earlier in the century, and were non-existent until the introduction of the daguerreotype in 1839. Even with that, daguerreotypes were expensive and those who could not afford them went without any likeness of their loved one with the possible exception of a silhouette.

Deathbed scene ca. 1860

 

We are also less likely to die or suffer from disease. The COVID pandemic brought us back to the reality that most of the world has experienced for most of human history. In the nineteenth century people routinely died of sepsis, tuberculosis, cancer, heart disease, and any one of the childhood diseases that we now take vaccines for—that is, until RFK Jr. succeeds in killing us off by dissing the efficacy of vaccines. That may not be long lived. 
The norm until the early twentieth century is that when a person fell ill with anything, there was an instinctual fear of impending death. The literature of the nineteenth century is replete with poetry and stories about how people health with death. How did they deal with death? Not much differently than we do. They grieved and tried to find meaning in a loved one’s death, much as we do now. The difference, if there is any, is that they were accustomed to sudden death in a way that we are not. Aside from accident or injury, or a sudden health crisis such as a stroke or cardiac arrest, we do not expect sudden death. They did. A cold could easily slide into pneumonia and carry away a loved one in a matter of days.

The religious environment was different, and that was where people often found meaning at a time of death. Much of the American population was evangelical Protestant, and a sizable part of the poetry and literature of this period reflects that worldview. The general theme was that those who were left behind could still feel the presence of their loved one who resided in the comforts of heaven, as in this example from circa 1860:

Our Little Child with Radiant Eyes

With seeking hearts we still grope on,
Where dropped our jewel in the dust;
The looking crowd have long since gone,
And still we seek with lonely trust:
O little child with radiant eyes!

In all our heartache we are drawn,
Unweeting, to your little grave;
There on your heavenly shores of dawn
Breaks gentler sorrow’s sobbing wave,
O little child with radiant eyes!

Dark underneath the brightening sod,
The sweetest life of all our years
Is crowded, in a gift to God.
Outside the gate we stand in tears;
O little child with radiant eyes!

Heart-empty as the acorn cup,
That only fills with wintry showers,
The breaking cloud but brimmeth up
With tears this pleading life of ours,—
O life child with radiant eyes!

We think of you, our angel kith,
Till life grows light with starry leaven;
We ne’er forget you, darling, with
The gold hair waving high in heaven!
O life child with radiant eyes!

Your white wings grown will conquer death!
You’re coming through our dreams e’en now,
With azure peep of heaven beneath
The arching glory of your brow,
O little child with radiant eyes!

We can not pierce the dark, but oft
You gaze on us with looks of balm;
A hint of heaven—a touch more soft
Than kisses—all the trouble is calm:
O little child with radiant eyes!

Think of us wearied in the strife,
And when we sit by sorrow’s streams,
Shake down upon our drooping life
The dew that brings immortal dreams:
O little child with radiant eyes!

From Lonnie, Our Little Lamb. Boston: American Tract Society, n.d., pp. 107-108

This may seem overly sentimental to our minds but it resonated with many.

Carte de visite, ca. 1864-7. My collection

I don't romanticize the past because any age is a package of good and ill. There are many interesting and exceptional aspects to that period, but also a lot of elements we would find difficult to accept, such as the prevalence of war, white supremacy, and out and out racism (sounds like today). Injustice abounded for many people. No epoch of human history is an unalloyed realm of virtue. Every age has its own failings. 

The aspects of life at that time mentioned above made life difficult. To romanticize any period is to skew how the people of that time understood themselves and their place in the world. They knew that the world they lived in was a mixed bag. It is true, nevertheless, that we can see things they couldn't. They couldn't have known the outcome of the Civil War when they were in the middle of it, for instance.

For me, the bottom line is that we shouldn't romanticize the past because it was someone else's present. We certainly don't romanticize our own time. Neither did they. The people who lived in the nineteenth century, with all of its problems and challenges, were no different than us in that they were just trying to get through the day. In that way they were just like us, with all the same hopes and fears.