RARE Handwritten Diaries Joshua T. Butts Friendship NY Union College Clarksville
Item History & Price
WELCOMETO SALLY’S DIARIES: Isold these two handwritten diaries 6 years ago and the woman whopurchased them has passed away and I was able to buy them back. Thediaries represent the years 1855 (and part of 1856) and 1861 and Imust say that the first diary is one of the most beautifully writtendiaries I’ve had the pleasure of reading. Our author is so poetic, deep and expressive when it comes to his journal entries. The seconddiary is when he is back on the farm with his family and... it’s moreof a daily diary that talks about his life on the farm. Theyoriginally belonged to Joshua Tilden Butts who was born on June 25th, 1837 in Friendship, Alleghany Co. New York. His mother was MandanaChurch and father Martin Butts. He had three brothers; WilliamOthello, Martin Nathaniel and Albert Church. He also had one sister;Frances Amelia. Joshua’s father married Lydia Church Butts(1803-1829) and as you can see she died when only 26 years old. Hethen married Mandana Church (1808-1889). Lydia and Mandana weresisters. Our author, Joshua, attended Union College in Clarksvillewhich is where he was when he started writing in the first diary.Joshua married Mary Frances Barber in 1865 and Joshua died when just32 years old in 1870 of Cancer. Here’s an interesting side note;Joshua’s grandfather was murdered on March 19th, 1824.Here’s how the story goes…..“Extractfrom "History of the Baptist Church in Friendship, New York "by Vivian Karen Bush:
We may here recite a few facts in regardto the church and its erection. It is built on the same lot and tothe west of the building hitherto used by the Baptist Society. Thislot was formerly the property of Othello Church, who was shot in coldblood by David D. Howe in 1823, and was long known as the Public Parkand burying ground. Through Orange Church , a son of Othello Church , and other heirs the lot passed into the possession of the BaptistSociety. On March 19, 1824 a white Allegany County farmer David D.Howe aka How was hanged for the December 30, 1823, murder of OthelloChurch, a leading citizen of the rural community calledFriendship.
Howe's trial took place on February 4th and 5th in aroom over the first Angelica jail that stood on the site later tobecome the setting for a Catholic Church.”Thereare 247handwritten pages between the two diaries. The first diary begins onJanuary 7th, 1855 and goes on for 140 pages and the last entry is on August 7th, 1856. The second diary has 107 handwritten pages and represents thesummer of 1861. I had every intention of reading all of the pages buthis writing is so intense in the first one (andthese journals are large measuring about 6” x 7 1/4”)thatI couldn’t possibly read them all and get them listed today. Thequotes below are just a portion of what you’ll find on the first 52pages and the rest ofthe entries arejust like what I’ve quoted. Very rare indeed. Here is just a sampleof his amazing writing……“J.T. Butts January 1st, 1855. Clarksville N.Y. All is vanity, all deception.”
“PREFACE:An old adage and a true one too says that vanity is the spice oflife. As my life has but very little “spice” for a few years thatare passed and has nothing to relieve the tiresome monotony of lifewhich is ever the result of seclusion from society, I have made aproposition to a friend (at least a young lady whom I regard as such)that she should keep a journal of her transactions of each day andwith a little or a good deal upon any subject which may have elicitedher attention during the day and to express her opinion upon any ofthe great questions which are agitated in the notion or in society, Ipropose to do the same thing according to the best of my ability andat the end of the year to exchange with her. I expect to derive alittle pleasure from the record of the daily occurrences and writingabout anything which may enter my mind but for more from the perusalof her journal. Ithink it will result with an advantage to each and give us greaterfacility in expressing our ideas. But the chief object is that we mayhave a record of the past and also have the privilege of perusingeach others thoughts and considering what is the effect of differentcircumstances upon our feelings. (Can’t think of nothing more towrite in my preface). J. T. Butts, Friendship, January 7th, 1855.” “January13th, It has been nearly a week since I have written in my journal. Theunseen hand of destiny is making his secret attempts to overthrowevery resolution which I form and making every trial that lies withinhis power to entice me from that post which I had resolved to pursueat the beginning of the present year. Perhaps it is not destiny, atleast any farther than it is connected with myself. Perhaps thedestiny lies in my own irresolution and want of that determination toexecute those desires which I have formed. Perhaps let supposition gowhere they please. It is a settled point that I have not written inmy journal every day as I had determined it to be. Let the course bewhat it may…..” “January13th(Cont.). We had toast and dancing and marching and lotsof fun while I (myownself and another self) had some rather ludicrousadventures in winding our way up the dark passage that leads from thechapel to the library room. My actions in society are very severelycriticized by some of the philanthropic old puritans of this townwhose benevolence is so great that it grieves them very much to seethe “risin generation” traveling the “broad road to ruin”.Two certain individuals in this town are as deep in the mud as twoothers are in the mire. So says the prophetic voice of one, who fromlong experience she has had in investigating the affairs of othersand prying into the secret motives that prompt them in every actionand who from her invisible power is penetrating the darkness thatenshrouds the future. She ought to have the power of judging a rightconcerning this. What a mystery it is to me that such a small town asFriendship should contain such a mighty genius and it’s a greatmystery that her fame has not been more extended. For it is amiserable boon for one of such surpassing genius to live in oblivionall the days of her life and what is worse when she parts with life(which she probably will do if she is not translated). Her name willbe lost to all save to her immediate decedents. O what a solemnthought is it to think that one of so great talent is obliged to actupon so much a truth that she must flourish for a while like thebright meteor that flourishes along the sky. Then when she shall haveto yield up her spirit to her maker to _____ _____ her from uponearth much cease. Would that I had an instrument as powerful one thatcould be as universally heard as thus which the Arch Angel Gabrielwill put to his lips at that appointed time and with its mightyblasts summon the earth and sea to give up its dead to appear beforethe holy tribunal Jehovah, would that I might have an instrument likethis, that I might proclaim to the world that before unheard oftalent of fathoming the thoughts and emotions of another mind. But asI have not this means, I must be content with what I can say for herupon this page by the means of my pen. This is a portion of my mindparticularly devoted to the welfare of such individuals and her nameis imprinted (at least the remembrance of it) indelibly upon my mind.O dear I hate to part with one so amiable but the page is out.” “January24th, What a contrast do these two pages present. One is white andunsullied by any scribbling representing my thoughts both weak andignoble, affording a field upon which a Byron might exercise themighty power of his genius or an Angelo portray beauties andperfections of any work of ____. Although it can not be immortalizedby the pen of a Byron or the pencil of an Angelo yet it might becomethe medium of communicating to the world…..Therefore I willscribble this and the succeeding pages with such ideas as shallchance to enter my “noodle”“March18th, Anyone in looking over my journal would naturally come to theconclusion that I have either slept away my time during the month ofFebruary or that I can not collect thoughts enough to write more thanonce a month at least if I have anything to write it take two orthree weeks study and a good deal consultation of Dr. Webster beforeI can commit them to paper. If any one should entertain such ideas aseither of the above they are onerous but I am willing to own thetruth concerning the month, it is a result of a want determination orto strip it of its euphemism down right laziness. Although I havedeviated from my original design of writing every day in my journalyet I do now intend here forth (after the close of this week atleast) to write every day in my journal recalling whatever incident Imay consider worthy of notice and whatever ideas that may besuggested to my mind during the day that are worthy of beingtransferred to these pages. The month of February that is past hasbeen an eventful one. It has been fraught with events of the greatestimportance to nation and individuals...” “April2nd, Three months of 1855 are now recorded upon the same page alongwith those numberless ages which have imperceptibly and with a silentpace glided into the realms of eternity. These three months will bean ever memorable space in the history of the world. Some months andeven years glad into that ever flowing river of a past without everleaving a single mark or making a single impression upon the mind ofman as it dashes on in its impetuous course to mark the spot wherethey mingled their waters with that old old ocean of time…..” “April24th, …...Everything around partakes of the fulsome effectswhich spring seems to demand except (Oh that word except) myself. Ihave never been so lonesome in all my life. I love the beauties ofnature as they are spread around my rural home but even in that Iwant some companion with whom I can converse and tell what I thinkconcerning those things I see…..I am awful lonesome now days. I dowant to see somebody. I want to have some fun once more in my life. Iam getting to be as sober and sedate as a priest. I really believethat I shall soon pine away for want of society…..I wish I couldsee some of my old friends at Friendship. I was there but recentlyand it only awakened those feelings which had begun to sink intoquiet repose and I have never been more lonesome then since thosedays. It has now almost reached the hour of midnight. The eartharound is all enveloped with darkness which now reigns supreme. Ihave been reading Bancroft’s history until late this evening andwriting this has somewhat encroached upon the hours of sleep. I mustnow bid good bye to all. Farewell.” “April29th, ...Romanticand beautiful is that sensation produced by the whistling frogs astheir tones of joy go forth upon the evening air. I know that thereare some who would not respond to that sentiment but as for myself, Imust confess, that I like to hear it above all other things in thesewarm beautiful evenings. How gloriously does it harmonize with thescenes around. It seems but to echo, if it was possible, the rays oflight “so mild and yet so ______” that surround all things. Theirrich and yet somber beams…….What scenes of older times do notthis lugubrious melodies call up before the delighted imagination.What memories of the distant past that had long slept in the tombs offorgetfulness does it present to the enraptured soul. I never canlisten to the frogs without having my mind wander back over thosescenes of childhood….Many a lonesome hour have I passed away whileabsorbed in the reveries produced by the whistling of the frogs…..”“April30th, …...As I look at the checkered scene of this month, Itrace distinctly the path along which I have wandered as though itwas but yesterday that they commenced. Within that time I haveexperienced every variety of feeling with which man was ever blessedor cursed. Often gloomy and sullen I have wished that I might shrinkinto myself there to forever dwell in an oblivious grave among themorbid passions of a decaying mind. At other times I have been ____like the airy cloud in it’s ethereal atmosphere over the mysteriousand unknown paths of my future…….” Thereis just way too much for me to quote anymore in this one volume andI’m just on page 52 and it’s written on up to page 140. I’vescanned several pages from both journals. As far as the condition, both covers are very worn and are pulling away a bit from thebinding. Binding looks good however in both and the pages also lookgood.
We may here recite a few facts in regardto the church and its erection. It is built on the same lot and tothe west of the building hitherto used by the Baptist Society. Thislot was formerly the property of Othello Church, who was shot in coldblood by David D. Howe in 1823, and was long known as the Public Parkand burying ground. Through Orange Church , a son of Othello Church , and other heirs the lot passed into the possession of the BaptistSociety. On March 19, 1824 a white Allegany County farmer David D.Howe aka How was hanged for the December 30, 1823, murder of OthelloChurch, a leading citizen of the rural community calledFriendship.
Howe's trial took place on February 4th and 5th in aroom over the first Angelica jail that stood on the site later tobecome the setting for a Catholic Church.”Thereare 247handwritten pages between the two diaries. The first diary begins onJanuary 7th, 1855 and goes on for 140 pages and the last entry is on August 7th, 1856. The second diary has 107 handwritten pages and represents thesummer of 1861. I had every intention of reading all of the pages buthis writing is so intense in the first one (andthese journals are large measuring about 6” x 7 1/4”)thatI couldn’t possibly read them all and get them listed today. Thequotes below are just a portion of what you’ll find on the first 52pages and the rest ofthe entries arejust like what I’ve quoted. Very rare indeed. Here is just a sampleof his amazing writing……“J.T. Butts January 1st, 1855. Clarksville N.Y. All is vanity, all deception.”
“PREFACE:An old adage and a true one too says that vanity is the spice oflife. As my life has but very little “spice” for a few years thatare passed and has nothing to relieve the tiresome monotony of lifewhich is ever the result of seclusion from society, I have made aproposition to a friend (at least a young lady whom I regard as such)that she should keep a journal of her transactions of each day andwith a little or a good deal upon any subject which may have elicitedher attention during the day and to express her opinion upon any ofthe great questions which are agitated in the notion or in society, Ipropose to do the same thing according to the best of my ability andat the end of the year to exchange with her. I expect to derive alittle pleasure from the record of the daily occurrences and writingabout anything which may enter my mind but for more from the perusalof her journal. Ithink it will result with an advantage to each and give us greaterfacility in expressing our ideas. But the chief object is that we mayhave a record of the past and also have the privilege of perusingeach others thoughts and considering what is the effect of differentcircumstances upon our feelings. (Can’t think of nothing more towrite in my preface). J. T. Butts, Friendship, January 7th, 1855.” “January13th, It has been nearly a week since I have written in my journal. Theunseen hand of destiny is making his secret attempts to overthrowevery resolution which I form and making every trial that lies withinhis power to entice me from that post which I had resolved to pursueat the beginning of the present year. Perhaps it is not destiny, atleast any farther than it is connected with myself. Perhaps thedestiny lies in my own irresolution and want of that determination toexecute those desires which I have formed. Perhaps let supposition gowhere they please. It is a settled point that I have not written inmy journal every day as I had determined it to be. Let the course bewhat it may…..” “January13th(Cont.). We had toast and dancing and marching and lotsof fun while I (myownself and another self) had some rather ludicrousadventures in winding our way up the dark passage that leads from thechapel to the library room. My actions in society are very severelycriticized by some of the philanthropic old puritans of this townwhose benevolence is so great that it grieves them very much to seethe “risin generation” traveling the “broad road to ruin”.Two certain individuals in this town are as deep in the mud as twoothers are in the mire. So says the prophetic voice of one, who fromlong experience she has had in investigating the affairs of othersand prying into the secret motives that prompt them in every actionand who from her invisible power is penetrating the darkness thatenshrouds the future. She ought to have the power of judging a rightconcerning this. What a mystery it is to me that such a small town asFriendship should contain such a mighty genius and it’s a greatmystery that her fame has not been more extended. For it is amiserable boon for one of such surpassing genius to live in oblivionall the days of her life and what is worse when she parts with life(which she probably will do if she is not translated). Her name willbe lost to all save to her immediate decedents. O what a solemnthought is it to think that one of so great talent is obliged to actupon so much a truth that she must flourish for a while like thebright meteor that flourishes along the sky. Then when she shall haveto yield up her spirit to her maker to _____ _____ her from uponearth much cease. Would that I had an instrument as powerful one thatcould be as universally heard as thus which the Arch Angel Gabrielwill put to his lips at that appointed time and with its mightyblasts summon the earth and sea to give up its dead to appear beforethe holy tribunal Jehovah, would that I might have an instrument likethis, that I might proclaim to the world that before unheard oftalent of fathoming the thoughts and emotions of another mind. But asI have not this means, I must be content with what I can say for herupon this page by the means of my pen. This is a portion of my mindparticularly devoted to the welfare of such individuals and her nameis imprinted (at least the remembrance of it) indelibly upon my mind.O dear I hate to part with one so amiable but the page is out.” “January24th, What a contrast do these two pages present. One is white andunsullied by any scribbling representing my thoughts both weak andignoble, affording a field upon which a Byron might exercise themighty power of his genius or an Angelo portray beauties andperfections of any work of ____. Although it can not be immortalizedby the pen of a Byron or the pencil of an Angelo yet it might becomethe medium of communicating to the world…..Therefore I willscribble this and the succeeding pages with such ideas as shallchance to enter my “noodle”“March18th, Anyone in looking over my journal would naturally come to theconclusion that I have either slept away my time during the month ofFebruary or that I can not collect thoughts enough to write more thanonce a month at least if I have anything to write it take two orthree weeks study and a good deal consultation of Dr. Webster beforeI can commit them to paper. If any one should entertain such ideas aseither of the above they are onerous but I am willing to own thetruth concerning the month, it is a result of a want determination orto strip it of its euphemism down right laziness. Although I havedeviated from my original design of writing every day in my journalyet I do now intend here forth (after the close of this week atleast) to write every day in my journal recalling whatever incident Imay consider worthy of notice and whatever ideas that may besuggested to my mind during the day that are worthy of beingtransferred to these pages. The month of February that is past hasbeen an eventful one. It has been fraught with events of the greatestimportance to nation and individuals...” “April2nd, Three months of 1855 are now recorded upon the same page alongwith those numberless ages which have imperceptibly and with a silentpace glided into the realms of eternity. These three months will bean ever memorable space in the history of the world. Some months andeven years glad into that ever flowing river of a past without everleaving a single mark or making a single impression upon the mind ofman as it dashes on in its impetuous course to mark the spot wherethey mingled their waters with that old old ocean of time…..” “April24th, …...Everything around partakes of the fulsome effectswhich spring seems to demand except (Oh that word except) myself. Ihave never been so lonesome in all my life. I love the beauties ofnature as they are spread around my rural home but even in that Iwant some companion with whom I can converse and tell what I thinkconcerning those things I see…..I am awful lonesome now days. I dowant to see somebody. I want to have some fun once more in my life. Iam getting to be as sober and sedate as a priest. I really believethat I shall soon pine away for want of society…..I wish I couldsee some of my old friends at Friendship. I was there but recentlyand it only awakened those feelings which had begun to sink intoquiet repose and I have never been more lonesome then since thosedays. It has now almost reached the hour of midnight. The eartharound is all enveloped with darkness which now reigns supreme. Ihave been reading Bancroft’s history until late this evening andwriting this has somewhat encroached upon the hours of sleep. I mustnow bid good bye to all. Farewell.” “April29th, ...Romanticand beautiful is that sensation produced by the whistling frogs astheir tones of joy go forth upon the evening air. I know that thereare some who would not respond to that sentiment but as for myself, Imust confess, that I like to hear it above all other things in thesewarm beautiful evenings. How gloriously does it harmonize with thescenes around. It seems but to echo, if it was possible, the rays oflight “so mild and yet so ______” that surround all things. Theirrich and yet somber beams…….What scenes of older times do notthis lugubrious melodies call up before the delighted imagination.What memories of the distant past that had long slept in the tombs offorgetfulness does it present to the enraptured soul. I never canlisten to the frogs without having my mind wander back over thosescenes of childhood….Many a lonesome hour have I passed away whileabsorbed in the reveries produced by the whistling of the frogs…..”“April30th, …...As I look at the checkered scene of this month, Itrace distinctly the path along which I have wandered as though itwas but yesterday that they commenced. Within that time I haveexperienced every variety of feeling with which man was ever blessedor cursed. Often gloomy and sullen I have wished that I might shrinkinto myself there to forever dwell in an oblivious grave among themorbid passions of a decaying mind. At other times I have been ____like the airy cloud in it’s ethereal atmosphere over the mysteriousand unknown paths of my future…….” Thereis just way too much for me to quote anymore in this one volume andI’m just on page 52 and it’s written on up to page 140. I’vescanned several pages from both journals. As far as the condition, both covers are very worn and are pulling away a bit from thebinding. Binding looks good however in both and the pages also lookgood.
