1908 Handwritten Travel Diary Prominent Maxcy Family Gardiner ME White Star Line

Description

This is an amazing diary that is such an interesting read! This incredibly detailed handwritten diary documented a trip to Italy taken in 1908 by prominent Maine business man Josiah Smith MAXCY, his daughter Helen and his niece Barbara. The diary was written by Helen, is 6” by 8” and has 105 handwritten pages of which 98 are actual daily diary entries and the remaining pages are full of autographs from their fellow passengers.
There are entries written while at sea, and the diary is full of very detailed descriptions of some of the characters they met on their trip, including a private audience with the Pope (which didn’t go as planned!) and meeting two young women while in Switzerland whose last name was Frankenstein!
Josiah Smith Maxcy (1854–1936) was a very prominent figure in Maine. He was part of the Maine Legislature, a Representative during 1897-1899, and he was also the head of several banks. He married Grace Allen, and had three children: Helen Bartlett, Robert Farrington, and Josiah Richard. Helen was born in in 1884, and ended up marrying a famous landscape painter, Roy Elliott Bates in 1919 and they had one son Roy Elliott Maxcy Bates. Helen died in1983. Barbara was the daughter of Josiah’s brother Charles Herbert Maxcy, and was born in 1884.
Apart from the diary, this lot also includes:
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An original White Star Line passenger list for the trip over sailing on the S.S. Canopic - a rare find on its own
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A handwritten note outlining the itinerary
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A hand drawn Valentines card in the shape of a heart addressed to “Miss Maxcy”, with a transcription on the back saying, “When we all get to heaven and have our halos bright. The girl who’ll have the biggest is the one who writes and writes.”
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A card detailing the exhibitions at the Florentina Ars in Florence
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A copy of a black and white photograph showing a man playing shuffleboard with an inscription that reads, “Steamer Republic – Naples to NY – May 1908”
There are so many interesting passages I have only included a few here:
…Today we sailed up to Gibraltar past the breakwater behind which we saw men-of-war in gray paint. The great rock was wonderful, more wonderful than I had dreamed. Behind were mountains and hills in a beautiful soft light. We landed in a small steam boat and started off after we had said goodbye to the nineteen people who stayed there. Somehow the strongest impression I have now is of the cosmopolitan town and the strength of the fortress. There were so many types as we drove through the narrow streets, moors, stately in their white garments, Arabs in the Fez, English girls riding most correctly and above all Tommy Atkins and his superior officers…..
…Washington’s birthday and a different kind from any that I’ve seen before. Mrs. Buttrick and Sibyl came down to the White Star Line dock to see us off and father and Rob got on the same train in the elevated. Margaret Danforth met us at the Canopic and Ethel Haley came with her Uncle, Mr. Johnson and brought us some candy. George and Mary Hall were there too, and Gertrude Cooper and Mildred Wiggins arrived later. There was a hustle and bustle of people saying goodbye to their friends, so we didn’t have much time to talk to anyone. We left the dock at two o’clock and watched the waving mass of people for a moment then wrote our letters to go back on the pilot boat. Father had engaged our chairs ahead, so we just had to speak for our baths and be seated at table. We unpacked early too and found plenty of room for our staterooms are luxurious….(she goes on to talk about all the presents and cards they received and a “shocking present for father.”)...
…Last night Barbara confessed a dreadful thing to me. While I was innocently playing whist she was sitting on the deck chatting gaily with a Diamond of the First Water. In other words, the Consular Jewel who was put in our stateroom at first by mistake. We met him last evening and father told him about our hearing his typewriter, his whistle and his damned lie….” (They come to the island of St. Michael's in the Azores. A boat was brought along side and they went on over to the island.) “….We came up to a great wharf thronged with people, old beggars with wrinkled faces, drivers, guides, women with kerchiefs on their heads and even some with the queer black-hooded-capes, the middle class costume. Mrs. Webber, Mrs. Wyman, Barbara and I went in one carriage to see the gardens. We drove along little narrow paved streets past houses with balconies where women smiled and bowed to us and cunning little children and some horrid little ones ran after us calling “Money, money!” Wouldn’t give any of course, for it would have meant a swarm….”
…Tonight we had a dance on the deck which was prettily decorated with flags and red and white lights. The Virginia Reel was one great roughhouse and fun. Mr. Bennett whom I’ve never met, reeled so hard I put my foot through my petticoat and tore a long strip. I was next to the head and in despair for there were no scissors nor any way to tear it off so I dashed madly down a corridor opposite, leaving a bewildered partner behind me. There was just one door ajar so I popped in and found myself in some unknown man’s stateroom, whipped off my petticoat in fear and trembling, tucked it under my steamer chair and got back before my turn to dance. But when it was over and I went in search of my skirt, it had vanished. I saw the deck steward and the following dialogue took place. I, “Have you been picking up the deck?” He, “Yes, Miss.” I, “Did you find anything by this chair?” “Yes Miss, it’s outside.” “Can you get it for me please?” “Yes Miss.” Then irrepressibly, “Was it a skirt?” I answered, “Yes” with dignity and meekness and suppressed laughter, so he extracted if from his rugs.”
…The last day of Lent and the steerage celebrates with mask and carnival. The costumes are marvelous, a chickens face made of orange peel and white paper, much being down with women’s clothing. They jest on rather ghastly things as far as we could judge; a mock operation and funeral. A murder and arrest. The parts were well taken from the man who was the girl about whom the quarrel started to the gendarme. Meanwhile a counter attraction was started by the fake band on the hurricane deck, whose leader wore a wonderful paper suit today. It was as bad as a two ring circus. Tonight we reached Algiers and looked out across the bay to wonderful glittering lights. We just couldn’t stay on board so we went down into the midst of chattering Arabs in small boats and were rowed ashore. We found one Gaston Spalout (?) a youngster, clever and interesting, who spoke six languages and took us through narrow streets to a Moorish cafe where we saw moors drinking coffee and the kitchen behind. Then we paddled through the rain to the market place where there was a masked ball. Harlequin, Pierrot, and Pierrette, Columbine and all the rest were there and one girl in scarlet like an imp who recalled to me the poor girl who loved Francois Villon and died for love of him to save his life. This one though had nothing of poetry or loveliness. We watched them whirling madly around the covered market place and Barbara and I danced together in one corner to say we had danced on African soil. Some costumes were lovely and others tawdry. Many men were dressed as girls and it was certainly peculiar to see a fair haired pink gowned creature with a cigarette between lips with just a suspicion of a mustache on the upper one. We tore ourselves away finally after one woman with a cunning seven year’s child, her face all powdered, poor youngster, had chatted with us awhile. My poor French was worked overtime while we chatted. She brought up a stalker awful man and introduced him but I decided not to dance, thank you. The woman looked at me and said, “I was in Paris once, for six months.” “Did you like it?” I asked. The tears came into her eyes as she nodded. Poor thing.”
…Well, we’ve come back now but we’re carried off picture upon picture in our minds of dirty beautiful fascinating Algiers. The sunset is red gold tonight and we sailed away from the city past the snowcapped mountains beyond and left the Sahara and Africa behind.”
…It was lovely driving along, though we were some hours late from the delay, when all of a sudden three carriages pursued us frantically separated us from each other and began to make trouble. We couldn’t speak a word of Italian, but Arthur told us afterwards that they demanded money because he spoke to them first about going and then engaged other. The poor youngster stood up to them like a little bantam rooster, called in an official to aid him but finally paid 20 francs. It did seem wicked but if we had them arrested, he would have been arrested too as a witness and then we’d have been alone.
…..We went into three other church’s and once more into the Pantheon which was wonderful with the blue sky above it. We saw Mrs. Garcia there. Then I hustled home to dress for our private audience with the Pope. We borrowed veils from the landlady. I wore little Miss Allen's which she had worn at her audience. We drove along the streets to the bronze doors and waited for the President of the American College to appear. We were early and waited, but no Father Kennedy. Father got nervous and interrogated the Swiss guards through me. They said "Wait" and we waited. Then father tried another guard who said, "You mustn't go up until he comes. Wait!" and we waited. Then father got angry and asked another man who said, "Everyone has to wait in Italy, Germans, English and Americans. Wait." and we waited. Then father got desperate and went up the stairs. Guard or no guard, he was going to find that Pope! The Swiss guards tried to chat with us in a sympathetic way to Barbara's honor then father came back rushing, "They're waiting for us" he cried. "Audience nearly over! Why didn't he send for us? I'm so cussed mad!" Poor man! That Kennedy creature had neglected or forgotten to send for us and the people were waiting while he chatted with the Pope. We went up flight after flight where poor father had just been and where the magic name of Kennedy had gotten him past every flunky. They, gorgeous creatures, seized our wraps and passed us on to a room where two women, a man, and they young priest with the angelic face, from the Canopic, who was the vice President of the American College were waiting. We were then rushed into the private library of the Pope. I peeped through the door and saw him sitting at his desk, but he rose as we entered the room and stood there in his white robes and cap and red slippers just like the pictures....
…Today to our sorrow we left Florence and we realized how much we've grown to love it. Father was in his "jauntiest" moods as we left and tipped all around on the way. There was a nice French speaking Italian from Bologna who chatted gaily with father through the usual channel and who invited us one and all to visit him. "My house is small, but my heart is large" he said. We had half an hour, so Barbara and I decided to "see" Bologna. We hustled out past the gate man who tore off our tickets to my fear and rushed up to some gardens behind a flight of marble steps. The streets were all arcades, so one could be under cover all day unless one crossed the street. We rushed back again and had to try the gates before they let you through and had a most dreadful time finding our train which had been shifted and father was cruelly hiding to frighten us.
…This lovely dreamy place we had to leave but the leaving was perfect as the entrance in the moonlight, for we went away as softly as we came soon after sunrise.......We had a perfect sail up past those great snowcapped mountains to Belligo. We piled off at Cande (?) with our heavy bags, for we couldn't find a porter and waited on the wharf while father and Mr. Frazier went to look up a hotel. They came running back in a moment or two to say there was nothing to be had so we hustled, or rather staggered on the boat again and crossed to Bellagio. I'm glad we did for its the prettiest place yet, on a point jetting into the lake with great snow capped mountains all around. We went to the dearest little hotel, the Florence but the Frazier's couldn't get in and went to another…
…This morning we clung to the garden and wrote a while stack of postcards. In the afternoon we tore ourselves away most reluctantly and took the boat for Montreux. It's a lovely sail on the lake, though very different from Lucerne. I think I get nearer to the smaller one. At Montreux we found the Frankenstein’s and took a walk with Katherine and Sally. Then to dinner…
…The day we sailed. We got off all right, was down at the dock when a boy from the hotel came running with a little case we'd left behind. The chambermaid must have gone straight up to find it. After all we've heard about dishonest Italians, it's refreshing to find such honesty. We sailed in sort of a rainy mist after getting some letters from the Fanning’s, Chappie and Katherine....
…Father, Barbara and I changed places tonight so as to give her the seat next the door and father a point of advantage. Well, I looked over and saw two very pleasant looking ladies, one with a very sweet face and one who reminds me of Mrs. McMasters. She says killing funny things in the same way. And besides Barbara was Mr. Gray who couldn't get at the table with his friends after all. A man came in and sat beside me or rather beside pseudo acquaintances of his. He's tall, dark and rather good looking with a nice manner of his own. His friends, no acquaintances, are a Mr. Wilson and his daughter. I'm sure it's daughter and not wife. She is tall and very attractive with lovely curly red hair and green eyes. I fancy she's vivacious......