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This section states that the 1860–2 diary of Kentucky Unionist Johanna Louisa (Josie) Underwood provides a unique and intimate look at the emotional question of secession and the trauma visited on a family, community, and state torn asunder by civil war. It notes that Josie often wrote acerbic comments that painted with great clarity the frustrations, deprivations, and heartaches of a conflict pitting brother against brother and father against son. The section describes how Josie related the hardships suffered by civilians during occupation—first by the Confederate Army and then by the Union—and the risks taken by those who spoke out against either. It notes that Josie began her diary during the Christmas holidays of 1860 as she prepared to visit her sister and brother-in-law in Memphis.

This chapter examines the marketing, sale, and scientific use of stereoscopes from the 1890s to the 1920s. While stereoscopes may be largely unknown today, their early twentieth-century success provides a fascinating snapshot of the power of the media physicalist rhetoric. Despite the stereoscope's nonelectronic, old-technological status, U.S. companies worked hard to establish its high-tech, sophisticated nature. These companies claim that the power of stereoscopic technology came from its capacity to transmit not only images but feelings. When used appropriately, the stereoscope would stimulate sentiments of nationalism, whiteness, and middle-class cultural capital appropriate to the new technological age. The two largest stereoscope companies, Keystone Viewing Company and Underwood and Underwood, maintain that using a high-tech stereoscope could transform someone into a more civilized person by cultivating his or her emotions in a range of powerful ways.

In early 1908, San Francisco felt confident that the Hetch Hetchy Valley would soon hold a reservoir. Secretary of the Interior James Garfield favored the city, and he formally approved the city's application in May. The Garfield grant, however, necessitated congressional hearings. In the House of Representatives and the Senate, damaging testimony as to the value of national parks influenced the legislators. San Francisco lost its chance for congressional approval of the Garfield grant. Now Muir, William Colby, Harriet Monroe, J. Horace McFarland, Robert Underwood Johnson, and others took the offensive. They formed the Society for the Preservation of National Parks to give their cause a more national voice. They enlisted the help of hiking and mountaineering clubs, and the General Federation of Women's Clubs. The new organization put out circulars attacking San Francisco's plans and offering alternatives. San Francisco responded with an attack on Muir and the “sentimentalists”, which it labeled “short-haired women and long-haired men”. Equally significant, the Roosevelt Administration left office and with it went Garfield, and soon, Pinchot. Congress, somewhat befuddled by the Hetch Hetchy controversy, endorsed a study by the US Geological Survey.

From 1895 to 1907, James Henry Breasted produced a voluminous amount of research, much of it conducted in Europe, establishing himself as a rising star in Egyptology worldwide. He wrote numerous books that were published between 1905 and 1907, and, in 1901, received an invitation from Underwood and Underwood, an American stereograph company, to write the guide for a stereograph “home tour” of Egypt. Breasted accepted the Underwood proposal in July 1901, and the result was a travel book for Egypt entitled Egypt through the Stereoscope. He was also working on a “documentary sources” project while trying to complete zettel for the Egyptian dictionary or teaching at the University of Chicago. After spending almost a decade the project, the University of Chicago Press published Breasted's Ancient Records of Egypt: Historical Documents from the Earliest Times to the Persian Conquest. It was issued in four volumes between February and July 1906, plus a fifth volume of indexes published separately in 1907.

This chapter explores the communion of shadows through the optical marvel of the stereoscope. First developed in the decades before the invention of photography, stereographs began as simple drawings designed to explore binocular vision by simulating dimensional depth on a flat surface. With the invention of the daguerreotype and subsequent print photography, stereographs became immensely popular forms of nineteenth-century visual culture. The effect of dimension was accomplished by positioning two nearly exact photographs side by side and viewed through prismatic lenses fitted into a hood, a contraption known as a stereoscope. Like halftone tours and biblical photographs, stereographs of the Holy Land invited beholders to dismiss the photographic contemporary in their sights on a biblical imaginary. But through the visual sensation of the stereoscope, beholders imagined themselves transported into the biblical past in a way other photographic technologies had not enabled.

This chapter takes as its focus William Gifford's 1816, nine-volume edition of The Works of Ben Jonson, offering a historicized account that seeks to understand how the conditions of its making influenced not only its methods but its later reception and influence. The chapter argues that Gifford's edition presented its readers with a social Jonson; and that Gifford, having conceived of the edition in terms that ally themselves closely with, and were earlier formed by, a Jonsonian understanding of friendship, was himself the beneficiary of a network of later literary friends, who provided him with help in the making of, and material vitally with which to make, the edition. The chapter then traces the sources of the manuscripts and books on which Gifford drew, as well as his own long correspondence with Octavius Gilchrist, drawing from this previously unpublished material a new picture of his working practices from which is derived an account of why the edition mattered then, and matters now today. Taking as test cases Gifford's treatment of Jonson's biography (including the Conversations with Drummond), and his handling of The Underwood, Jonson's final, posthumously-published collection of poetry, the chapter explores the way in which Jonsonian models of friendship can be read against and within the edition's editorial practice. The later part of the chapter then explores the hostile treatment that Gifford's edition attracted on publication, surveying its early reviews as a way of setting up a long engagement with the most important of Gifford's critics: William Hazlitt. In Hazlitt's account of Jonson, the chapter argues, we see not only an explicitly hostile political response to Gifford's alignment of Jonson with a particular mode of Regency Tory politics, but a vivid imaginative engagement with Jonson's writings, chief among them his Roman tragedy, Sejanus. This material begins to set up the interests of the book's second part: allusion and imitation.

War and occupation by a large military group changed life for all residents of south central Kentucky. The pleasures of life ceased for many. Josie wrote that daily existence went from “bad to worse,” as “more soldiers are continually coming into town.” The Philistines “invaded” the Underwoods' farm and home and restricted those activities she and her family normally enjoyed. However, for some, the army offered welcome amenities. Soldiers held drills, sham battles, and colourful dress parades to which flocked denizens of all ages. Officers sponsored cotillions and socials, where they and young lasses enjoyed each others' attentions.

When the Civil War came to a close, federal authorities had to determine what to do with captured Confederate president Jefferson Davis. After weighing the options of a military trial or some other form of punishment, the Johnson Administration decided to try him for treason in a federal court in Virginia. The trial was fraught with difficulties and ultimately ended when President Johnson pardoned Davis on Christmas Day, 1868. Nevertheless, the trial had a significant impact on American treason law. In the process of prosecuting Davis, federal authorities ceased using archaic language in treason indictments, thus Americanizing treason law, which had its roots in early English law.

Josie began her diary in early December as she prepared to visit with her sister and brother-in-law in Memphis. The diary chronicled a slave wedding, parties, social calls, and romantic visits that enlivened the holidays, but more serious concerns quickly overshadowed these social festivities. Josie witnessed torchlight parades and became involved in heated political discussion while in Memphis, the hotbed of Tennessee's secession movement. The 20-year-old Josie voiced her parent's opposition to Lincoln and to secession despite her attempts to remain a soft-spoken southern belle. As one after another of the states of the Lower South seceded, the intensity and anger in these discussions increased.

Discusses how social and cultural constructions of motherhood impact women’s experiences in pregnancy loss, and how feminist critique has focused on interconnections of power, identity, and sexuality. Reexamines residual fears of tatari and how discourses about and practice of mizuko kuyō are debated by pro-choice Japanese women. Discussion of how abortion relates to the politics of motherhood in Japan and in the United States. Meredith Underwood provides insights about socially driven forms of women’s agency in patriarchal societies. Hashimoto Yayoi views the concept of mizuko not only as lost child or fetus but even more as the mother’s more fundamental potential. Ueno Chizuko looks at deeper forms of nurturing and bonding among women. The chapter challenges conventional interpretations.

Ratification of the Eighteenth Amendment proved surprisingly easy in most of the country, which forced state legislators, governors, and others to try to understand the constitutional obligations of states under the cryptic “concurrent enforcement” clause of the new amendment. With few exceptions, states in the South, West, and Midwest quickly instituted regimes of concurrent enforcement by which states additionally helped to enforce the Eighteenth Amendment, with William Jennings Bryan serving as a roving national ambassador for prohibition. The South’s reputation for states’ rights proved especially hollow, with Governor Albert Ritchie’s Maryland the only southern state to resist instituting state enforcement, much to the consternation of Alabama’s Oscar Underwood, the rare southern states’ rights anti-prohibitionist and who lamented his region’s hypocrisy and enthusiasm for national power. California prohibitionists, reeling from repeated referenda against statewide prohibition, began reformulating the issue to be not pro-or-anti prohibition but fidelity to the Constitution, modeling the prohibition legalism and constitutional obligation that later proved so effective in maintaining prohibition.

In 1911 Charles Ives wrote “The New River,” a song unique among his works for its outspoken environmentalist stance. Composed in direct response to the diversion of waters from Ives's beloved Housatonic River to feed New York City reservoirs and plans for constructing a dam, the song also captured widespread national outrage over the Hetch Hetchy Dam being built at the same time through Yosemite National Park. Combining transcendentalist understandings of nature with more contemporary arguments to save Hetch Hetchy published by Robert Underwood Johnson and John Muir, Ives's song sounds his belief “the fabric of life weaves itself whole.”

The formerly wet Warren Harding increasingly felt obligated to shore up prohibition enforcement on grounds of constitutional fidelity. However, his death elevated Calvin Coolidge, a libertarian-leaning states’ rights conservative who, like Harding, nonetheless believed the amendment made an exception to that rule, albeit one whose enforcement he sought to foist on the states or underlings whenever possible. The bitterly fought Democratic primary in the 1924 presidential election became infamous for going to 103 ballots, as anti-prohibition, libertarian leaning Democrats like Oscar Underwood sought to suppress the influence of the Ku Klux Klan. The southern prohibitionist and Anti-Saloon League and Klan-favored William McAdoo fought the anti-prohibitionist and aggressively states’ rights candidates Albert Ritchie and especially Al Smith to a standstill. Deadlocked Democrats thus nominated lawyer John Davis, whose views were quite similar to Coolidge and whose selection illustrates the bipartisan hold of both federalism and constitutional obligation: both were states’ rights politicians who nonetheless defended enforcement of the Eighteenth Amendment. Coolidge’s victory over the equally constitutionally conservative Davis brought with it a clear increase in prohibitionist members of Congress.

Barkley soon brought his family to join him in Washington, DC. He found a hero in Woodrow Wilson and supported the president’s progressive New Freedom. Barkley’s first House speech strongly supported the Underwood Tariff. The speech contained elements common to many of his talks over a lifetime; he poked fun at the opposition, and he included one of his famous stories. His only committee assignment was the exclusive Interstate and Foreign Commerce. Early meetings between Barkley and the president concerned patronage issues. Along with the tariff, the Federal Reserve System, and the Federal Trade Commission, which Barkley helped prepare, the passage of the essential features of New Freedom reinforced for congressman and president the importance of party. Meanwhile, through press releases, mailings, and personal correspondence, Barkley kept in close contact with his constituents.

Chapter 1, Seeing Like a Publicist, locates the origins of public relations alongside emerging environmental narratives at the beginning of the twentieth century. The United States Forest Service, a federal bureau established during Theodore Roosevelt’s presidency, represented a vision of nature as resource for development, at odds with the romantic spirit of wilderness preservationists such as John Muir. Chief Forester Gifford Pinchot developed sophisticated mechanisms and messages to promote his commitment to a distinctly American culture of nature, qualifying and transforming the character of environmental information to the news-reading public in the process. Pinchot developed foundational concepts and practices of public relations that would leave deep grooves in the American experience of environmentalism.

This chapter introduces the supervision and licensing of lay midwives implemented with the passage of the Sheppard-Towner Maternity and Infancy Protection Act in 1921. It details the ways in which the midwives adapted to the increasing local, state and federal public health mandates, and how they interacted with county health officers, nurses, and physicians. Dr. Felix J. Underwood of the Mississippi State Board of Health was an early pioneer of midwifery supervision and his development of midwife club meetings and the midwife manual are used in this chapter to illustrate the state and county initiatives to improve maternal health.

Efforts in the middle border’s slave states to maintain versions of neutrality as logical extensions of the region’s consensus tradition met with failure in wartime. Neutrality and personal neutralism were statements not only of sovereignty but also of dissent, designed to maintain the traditional balance of unionism and proslavery. “Hard-line” warfare ensued in both Missouri and Kentucky, by which the politics of slavery were infused into the contours of civilian-military interactions. Occupying federal and Confederate troops judged neutrality as disloyalty, with slaveholding as an essential measure, and civilians used neutralism to their best advantage to protect themselves and the peculiar institution on their states’ untenable middle grounds. As they reconsidered their relationship with the American nation, two proslavery political cultures emerged in these states—southerners of culture and political southerners—struggling to control their states’ futures while defining the wartime contours of dissent in contested loyal slave states.